The plaza reeked of incense and sweat. Dozens of youths stood in neat lines, their gazes fixed on the raised platform where robed examiners oversaw the awakening ceremony. Banners of the sect fluttered above, a serpent coiled around a mountain peak—an emblem of strength and tradition.
Kaelen stood among them, his borrowed body thin and forgettable. His palms itched where the slave seal burned faintly, reminding him of the price of failure. If he could not integrate, if he drew suspicion, his existence would be forfeit.
The examiner, a stern man with iron-grey hair, raised his voice. "Step forward one at a time. Place your hand upon the altar. Let your spirit manifest and show the truth of your potential."
One by one, the children obeyed. Flames roared to life above some heads, spectral tigers padded into being, hawks screeched with piercing clarity. The crowd of onlookers gasped and murmured, elders nodding with approval or shaking their heads with disdain.
Power. Pride. Status. All tied to the beast that appeared.
Kaelen's turn came too quickly. The examiner's sharp gaze cut into him, weighing his every movement.
He stepped onto the platform, heartless chest tightening with a sensation that mimicked dread. The altar pulsed faintly, runes awakening as his hand pressed down. For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—mist coiled upward.
A serpent slithered into view, dull grey and nearly translucent, its form so faint it might have been smoke. Its eyes were empty hollows, its scales blurred as if half-rotted.
Laughter erupted from the watching youths.
"Pathetic!" one jeered.
"Even rats would laugh at that thing!" another sneered.
"Grey? Is that even a spirit?"
The examiner's mouth twisted in disdain. He waved his sleeve as though brushing away a fly. "Record him as low-tier. If he survives, it will be a miracle."
Kaelen lowered his gaze, letting the ridicule wash over him. Outwardly, he bore it with silence. Inwardly, the serpent stirred.
Within his Soul Palace, unseen by any but him, the faint serpent twitched. Its skin cracked. A shimmer of light bled through the dull grey, as though molten silver ran beneath ash.
Molting.
Pain lanced through Kaelen's mind, sharp and searing. He gritted his teeth, keeping his expression blank. No one could know. The mocking continued, but he heard none of it—only the rasping shift of scales shedding within the darkness of his inner world.
The serpent coiled tighter, its husk peeling away bit by bit. Not stronger yet, not revealed—but changing. Preparing.
Kaelen bowed slightly, stepped down from the platform, and returned to his place among the failures. His lips twitched—not quite a smile, but the shadow of one.
Let them laugh, he thought. They see ash. They don't see the fire underneath.
The serpent hissed silently in reply, its faint echo rattling the chains of his seal.
And for the first time, Kaelen felt certain—his path would not be one of survival alone. It would be one of conquest, hidden in plain sight.