Today was the day of the Ceremony.
Every child in the Continent Of Halcyth faced it when they reached their thirteenth year of life.
They gathered in the Hall of Veins. A place that stood beneath the towering obelisks and let the Arcanists read the truth carved into their bodies long before they were even born and drew breath.
The Ceremony tested their Bloodmarks. It was those veins of power woven into the skin. Those Marks were invisible until awakened by the light of ether.
But a Bloodmark was more than a symbol. It was a declaration of purpose.
Some of these children had lines shaped for strength, the other children had different lines for healing or binding or weaving.
A rare few held dormant sigils that could shift the entire province or kingdom.
The Bloodmarks were gifts of the First Ancestors, threads of power passed down through generations. But to the children waiting in line, they felt more like chains they never asked for.
Many of them had thought how funny it was, how the fate of a person, the path they would walk for the rest of their life, depended on something decided before they ever opened their eyes.
They had no choice. No say. Only the Ceremony.
One child stood among the waiting line, neither fidgeting nor whispering like the others. He watched the glowing archway ahead with a stillness that set him apart.
His name was Dominic. He was too lean for his age, with sharp gray eyes that were always looking around and a slightly long dark hair tied back to keep it from falling into his face.
Shadows clung to him. It was not literal shadows, but the kind of shadows that grew from too many hours spent alone, thinking more deeply than a boy was expected to.
His hands stayed at his sides, steady despite the tension rising around him.
"I will know today," he told himself, the thought sharp and quiet. "Whatever they say, it will become my life."
And the line moved forward.
The Arcanist stepped forward. His robes brushed the polished stone as the first child approached.
The hall quieted.
The Arcanist raised a palm-sized tablet of ether crystal. Its surface glowed with soft white light.
"Place your hand here," he instructed.
The boy obeyed. Then he pressed his palm flat against the crystal.
Light burst across the tablet in branching patterns, racing along the etched channels.
The glow climbed the child's arm, revealing the hidden bright and sharp lines that shifting like molten silver beneath his skin.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
The Arcanist's eyes widened for a moment before he straightened, voice ringing through the open hall.
"This child has a Bloodmark called Bastion!"
Murmurs spread instantly. It sounded like a strong one.
The Arcanist continued in a flat tone as if reading something.
"Fortification lines. High ether resistance. Potential to manifest powerful barrier sigils in later years. A rare lineage gift!"
A cheer erupted from the gallery of onlookers.
The boy's parents surged forward, pride lighting their faces.
His mother clasped both hands to her mouth, trembling with joy.
His father only nodded with a faint, knowing smile, as if the outcome had been written in fate long before today.
Dominic watched them with a scowl he tried to hide. Of course they were nobles. Of course their son was destined for a grand path. Children born with gilded names usually carried gilded marks.
He shifted his weight, jaw tightening as bitterness curled through his chest.
They walked into the Hall already promised a future. They were certain of their worth before a single etherlight touched their skin.
He, on the other hand, would be fortunate if his Bloodmark allowed him even a modest job in the Labyrinth, and if it held any value at all.
The boy stepped away from the tablet, basking in applause as the line moved again.
Dominic swallowed hard. His turn crept closer. If he got something bad his future would be bad!
One by one, the children before him stepped forward to be appraised. Their fates unfolded in brief flashes of light.
A timid girl revealed a dim lattice of lines the Arcanist announced as Hollow Reed, which was a weak Mark useful only for minor crafting.
She left with her shoulders slumped.
The next, a broad-shouldered commoner boy earned startled applause when the crystal flared bright gold.
"Bloodmark Stonepulse!" the Arcanist declared. Even he sounded impressed.
The boy's family cried in disbelief.
Then came more nobles, each stepping forward as if the world already belonged to them. Their marks glimmered with effortless promise.
"Aether Gale."
"Moonbinder."
"Verdant Crown."
Each name drew gasps and cheers.
Dominic's stomach twisted. The line grew shorter. His heartbeat pounded deeper and louder.
Then the Arcanist called, "Next."
Dominic stepped into the glowing circle. For a moment, the Arcanist only looked at him up and down. His eyes narrowed with a resigned expectation as if he already saw the kind of mark a child like Dominic would carry. A weak, plain, and worthless Mark.
Still, the man turned the tablet toward him. He was just doing his job after all.
"Place your hand here."
Dominic swallowed, then pressed his palm flat against the crystal.
Etherlight surged instantly. The channels flared with harsh and crackling sounds that weren't like the others. The Arcanist felt that something was wrong.
The Arcanist jerked back as if burned.
Dominic froze with wide eyes. His heart hammered against his ribs. Did it work? Was it good? He thought.
But the Arcanist's face had gone pale.
He whispered first, then spoke louder for the hall to hear.
"I… I have never seen anything this bad before."
A shocked murmur rippled through the hall.
The Arcanist shook his head, disbelief twisting his features.
"You are truly unfortunate. Your Bloodmark have no potential or abilities."
Dominic blinked several times. The world around him seemed to wobble, as if the floor had shifted beneath his feet.
For a moment there, he almost believed the opposite, that the violent sounds of etherlight meant something rare, something powerful. Something that set him apart from even the noble kids.
Maybe, just maybe, his Bloodmark had been extraordinary.
Maybe it had been unique.
But those thin and desperate hopes had only lifted him so it could drop him harder. The fall was sharp and merciless.
A Bloodmark with no potential. No ability. So it was equal to no purpose.
The hall erupted in whispers.
"How could someone have nothing?"
"Is that even possible?"
"Did the ancestors curse him or something?"
"A boy with an empty mark… what does that make him?"
Voices swirled around him, overlapping into a rising tide of disbelief and contempt. But Dominic heard none of it clearly. His ears rang with a dull hum, his thoughts washed blank by the shock.
His mind refused to grasp the words spoken over him as if numbness wrapped itself around him to dull the blow.
The Arcanist cleared his throat, already eager to move past the anomaly. "Step aside. Move to the back."
His voice was cold. Dismissive.
Dominic's legs felt stiff, but he forced them to move.
As he slipped past the row of children waiting, several noble-born boys and girls sneered openly.
Their veins still shone with lingering light of crisp blues, vivid greens, or radiant gold as if flaunting their newly awakened power. They looked at Dominic as if he stood beneath them.
One of them whispered to another with a mocking smile on his lips.
"He doesn't even have a real mark. Haha," the boy snickered. "What's he supposed to do? Sweep floors in the Labyrinth?"
Another girl flicked her eyes over Dominic with open disdain. She was the one who had a Verdant Crown mark that now pulsing softly as if to highlight the distance between them.
"Maybe they should test him again," she said. "No bloodline should be that empty."
"Or maybe he's cursed. That would explain it," a third voice cut in, sharper than the rest. The boy leaned slightly forward, his own mark gleaming with smug confidence. "You never know with lowborn commoners. Who knows what they meddle with."
Their laughter followed him like a shadow as he walked.
Dominic lowered his gaze.
"I'm finished. My life is over."
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