CLANG. CLANG. CLANG.
The bell on Awakening Day didn't just ring; it resonated with a grim finality. In the dormitory, the usual morning chaos was replaced by a brittle, prayerful silence. Boys moved like ghosts, their faces pale with a fear that mirrored the knot of cold dread in Kaelen's own stomach. Today was the day that would define every day that came after.
He dressed mechanically, his fingers fumbling with the simple tie on his grey tunic. His reflection in the washroom's warped metal mirror was not encouraging. The lack of sleep had painted darker shadows beneath his dark eyes, making his already sharp features look gaunt. His unruly black hair seemed to defy any attempt at order.
A presence appeared in the doorway. It was Lila, one of the older girls from the sister orphanage. She had a quiet, observant nature and hair the color of dark honey that she kept tied back in a practical braid. Her usual calm expression was tightened with shared anxiety.
"Nervous, Kaelen?" she asked, her voice softer than usual.
"A bit," he admitted, his own voice rough. It was a vast understatement.
Behind her stood Anya, a tall, broad-shouldered girl with strong features and capable hands that were often calloused from work. Her reddish hair was cropped short, and her gaze was direct and assessing. "Just breathe," she said, her tone blunt but not unkind. "It'll be over quickly, one way or another."
A third girl, Maya, peeked around them. She was slight and slender with a delicate, thoughtful face and large, watchful eyes. Her pale blonde hair seemed almost silver in the dim light. She offered a small, sympathetic smile but said nothing. The worry in her eyes was enough.
Their brief, quiet solidarity was a small anchor in his rising panic. They were all in this churning sea together, waiting to see who would float and who would sink.
The march to the city square was a somber procession. The vibrant life of the city—the merchants calling, the hum of elemental energy powering streetlamps and fountains—felt distant, like a play he was watching from the back row. His world had narrowed to the pounding of his own heart.
The square was packed. Families clustered together, offering whispered encouragement. Priests from the main cathedral stood in a solemn row, their fine robes a stark contrast to the common clothes of the crowd. The air crackled with a potent mix of hope and terror.
The ceremony began. One by one, names were called. Futures were forged in moments.
"Jax of the Western District!"
Jax, a burly boy from his dormitory, strode forward confidently. He knelt, and after a moment, a robust, controlled flame erupted around his clenched fist. The crowd erupted in cheers. A Fire Sephirah. A future guardsman.
"Finn of the Lower District!"
The quiet, nervous boy stumbled to the altar. A moment later, a shimmering orb of water, clear and perfect, hovered above his palm. A collective sigh of relief swept through the onlookers. A Water Sephirah. A future healer.
Each success was a weight added to Kaelen's shoulders. Each happy outcome made the possibility of his own failure—or worse—loom larger.
Then, the priest's voice called the name that turned the air in his lungs to ice.
"Kaelen of the Parish Orphanage."
The walk to the stone altar was an eternity. Every eye felt like a physical pressure. He knelt, the rough stone cold against his knees. Priest Deng Yongchuan placed a dry, cool hand on his brow. The prayer began, the words familiar and hollow.
"Gaia, Mother of All, Eva, She Who Sees. Look upon this child…"
Kaelen closed his eyes. He poured every ounce of will into his silent plea. Please. Not for me. For the boy who lived this life before me. Give him something good. Something… whole.
He reached inward, searching for the connection to this world that everyone else seemed to have.
What he found was the void.
It was the silence after the car crash. The emptiness of his life as Leo. The hollow ache of the orphanage. It was a cold, vast, and hungry nothingness that had been woven into the very core of his new being.
It surged upward, not as light or energy, but as an absence. A negation.
The sound around him died, swallowed by an profound silence. The vibrant colors near him leached away into muted greys. He felt a terrible, draining pull.
He opened his eyes.
The stone beneath his knees was not cracking. It was turning to fine, ancient ash, as if centuries of decay had happened in a single heartbeat.
A horrified gasp ripped through the crowd.
Priest Deng Yongchuan recoiled, snatching his hand back as if touched by death itself. He stared, not at Kaelen, but at the space around him, his face a mask of pure, religious terror.
"Decay…" he whispered, the word echoing in the dead air.
Then, his voice found its strength, sharp and condemning. "HERESY!"
The word was a signal. The crowd's fearful anticipation twisted into something ugly and violent. The faces that had been hopeful moments before were now contorted with rage and fear.
"Blight!" someone screamed.
"Abomination!"
He saw Jax, the Fire adept, staring at him not with camaraderie, but with revulsion. He saw Finn hiding behind his water globe.
And then he saw Lila, Anya, and Maya. Their faces were frozen. Lila's hand was over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock. Anya's expression was hard, her body tense as if ready to fight—or flee. Maya looked devastated, her large eyes filled with a deep, sorrowful pity that was somehow worse than anger.
The first stone flew past his head, striking the altar with a sharp crack.
Every instinct screamed one thing: RUN.
He scrambled backward, falling into the dirt, then pushed himself up and fled. He didn't look back. The angry shouts and cries of pursuit were a storm at his heels. He ran from the square, from his future, from the only fragments of friendship he'd known, into the maze of narrow alleys, utterly and completely alone.
The promise of a new life had ended. Now, only survival remained.