The hall was alive long before the crystal lit. Voices echoed off the high beams, servants darted back and forth, and the air held that sharp mix of excitement and nerves. Children lined up near the dais, their families standing close enough to whisper instructions but not to interfere.
Aric stood among them, hands clasped behind his back. He kept his face still, the way Captain Bran had taught him, but his stomach was restless. This wasn't just about him — half the valley's upper households had brought their heirs. Today was about futures.
The priest, robed in pale silver, lifted his hands for silence."The crystal will recognize those it deems ready. Step forth when called."
The first name rang out. A tall boy from House Carrel strode forward, barely able to contain his grin. He pressed his palms to the crystal. Light flared — bright and steady."Warrior class," the priest announced. Carrel's father clapped his son's shoulder, chest puffed with pride.
One after another, children stepped up. A girl from the Ardyn family received the blessing of a Healer, her mother openly weeping with relief. A stocky boy touched the crystal and it blazed red-gold: Fire Mage. Each success drew murmurs, applause, even a few envious stares.
Aric's name was last. Everyone knew why. The Frosts weren't nobles yet, but they were close. This was meant to seal it. Their heir-to-be awakening strong would make the Frosts impossible to ignore.
He walked forward, every step heavy with the weight of expectation. Selisse caught his eye from the crowd, giving the smallest of nods. He placed his hands on the crystal.
It was cool. Silent. Waiting. He pushed, willed it, prayed for anything. A flicker—faint, blue—and then nothing. The crystal dimmed.
The silence that followed was louder than any cheer before it.
The priest cleared his throat. "Try again, boy."
Aric obeyed. Nothing. The crystal remained dead stone under his palms.
Laughter broke first from a corner, half-covered as a cough. Then whispers spilled, careless and cruel. "No class?" "Impossible." "The Frost heir—without a spark?"
Aric pulled his hands back, heat rushing to his face. He wanted to vanish, to break the stone in two, to prove them wrong. But there was nothing to prove.
Cedric Frost rose to his feet, face carved in iron. "The ceremony is concluded. Tonight, all are welcome at our table."
But the words landed flat. Families exchanged looks. Some left almost immediately, their bows stiff. Others stayed only long enough to maintain the thinnest thread of courtesy. Smiles now carried pity or scorn.
The Veylins stayed. Barely. Selisse lingered near the doorway as the hall emptied, but Aric turned and walked out before she could reach him. His room door shut with a dull thud not long after.
The banquet that night was a muted thing. What should have been laughter and toasts felt heavy instead. Cedric and Elara moved from group to group, holding the line of dignity while Steward Maren whispered reminders of courtesy in their ears. Some families made small talk; others excused themselves early. The Frosts' moment had slipped away, and everyone smelled it.
Behind closed doors, Cedric met with the Veylins. Their voices carried deep into the night. What had seemed a partnership now sat on unsteady ground. Deymar's tone was sharp, Lady Ilyra's clipped. Only Selisse's voice was soft, though even she had little say in the matter.
Aric did not attend the banquet. He sat in the dark, staring at his empty hands. He replayed every sneer, every laugh, every whisper. Shame hollowed him. For hours he sat, unmoving. Until, at last, a faint line of text traced itself in the air before him.
[System Initialization: …]
His eyes widened. His breath caught—
Dawn came gray and cold. The Veylin carriage rattled out of the Frost estate earlier than courtesy demanded. Cedric stood to see them off, words polite, his expression unreadable. Deymar's bow was short; Lady Ilyra's smile did not reach her eyes.
Selisse leaned from the carriage window, searching for Aric, but he never appeared.
The Frost estate was quiet again. Too quiet.