Months had slipped by, yet today carried a distinct weight—it marked exactly one year since the Awakening Ceremony of Morvane. The day he had walked away unmarked, powerless, and defeated. That mont had carved a wound in his pride, one that festered in silence for months.
But ti had a way of unveiling truths. Through trials and whispers of hidden strength, Morvane had uncovered sothing within himself—a power that pulsed with purpose, one that defied the sha of his past. He was no longer the hollow vessel he had believed himself to be.
Yet, for all his newfound strength, a shadow lingered in his mind: Hiraya. Her na was a wound he couldn’t heal, a mory etched in blood and regret. He should have been the one to end her, to spare her the tornt. Instead, it was das who had struck the fatal blow.
The weight of that decision bore down on him each day, each night. There wasn’t a mont when the thought didn’t claw at his conscience, haunting him in the stillness.
The months that followed had been anything but kind. Morvane had neither the courage nor the words to speak to das about what happened. And as for Hiraya’s spirit, her sudden appearances only deepened his guilt. She had beco a ghostly tether to the past, her cryptic presence both a tornt and a guide.
Even now, as she flickered into view like a fragile fla, Morvane couldn’t help but wonder if she held the answers he sought—the path to uncovering her true killer.
The day wore on with a heavy stillness, but as the sun dipped below the horizon, Morvane found himself face-to-face with das.
"Tomorrow is the full moon," das began, his voice steady, "and it’s the Awakening Ceremony for this year. You should co with on stage."
Morvane raised a brow, unsure. "Is that... okay?"
das smirked faintly. "Of course. Every ruler stands with their right-hand man, you know."
Morvane hesitated but nodded. "Alright."
das continued, "The ceremony will be held in Crimson’s kingdom, Katakwan."
At the ntion of Crimson, a flicker of sothing unspoken crossed Morvane’s face. "I haven’t heard from him in months," he admitted. "Our training stopped three months ago."
"He’s been busy," das replied with a shrug. "Running a kingdom isn’t easy, even for soone like Crimson. But you’ll see him tomorrow."
For a mont, the room fell silent. Morvane stared at the floor, the weight of the past year pressing down on him again. das studied him but chose to say nothing more. Tomorrow would bring its own battles—of power, of pride, and perhaps of reconciliation.
Tomorrow arrived like an ominous whisper. The day of the Awakening Ceremony had co, and the anticipation was palpable. The sun hung high in the sky, casting its light over Katakwan, Crimson’s grand and formidable kingdom.
The arena was an architectural marvel, carved from black stone and adorned with ancient sigils of power. Thousands of people filled the benches, their chatter an electric hum of excitent. At the heart of the arena stood a circular platform where the ceremony would take place.
The fifteen-year-olds, chosen from all seven kingdoms, lined up at the edge of the platform. Each one bore a mixture of excitent and apprehension. This was their mont—the day that would define their futures.
One by one, the rulers of the seven kingdom made their entrances, each with their own flare and regal bearing. The crowd erupted into applause as they ascended to the raised stage overlooking the arena. das stood beside Morvane, who tried to maintain a calm exterior despite the tension in his chest.
Crimson, standing tall and imposing in his ceremonial armor, stepped forward to deliver the opening speech. His voice carried across the arena with practiced authority, addressing the gathered masses and the hopefuls waiting for their awakening. His words stirred both pride and expectation, his presence commanding absolute attention.
When the speech ended, the rulers stepped forward, forming a circle around the platform. They raised their hands and began to chant in unison. The words were ancient, their aning known only to the rulers themselves. As the chant echoed through the arena, the crowd fell silent, anticipation thick in the air.
At the chant’s conclusion, the fifteen-year-olds were called to step into the center of the arena. One by one, they moved forward, forming a tight cluster on the platform. All eyes turned to the sky as they waited for the light to descend and mark their shoulders, signifying their awakening.
But nothing happened. No light streaks. No marks. no awakening.
No one dared to make a noise as everyone waits form the light streaks to happen.
Minutes passed, and the sky remained still. No streaks of light, no sign of the awakening. The crowd shifted uneasily, whispering amongst themselves. Confusion rippled through the arena.
Crimson leaned toward das, his voice low but edged with concern. "This is unusual," he muttered.
The fifteen-year-olds exchanged nervous glances, their excitent giving way to confusion. Whispers grew louder among the crowd, and the rulers exchanged uncertain looks.
das finally stepped forward, his voice cutting through the murmurs. "Perhaps soone misspoke during the chant. We will do it again."
Crimson frowned, his tone firm. "That’s impossible. No one made a mistake."
Despite Crimson’s certainty, the rulers resud their positions and began the chant once more. The words echoed across the arena with renewed intensity, but the tension in the air was undeniable.
The chant ended. Silence fell.
Again, the sky remained unchanged. Minutes passed, but still, no light descended. The crowd’s whispers turned into murmurs of unease. The fifteen-year-olds shifted on their feet, their earlier confidence now replaced with doubt and quiet questions.
For the first ti in years, an eerie uncertainty lood over the Awakening Ceremony, and no one knew what it ant.
The arena, once filled with excited anticipation, now buzzed with confusion. The crowd’s murmur grew louder, punctuated by scattered voices demanding answers. A tense energy hung in the air, and every ruler on stage felt its weight.
Then, cutting through the noise, a loud voice from the benches bellowed, "What’s happening?"
The shout rippled through the crowd like a spark igniting dry wood. Others began calling out too, their voices filled with concern and frustration.
"Why isn’t the light coming?"
"Is sothing wrong with the ceremony?"
"Are they unworthy?"
Morvane stood frozen beside das, his gaze fixed on the group of fifteen-year-olds standing in the center of the arena. The young candidates, once brimming with hope, now shifted uncomfortably, their faces painted with confusion and fear.
This scene struck Morvane deeply. His chest tightened as mories of his own awakening surged forward. A year ago, he had stood where they stood now—waiting for the light, for the mark, for the affirmation that he had a purpose. And like them, he had been t with nothing but silence.
He clenched his fists at the thought. This can’t be happening again. Not to all of them.
His mind raced with questions. How could every single one of them be markless? Was this just a cruel coincidence? Or... was it sothing more sinister?
He thought of his own revelation, the power that had erged within him long after his failed awakening. Is it possible... that they’re all like ? The idea sent a chill down his spine. His eyes scanned the crowd, then flicked back to the young ones on the platform.
Did the demons touch them too?
"This can’t be," he muttered under his breath, the words barely audible.
das, standing beside him, caught the faint whisper. "What did you say?" he asked, his tone sharp but low, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
Morvane quickly shook his head, unwilling to voice his thoughts. "Nothing. It’s just... strange."
das didn’t press further but kept his attention fixed on the arena. His jaw tightened, his expression unreadable.
anwhile, Crimson stepped forward, raising a hand to silence the growing unrest among the spectators. His voice bood across the arena, calm yet commanding. "Silence!"
The crowd hushed, though a low murmur lingered.
Crimson turned to the rulers, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "This has never happened in the history of our kingdoms. The ceremony cannot fail. Sothing is interfering."
The rulers exchanged uneasy glances but offered no response. The arena remained tense, the atmosphere thick with unanswered questions.
The fifteen-year-olds, still standing in the center, looked more uncertain with each passing mont. So whispered among themselves, their voices trembling with confusion.
"Why isn’t it working?"
"Did we do sothing wrong?"
"What does this an for us?"
Morvane’s mind continued to churn, battling the gnawing fear growing in his chest. This isn’t normal. If they’re like ... if they’ve been touched by demons... He couldn’t finish the thought. The implications were too dire.
"This can’t be," he whispered again, this ti so quietly that even das didn’t catch it.
The ceremony was falling apart, and no one—ruler, crowd, or candidate—could make sense of it.
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