The ceremony ended without ceremony.
There was no announcement, no applause, no lingering reverence. Once the last name was called and the final glow faded from the Awakening Pillar, the priests simply dismissed the crowd and began recording results in thick, rune-etched ledgers.
Power, after all, was not something to celebrate.
It was something to manage.
Phaeros stepped away from the platform slowly, acutely aware of the way the air felt different around him. Not heavier. Not lighter.
Watchful.
His palms were still faintly warm, as if they remembered the touch of the stone. He flexed his fingers once, carefully, testing for any reaction.
Nothing happened.
Good.
Around him, the newly awakened clustered together in small, uncertain groups. Some were excited, already comparing abilities. Others stood alone, staring at their hands as though waiting for something else to happen.
A boy nearby laughed nervously as a thin wisp of flame danced above his fingers. Another girl burst into tears when her "enhanced hearing" manifested too suddenly, overwhelming her senses.
Phaeros watched all of it with the detached calm of someone who had seen these scenes play out before.
He had once stood among them, just as confused.
Just as unprepared.
His gaze drifted toward the edge of the plaza, where the priests were conferring in low voices. Their eyes flicked toward him more than once.
So they noticed.
Of course they did.
"Undefined" always drew attention.
Not admiration — suspicion.
A presence shifted beside him.
"You were strange up there."
The voice was calm, cool, and direct.
Phaeros turned.
Rhaelis stood at his side, arms loosely folded. Up close, she looked even more composed than she had from a distance. Her posture was straight, deliberate, like someone used to being judged and refusing to flinch.
Her eyes were sharp, observant — the kind that missed very little.
"Strange how?" he asked.
"The pillar hesitated," she replied without preamble. "It doesn't do that."
He shrugged lightly. "Maybe it just didn't like me."
Her gaze sharpened. "That's not how it works."
A faint pause settled between them.
Phaeros studied her openly now. There was a quiet tension about her, like coiled wire beneath calm skin. He could feel it — not as power exactly, but as structure. Order. Something that wanted rules to exist so it could enforce them.
So early, he thought.
Already resonating.
"I'm Rhaelis," she said at last. "Contract-type."
"I heard," he replied.
She raised an eyebrow. "Everyone heard."
He almost smiled.
She studied him again, more carefully this time. "Yours was… different."
"That obvious?"
"Yes."
A pause.
"You didn't look surprised."
That was dangerous.
Phaeros considered his answer carefully.
"I don't think I'd know how to look surprised," he said finally.
Rhaelis frowned slightly, then shook her head as if dismissing the thought. "Well. If you don't mind attention, you'll get plenty of it."
"I was hoping not to."
She huffed softly — not quite a laugh. "Good luck with that."
For a moment, they stood in silence, watching the plaza slowly empty. He felt it again — that faint pressure, distant but present, as though something unseen were leaning in to observe the interaction.
He ignored it.
Rhaelis shifted her weight. "You're going to be assigned to a provisional group soon. Everyone with unstable or rare manifestations is."
That tracks, he thought.
"I figured."
Her gaze flicked to his chest, just briefly, before returning to his face. "Be careful. The instructors will say it's for your safety."
"And it isn't?"
"It is," she said evenly. "Just not yours."
He let out a quiet breath.
Some things really didn't change.
A sharp voice cut through the low murmur of the plaza.
"All newly awakened candidates, remain where you are. Further evaluation will follow."
The priests had regrouped. One of them — tall, sharp-featured, with eyes like polished stone — stepped forward. His gaze swept the crowd, lingering briefly on Phaeros and Rhaelis before moving on.
Phaeros felt a familiar chill crawl up his spine.
You, the look seemed to say. You're interesting.
He hated that look.
The group began to shift again, nervous murmurs spreading.
Rhaelis leaned slightly closer. "You should keep your head down," she murmured. "They won't like anything they can't classify."
"I've noticed."
She studied him for a heartbeat longer, then nodded once. "If we're placed together… don't make trouble."
"I don't plan to."
That earned him a skeptical look.
The priest raised his staff, and the air hummed faintly.
"Candidates with unstable or incomplete manifestations will be escorted for further evaluation," he announced. "Remain calm. This is procedure."
Several people stiffened.
A few paled.
Phaeros exhaled slowly.
So it begins.
Movement rippled through the crowd as attendants approached. A young boy near the front began to cry. Another protested weakly before being guided away.
When one of the attendants approached Phaeros, he didn't resist.
He merely nodded and followed.
As he moved, he felt it again — that subtle sensation, like a presence leaning close enough to whisper.
Careful.
Too early.
Too visible.
A faint pressure brushed against his awareness, then faded.
He kept his face blank.
The corridor they were led into was narrow and dim, its walls lined with faintly glowing runes. The air felt heavier here, quieter.
Rhaelis walked a few steps ahead of him. She glanced back once, meeting his eyes.
For a moment, something unspoken passed between them — recognition, perhaps. Or instinct.
He gave a small nod.
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she didn't look away.
As the door at the end of the corridor opened, a familiar tension coiled in his chest.
This was where things had started to go wrong last time.
This was where attention sharpened into interest.
And interest became danger.
Still, beneath that unease, something else stirred — slow, patient, and faintly amused.
Like a folded shadow waiting to be unfolded.
Phaeros stepped forward.
Whatever came next, he would face it awake.