The temple's dome held the dawn like a crown. Light spilled through the oculus above and struck the Awakening Crystal at its heart. The great prism pulsed once, scattering rainbows over silk-draped nobles and dirt-clad peasants alike.
Today, futures would be carved in stone.
The High Priest's voice rang out, heavy with ritual.
"By the First Oath, let the light choose."
One by one, students stepped forward.
Tessa placed her hands on the crystal, chin high. The gem breathed, glyphs of weight and pressure wrapping around her arms. She flexed, and the platform beneath her cracked. Weightweaving. The knights clapped, eager for power that could shatter fortresses.
Braun went next, broad shoulders squared. The crystal sparked into lattices of stone and dust, binding him with earthen glyphs. Earthbinding. Reliable, sturdy, like the boy himself.
Then the name everyone waited for.
"Lucen Vale."
The hall tilted toward me. Nobles leaned forward, peasants craned their necks. Even the priests' robes rustled with expectation.
I walked forward with the ease my father drilled into me. A Vale doesn't falter. Not before gods, not before men.
I pressed my palms to the crystal.
At first, nothing. Then a sound like a bowstring pulled too far. The light strained, condensed, until it burst into shape.
A blade of radiance formed above my shoulder. Runes etched and erased themselves along its edge, shifting—short sword, scimitar, halberd—before settling into a greatsword that hummed like a living thing.
Gasps filled the hall.
"Dominion Blade," one priest whispered, voice trembling. "The scourge of demons…"
The words clung to the air like frost. Demons—stories old men told to frighten children—suddenly real.
The weapon thrummed in my grasp, not heavy, not light, but inevitable. For a heartbeat I thought I heard it whisper. Claim. Protect.
I turned, instinct pulling me to the back of the hall.
Lioren stood there, plain robe hanging loose, no noble sash, no crest. He wasn't watching the blade. He was watching the shadow it cast where no shadow should be, lips moving like he was counting a rhythm no one else could hear.
The High Priest raised his staff. "As expected of the Vale line!" Nobles erupted. Spears clashed the floor. My sister Elira's voice squeaked over the roar: "That's my brother!"
I bowed because that's what my body knew to do. Inside, my thoughts spun. A scourge of demons? Was this blade meant to fight… monsters that shouldn't exist?
"Lioren Thalen."
The noise died.
Lioren stepped forward, quiet as ever, dust still clinging to his robe. He set his hands on the crystal the way one might touch the door of a house he didn't own.
A hum. Soft as breath. Glyphs flickered above his brow—spirals, ratios, threads. Trace Insight.
The officiant sighed loud enough to echo. "Analytical. Non-combative." His staff lifted to move on.
Snickers rippled through the nobles. "A peasant's trick." "Useless."
But then the glyph twisted. For the briefest instant, the crystal corrected the angle of the sunbeam through the oculus. Dust in the air was mapped like stars. Hidden patterns revealed themselves.
My heart stuttered.
Then it vanished. Like a thought you meant to write down but didn't.
The crowd exhaled relief. The world hadn't shifted after all. Just a weak boy with a weak gift.
Lioren walked back, shoulders squared despite the whispers. Seren—watching from the edges—reached out, brushing his sleeve. Only then did he breathe.
I clenched my fist. The Dominion pulsed in my grip, eager, alive ready to protect the kingdom and its people