As Elder Mevaz finished the final hymn, silence settled like mist.
Then, with a subtle movement, he pressed a hidden stone on the floor of the altar. A section of the stone shifted, revealing a narrow doorway beneath the altar itself. A cool breath of air rose from within.
Mevaz turned to the five children lined before him and beckoned the first child forward. She hesitated, then stepped toward the doorway.
"What you see and hear inside," Mevaz said solemnly, "is for your eyes and ears alone. Speak of it to no one. Not even to those dearests to you."
The child nodded, then walked through the dark doorway.
And the door, it closed behind her with a deep yet hushed sound.
Several minutes passed.
Then, a deep, resonant voice not Elder Mevaz's, but something far older echoed through the ceremonial grounds:
"The child shall walk the path of Light. Destiny: Oracle."
Gasps spread through the gathered crowd.
Moments later, the child appeared below the altar her eyes wide in awe, her face glowing with wonder. Her family rushed to her, embracing her, reverent and pride in their eyes.
Elder Mevaz nodded, pressing the stone again.
The door opened once again.
The second child stepped forward. As before, the seer offered the same instruction, and the child vanished behind the stone.
Minutes passed.
"Path of Fire and Metal. Destiny: Forger."
The second child emerged, equally stunned, and was warmly received by his family.
Then came the third.
"Path of Shadow. Destiny: Assassin."
A whisper rippled through the clan, such a path was rare and feared.
The fourth entered next.
"Path of Wind. Destiny: Messenger."
And finally… it was Azaryel's turn.
He stepped forward slowly, small hands clenched to steady himself. His family watched from below Drayelion with quiet intensity, Elarinya holding her breath. His elder siblings in anticipation
The altar door opened.
Mevaz gave him a silent nod.
Azaryel walked into the darkness.
The door closed behind him.
At first, it was pitch black. Azaryel couldn't see, hear, or even feel his own footsteps.
Then suddenly everything changed.
Before him stretched the vast canvas of the cosmos: stars twinkling in golden colour, comets dancing past nebulae, planets glowing softly in the void. He stared, enchanted, as the beauty of space unfolded around him.
Then, from the void, a staircase spiraled upward made of shimmering light stone.
Azaryel stepped forward.
The stairs were cool beneath his feet, yet it was like they where welcoming him. No pressure pushed him, no force guided him—only instinct.
Step by step, he climbed.
The higher he went, the more peaceful the stars around him seemed.
At the summit, a glowing white orb pulsed like a heartbeat, calm and steady.
Guided by instinct, Azaryel reached out.
The moment his fingers touched the orb, his body lifted, floating weightlessly upward.
Then came the voice.
"You are to become the balance of this world. Your actions will be judged."
"When you act with bias, punishment shall follow. When your choices are guided without any favors or fear, you will be rewarded."
"Fall. Learn. Correct. Rise again. This is the path you will walk."
"You will acquire your system in three days. The process will be painful and it will be unlike anything the others have faced or you yourself have faced. It will test the limits of your will."
"Prepare yourself. On the dawn of the third day, you must enter the Caves of Serendipity. Your guide will be waiting there."
Then, in the ceremonial grounds, the ancient voice reverberated for all to hear:
"The Seventh Golden Child has been born."
"Path: Not to be revealed. Destiny: Cosmic Celestial."
But then whisper sounded within the soul of Grand chair-Aelthira:
"At dawn on the third day, guide the child to the Caves of Serendipity."
She blinked, stunned. Her hands trembled slightly where they rested on the arms of her chair.
Below, the gathered families gasped.
Shock turned to wonder. Wonder became reverence. Reverence bloomed into pride.
A Golden Child—in their generation.
It was rare.
It was sacred.
It was said that the birth of a Golden Child would bless not just their family, but all who walked alongside them. Recorded in the annals of clan history, their presence was a symbol of transformation—a cosmic tide ready to shift the world.
And now, that tide had returned.
Azaryel Astarlyn—the Seventh Golden Child