The heavy doors slammed shut with a thud behind the group—a sound that echoed not just through the hall, but within Kaelion's very chest. The interior was immense, so vast it made the oval hall they had previously occupied look like a mere waiting room. The ceiling seemed to disappear into a profound darkness, punctuated by floating crystals that emitted a soft magenta light, pulsing in hypnotic harmony with the runes etched into the walls.
Everyone who entered stood agape, paralyzed for a moment as they admired the grandeur of the arcane sanctuary. But for Kaelion, the visual beauty was accompanied by physical agony. Outside, he had felt only a slight discomfort in his Mana Gate, but upon crossing the threshold, the sensation spiked drastically. It felt as though his chest were about to explode from internal pressure, as if something inside him were desperate to break free.
His body hunched over, hand pressing against the point of pain. He turned discreetly and realized he was not alone in his suffering. The contorted faces and pained gazes of his companions showed that this was no organic ailment, but an overwhelming mystical response to the energy of the space.
Still, despite the discomfort, he forced himself to look around and appreciate his surroundings. The floating energy was monstrous—a force so singular he had never encountered its equal in the books he studied. Despite being a commoner, his father had seen to it that he learned to read and write, a precious gift inherited from the time when their family still enjoyed the wealth of great merchants.
Far at the end of the wide central corridor, he spotted three colossal statues, each bearing a distinct head representing different aspects of faith and magic. The first, with the Head of a Bull, symbolized Brute Strength, linked to the enhancement of physical and mental potency. The second, the Human Head, was the pillar of Elemental and Spiritual Magic, the most common among the nobility. And the third, which took him a moment to identify, was revealed to be a Snake.
In the Church of the Holy Trinity, the Snake Statue represented Non-Elemental Magic—that which does not submit to the elements of nature. Kaelion knew there was a deep-seated prejudice against this form of magic. Many, perhaps influenced by ancient legends and lies, saw the snake as a symbol of betrayal and poison, always coiled and ready to strike. Truthfully, it was a difficult path; few dared to follow it, making its mastery slow and solitary.
Behind the statues, something even more impressive caught his eye: what appeared to be a waterfall descending directly from the ceiling, like a natural cascade amidst the architecture. But there was no water. As Kaelion focused on the fall, he perceived pure energy emanating from it—an ethereal blue light radiating from what should have been "water," bathing the altar in a divine aura.
To the left of the statues stood heavy fruit trees: pears, apples, bananas, oranges, and tangerines gleamed with a freshness that seemed impossible at such a distance. To the right stretched miraculous fields of wheat, rice, beans, soy, and corn—grains that seemed to sprout directly from the temple's stone floors.
"Offerings to the gods..." Kaelion murmured to himself.
He was right. His studies of the books his father managed to save from the family's old fortune spoke of the gods and their demands for offerings. But he noticed a disturbing absence. It wasn't just flowers and fruits the gods desired; they also required blood. He looked around for any sign of animals—a goat or an ox for sacrifice—but found nothing.
A cold shiver ran down his spine. Do they sacrifice humans? he thought, glancing nervously from side to side.
In some ancient cultures, human sacrifice had been a grim reality. Kaelion recalled reading or hearing stories about how, a thousand years ago, it was a common practice. However, the chronicles claimed that after the arrival of the Summoned King—the sovereign who founded the Kingdom of Alafia—human sacrifice was strictly forbidden, decreeing that only animals be used for such purposes.
Despite the ancient laws, who could ensure that the old ways did not persist in the shadows of the temple? The fear was real; after all, if a few commoners disappeared during the ritual, who would truly miss them?
The Summoned King had also brought curious changes to Alafia, such as in fashion. For castle galas, he instituted the mandatory use of suits, something only the wealthiest nobles could afford due to the high cost of quality tailoring. The only area where the High Priest remained inflexible and traditionalist was the Church of the Holy Trinity. There, reverence demanded the classic: ritualistic robes and noble attire for the Awakening.
While sharp pains pulsed in his chest, Kaelion found the courage to stand straight and observe the center of the hall. A little ahead of the three great statues, he saw two men walking solemnly toward an imposing pulpit that rose two meters above the floor where the young adults were positioned.
Leading the procession was a man who appeared to be over seventy years old, yet he moved with the firmness of an oak. He wore a robe of Pure White, so bright and clear it seemed surreal, as if the garment were woven of pure Arcane energy, molding perfectly to his body. On his head, he wore a triangular Mitre, approximately thirty to forty centimeters tall. The sacred object was covered in glowing runes and symbols referring to the three heads of the gods, and above them hovered the Tetragrammaton—the supreme symbol of the Creator, Hakamiah.
The ritualistic robe, beyond its dazzling white, featured intricate details in pure gold, forming complex religious symbols that Kaelion could not decipher; secrets guarded by the high hierarchy. Around his neck, he wore a necklace with an Ankh Cross, a symbol of life and power. In his right hand, the man held a staff carved from solid gold, adorned with magical stones that glowed with every step he took across the stone floor. Just behind him was the priest who had greeted the youths earlier in the Entrance Hall.
This second priest stayed one step behind the elder in a posture that could be seen as that of a bodyguard, but his high-ranking vestments made it clear he held a prominent position, likely second-in-command of the institution.
When the Patriarch reached the pulpit, he released his staff. Kaelion watched, marveled, as the object floated beside the master—irrefutable proof that it was a Magic Staff of immeasurable power, accessible only to the Patriarchs.
The elder placed his left hand on the pulpit and, with a swift, precise gesture, snapped the fingers of his right hand. The sound of the snap echoed through the vast hall like a crack of thunder, instantly capturing everyone's attention and accomplishing something they had all been silently praying for: the intense pain in his sternum stabilized at once, dissipating like mist under the sun.
A collective sigh of relief rippled through the group. Everyone looked at the Patriarch with a mixture of reverence and deep gratitude. However, the Patriarch ignored the thankful gazes with a nearly divine indifference. He took a deep breath, straightened his Mitre, and began to speak, his voice resonating with the weight of centuries of tradition.
"Young Masters and Young Ladies," the Patriarch began, his voice so clear it seemed not just to echo in the air, but to seat itself within the mind of everyone listening. "Today is one of the most significant days in the life of any citizen of the Kingdom of Alafia. Today, we celebrate the Ceremony of Awakening."
He paused, scanning the hall as if he could see into the soul of every person present, much like an invisible x-ray. Under that gaze, Kaelion felt vulnerable, as if he no longer had any secrets to hide.
"The ritual itself is simple, but it requires an enormous amount of Arcane Energy—or, as some of you younger ones often say: Mana."
Without warning, he raised his right hand. A wave of pure white energy shot from his palm, looking like a laser cutting through the air with an electric hum. This discharge of mana struck a massive mana stone hanging from the ceiling by black metal chains. At the moment of collision, the hall shook violently, as if an earthquake were happening beneath them. Screams of terror escaped the young ladies, and many boys lost their balance, their voices joining the clamor of confusion and fear.
After colliding with the rune stone, the white energy descended like a cascade of liquid light, flowing toward a ritualistic circle engraved on the floor in front of the pulpit. The circle began to glow intensely, manifesting rainbow hues, but with a difference that was, to say the least, disturbing compared to the colors of the natural world.
Beyond the usual seven colors of the spectrum, there was an eighth at the edge: an absolute black, a shadow that seemed to consume the light around it instead of reflecting it.
Kaelion observed this anomaly with narrowed eyes, his mind racing. This made no sense based on what he had learned. Since when did the rainbow have eight colors instead of seven? What did this eighth black color represent for the magical world and the future that awaited them? These were questions that needed asking, but the time for doubt was running out.
While everyone remained hypnotized by the beam of light directed at the circle, new symbols began to emerge from the glow—ancient and complex runes that snaked across the floor, preparing for the first youth to be called to awaken.
The screams of the young ladies and some of the boys echoed through the hall like a discordant choir of the truly terrified, fearing for their lives in the face of such a display of power. It was in this climate of panic that the First Priest, who had received them earlier, stepped forward. His voice cut through the air with impressive authority.
"Silence! You stand before the Patriarch of the Church of the Holy Trinity! How can the heirs of nobles and merchants be so insolent?"
The priest's shout was deafening, sounding far louder than any human voice should under normal conditions. Kaelion, watching from a corner, noticed a slight tremor in the air around the cleric; undoubtedly, he was using some type of magic to amplify his voice and thus master the collective panic.
In a way, Kaelion couldn't disagree with the scolding. A bitter satisfaction grew in his chest. How could the high nobility and the "brainless"—the children of wealthy merchants who thought themselves superior—fail to maintain their composure even before the Patriarch? To him, it only proved they were a group of spoiled youths whose personalities were as fragile as paper, sustained only by status and money. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips as he watched the nobles tremble.
The Patriarch raised his left hand with a calm gesture, and silence finally took hold of the place, heavy and absolute. He continued to speak with a serenity that contrasted with the chaos of the previous seconds.
"My young ones, you need not fear for your lives. In this place, everyone is safe, and I personally guarantee that no harm will come to you," he said, using his voice like a balm for frayed nerves. "Allow me to explain how the ritual will proceed."
The main beam of light that previously illuminated the circle stopped, but the energy had not totally disappeared. Kaelion noticed that in the ceiling, there were eight smaller magic stones—strategically arranged around the main stone—that now glowed intensely. They were light sources, and the tip of each reflected a color of the rainbow that had descended upon the seal, including that intriguing eighth black shade.
"As you all know, you are only considered adults by the Law of the Kingdom of Alafia and the Holy Law of the Church of the Holy Trinity after completing your fifteenth birthday." The Patriarch paused briefly as he accepted a chalice of water brought to him by a priest in a light-green robe. After a slow sip to moisten his throat, he continued, "And it is exactly at this sacred moment of transition that you may finally awaken your Mana Gate or your Nucleus."
At that moment, the priest in the baby-blue robe approached the Patriarch with measured steps. In his hands, he carefully held a crystal flask filled with a dense, purple liquid. The substance appeared sticky, with an internal glow that moved slowly, giving it an exotic and, to Kaelion, deeply strange appearance.
Will we have to drink that? Kaelion thought, observing the flask from a distance. A cold knot of uncertainty coiled in his stomach as he stared at the mesmerizing glow of the liquid.
"As some of you may have heard in stories or records, this is the Liquor of Awakening," the Patriarch announced, raising the flask for all to see. "And I can guarantee that it is not easy to produce. Its manufacture requires time and rare ingredients, harvested in places where many mercenaries, mages, and knights have already lost their lives trying to reach them."
The Patriarch's tone became graver, underlining the importance of that revelation.
"Because of this, the ritual is extremely expensive. Most of the time, the cost is so high that even some influential nobles or powerful merchants do not have the courage or the resources to pay for such an ingredient."
Kaelion felt the weight of that statement like a punch to the chest. He had always known his family made sacrifices, but discovering that the price involved something even the nobility feared to pay changed his perspective. He noticed the weight of the other eyes in the room upon him, and even the Patriarch seemed, for an instant, to cast a glance in his direction.
Ignoring the scrutiny, a flame of determination began to burn within him. They sacrificed everything for me... he thought. He made a silent promise that he would give every drop of his sweat to repay his family. He would not let their effort be in vain; he would rise to the top, cost what it may. If it were necessary to sacrifice his sanity, his time, or even his life, he would do so without hesitation. He would step over any obstacle and anyone who tried to stop him from becoming an Archmage or an Imperial Saint Guard—the legendary title that stood above all swordsmen in the kingdom.
"Well, let us begin!" the Patriarch ordered, his voice echoing through the hall with unquestionable authority. "When I call your name, come to the circle and stand still. Do not move. Drink the liquid you receive and wait until I give the order to leave. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Lord High Patriarch!" everyone shouted in unison, their voices joined by fear and the expectation of what was to come.
"Gadriel," the Patriarch announced with a voice that sounded like an ancestral command.
A boy, about five-foot-five, stood out from the crowd and headed toward the center of the circle. He stopped right in the middle, motionless, obeying the Patriarch's orders. The Priest in Baby-Blue descended from the pulpit with smooth movements and handed a viscous flask to the youth, stepping away immediately after. Under the watchful eyes of everyone, Gadriel drank the purple liquid as he was commanded.
Kaelion watched in absolute silence. Although the liquid looked strange and somewhat revolting, he knew there was no room for questioning here; what could he argue against millennia of tradition?
Once the liquid was consumed, the priest took the empty flask and returned to his place. Kaelion, with his analytical gaze, noticed a detail: beside the priest, there were exactly fifty-six flasks. Fifty-five of them were full, and one was now empty. He quickly concluded that this was the total number of candidates ready to awaken their Mana Gate that night.
The Patriarch, seeing his assistant pull away, raised his right hand toward the large, suspended mana stone. Pure white energy shot out again, striking the upper crystal. The stone vibrated intensely, but instead of glowing entirely, one of the eight smaller stones on the ceiling reacted in isolation. A beam of vibrant red light descended like a spear upon Gadriel, who kept his eyes tightly shut.
The light seemed to carry intense heat, but curiously, it did not burn his clothes or his skin. Gadriel stood there for what seemed like an eternity, until something began to happen in his sternum. A warm and invigorating energy began to flow through his limbs, converging violently toward the Mana Gate. The shock almost drove him to panic, but the Patriarch's shout brought him back to reality.
"It is done, Gadriel! Blessed by the Man-God and the Nature of Fire!" the Patriarch bellowed.
Gadriel awakened with the elemental affinity of Fire. Kaelion, watching closely, noticed that Gadriel's aura had visibly changed; he now emanated a reddish hue, as if surrounded by invisible flames. So that's how the awakening happens, Kaelion thought. I thought it would be something more complicated. It doesn't seem that difficult... aside from being expensive.
"Jeniffer Von Hazmum," the Patriarch called.
Kaelion saw the girl in blue approach the circle with an arrogance that suggested she owned the entire temple. There was something about her that immediately repelled Kaelion. He didn't know if it was just an accumulated prejudice toward the nobility or an incompatibility of essences, but he felt an instantaneous disdain for her.
"It is done, Jeniffer Von Hazmum! Blessed by the Man-God, by Spiritual Nature, and the Earth Element!"
A round of excited applause echoed through the hall. Having two affinities was notable, but the combination of Spiritual Nature with Earth was so rare it was worth all the acclaim. Jealousy flashed in the eyes of many youths present; having a spiritual affinity was already a privilege, but Jeniffer's combo placed her at the level of "blessed" in the eyes of society.
"Evil Von Lux," the elder summoned.
Evil walked forward in silence. Kaelion recognized him: he was the calm youth he had bumped into in the changing room. For a brief moment, Kaelion thought of thanking him for his earlier kindness, but the reminder that he was a noble of high lineage made him recoil. A dense, violet beam descended upon Evil, enveloping his body. Kaelion noticed that, even beneath the tunic, Evil's musculature seemed to undergo a slight but powerful expansion.
"It is done, Evil Von Lux! Blessed by the Bull God! Blessed by Strength! May your potency grow for the sake of the Kingdom!"
One by one, the names were called. The ritual followed a rhythmic pattern. Many received simple elemental blessings—water, earth, fire, or air. Only two people manifested two elements simultaneously. Another received the blessing of the Spirit, and fifteen were touched by the Beast, gaining physical strength and mental agility.
Until that moment, no one had been blessed by the Snake. Kaelion knew the path of Non-Elemental Magic was lonely and looked down upon, but he didn't care. If this was his destiny, he would accept it and work twice as hard to evolve. Nothing in his life had been easy, so why should his awakening be any different?
"Asterion Von Milles," the Patriarch called.
So that is your name... Kaelion thought, fixing his gaze on the plump noble. The Milles family, of ducal lineage, was the most influential in the Aldebaran region. For some reason he couldn't yet define, Kaelion felt a bubbling rage toward that boy.
Asterion's awakening began normally, with the blue glow of Water and the green of Earth. However, suddenly, a third violet glow descended from the ceiling with unprecedented force. The hall fell into a shocked silence. Since when did someone receive the simultaneous blessing of the Man-God and the Bull God? To possess two natural elements and a boost of brute force was surreal—a feat that left even the Patriarch speechless for a few seconds.
"It is done, Asterion Von Milles! Blessed by the Man-God and the Bull God! Chosen by the elements of Earth and Water, and by the strength of the Beast! May you be the pride of the Kingdom of Alafia and the Church!"
The applause that followed was deafening. Murmurs of adulation filled the air like toxic smoke: "He truly is a chosen one..." "Thank goodness my family is allied with the Milles..." "I must thank my father for making me give him that gift..."
Kaelion felt a deep disgust. Wretched son of a bitch... he cursed mentally. He knew that from then on, Asterion would be insufferable. It wasn't envy, but a visceral loathing whose origin he didn't yet understand, yet it burned in his chest like an ember.
While he was lost in his silent hatred, the hall suddenly went quiet. The number of flasks was nearly at an end. The Patriarch took a deep breath and proclaimed the last name on the list.
"Kaelion!"
A slight anxiety, cold and persistent, began to take hold of Kaelion as he heard his name pronounced by the Patriarch. Even having grown up in harsh fields, where the sweat of Kandria and Maribel ensured his survival and hunting was the only way to taste meat, it was only natural that he was trembling inside.
Who hasn't felt this before the unknown? It is a natural reaction; the heart races when faced with something new, be it a first job or a change that can transform an entire life. Kaelion was just a youth carrying the weight of a fallen lineage on his shoulders.
He walked in total silence, crossing the corridor filled with nobles. With every step, he heard murmurs of disdain that struck not only his honor but the honor of his family. The same poisonous insinuations—"his mother must have prostituted herself for him to be here"—cut him deeply. Only he knew the purity of the love between Maribel and Kandria; only he had witnessed his mother's strength in keeping the family together.
Vivid memories flashed through his mind: Maribel crying uncontrollably upon seeing Kandria's amputated arm, and how she worked twice as hard under the sun in the few crops they had on the small farm—a modest legacy his grandfather managed to buy with the last coins of the old merchant fortune. If the insults were only directed at him, perhaps he wouldn't care so much, but attacking his mother awakened a terrifying thirst for vengeance. In his thoughts, he saw himself cutting the throats of each of those youths and pouring their blue blood onto the altar as an offering. However, he forced himself to swallow his own fury. He needed to control himself. At least for now.
Every step toward the circle seemed to carry the weight of the world. The memory of his sister's joy upon discovering he possessed a Mana Gate was what kept him steady. The sacrifice of his father, plowing the land with only one hand, was his compass.
Finally, he reached the center of the ritualistic circle.
The floor was covered by a complex web of mystical symbols, with a Tetragrammaton drawn exactly where he was to position himself. Kaelion closed his eyes and tried to meditate, seeking a connection with the divinity. The Priest approached and handed him the viscous purple liquid. Kaelion swallowed it in one gulp.
Instantly, a violent nausea hit him. Hot bile rose in his throat, threatening to expel the expensive liquor. He knew that if he vomited, he would lose everything: his parents' money, his sister's sacrifice, and his own honor. He would not give the nobles that satisfaction. With a superhuman effort, he held back the bile and swallowed the bitter reflux, returning the empty flask to the priest.
Minutes began to pass, and the silence became oppressive. Unlike the others, who felt heat or strength as soon as the light descended, Kaelion felt nothing. The void was absolute.
Anguish began to devour him from the inside. Am I a fraud? Will I be blessed by no one? he questioned himself in despair. From afar, laughter echoed: "Typical for a commoner, no divinity wants to touch him," some said. "What a disappointment of a son," others whispered.
Kaelion's rage reached its peak. He was about to open his eyes and flee, but pride kept him rooted to the spot. He would not give his critics that satisfaction.
The Patriarch was already opening his mouth to call him, perhaps out of compassion, when the unthinkable happened.
A beam of black light, dense as midnight itself, descended brutally upon Kaelion. The Patriarch stood speechless, paralyzed. Even being the blessing of the Snake—a deity criticized and feared, associated with non-elemental magic—the intensity of that manifestation demanded respect and silence.
Kaelion, for his part, was seized by a cutting cold. It was as if he were being cast naked into an eternal glacier. His teeth chattered frantically; his blood seemed to freeze in his veins. He felt every bone in his body being broken and reconstructed in a rhythmic agony. When the cold hit his Mana Gate, he couldn't hold back and let out a deafening scream that made the entire hall tremble with fear.
He collapsed to the floor, vomiting blood and bile over the runic symbols. His eyes snapped open, but the crimson inherited from his father had vanished, replaced by a deep, milky white—whiter than his mother's pale skin. It was the manifested void.
Kaelion writhed in agony, but the black light never stopped radiating from his body. Kaelion's ritual stretched for fifteen minutes—an eternity compared to the usual ten minutes for the nobles—leaving the Patriarch and the priests in a state of undeniable dread.
For the youth on the ground, time had lost all meaning. He cursed his own existence and hated every laugh he had heard, until, slowly, the pain began to recede. The cold transformed into an embrace. Something dark yet welcoming began to fill him, filling the gaps in his soul.
Finally, the black light dissipated.
Kaelion rose slowly, feeling different, as if he had been molded from a new metal. He felt stronger, more agile, as if gravity itself had less influence over him.
"It is done, Kaelion!" the Patriarch announced, his voice wavering slightly. "Blessed by the Snake God! Your essence is the Non-Elemental!"
Kaelion walked back to his place in absolute silence, ignoring the few nobles who still tried to mock him. He had no ears for them; his attention was fixed on the floor. He tried to understand why, under the light of the crystals, he now possessed two distinct shadows that moved almost independently.
"The Ceremony of Awakening is concluded," the Patriarch declared, regaining his composure. "You may all return home and await the Temple's letter regarding the commencement of your training."
With those words, the Patriarch descended from the pulpit, followed by his retinue. But before crossing the magic portal to the inner chambers, he hesitated, looking back and fixing his gaze on Kaelion for one last moment—a look that carried a meaning the young commoner could not yet understand. Then, the Patriarch disappeared into the portal, leaving behind the Son of Shadows.