Seven stared at the man, his mind whirling with questions.
"Aisrin, I've told you this morning. Reflection is after the big ceremony. We can't have the first ever Seventh Tier miss his big moment right?" The man smiled, his words and demeanor looking warm. But, something felt amiss, like it was hiding something cold underneath.
"Ceremony? Seventh Tier? Aisrin? What does any of that mean?" Seven broke free of the old man , his breath sharp with reproach. The old man's face twisted with irritation. There was a cold ripple in the air upon the facial change.
"Insolence breeds disobedience, I will not have you mar a joyous day!" The man reached for Seven again, grabbing him firmly. Seven felt the throb of cold pain shoot through his arm as the old man squeezed roughly.
Through instinct, Seven grabbed the mans wrist and pressed the pressure point just before the palm, the grip only slightly loosened, as it wasn't a painful point, but rather the gathering of the tendons.
"Don't presume order over me, I don't even know who you are!" Seven ran towards the tower, the only sanctity he saw within immediate reach.
Seven's smaller frame, weaker muscles, prevented him from running as fast as he felt he should. It was a frustrating feeling, but within the body he felt an energy, one that coursed through him affectionately.
A wall of flame flocked his path, the sudden heat was chilling, in the sense of high temperature.
"What has gotten into you? You always listen to your grandfather, why is today different?" The old man scowled, his words dripped with a vehemence towards Seven's actions.
"Wha- what is this?" Seven was in awe and fear of the conjured flame.
"Hah, listen to me, Aisrin. I understand you must be afraid and excited all at once, but you must understand patience first." The old man approached Seven, every step felt like darkness encroaching upon him.
"I'm not Aisrin, I am Seven!" Seven shouted, but his statement felt less factual and more hopeful. Deep down, he began to question who he was. Was this a dream? Was this boy him or a memory stored in the tower?
"Seven? So is it not enough to hold pure mana, you must Crown yourself too?" The old man paused in his approach, his eyes held hostility blatantly now.
"Its my name, not a crown. I will not be held at a cosmic standard. I am my own!" Seven shouted, his pulse changing hues rapidly, from blue to violet to green to orange. The mana around him swirled, the wind fanned the wall of flames erratically, threatening to overwhelm.
"Wha- what are you?" The old man faltered, his eyes now reflected fear instead of authority.
"I am me, I am Seven, son of Steam." Seven stated with cold, hard certainty. The tower hummed with intensity, grounding Seven's statement in resolution. The world swirled, silence replaced the hum of machine and song of mana. He stared up at a familiar sky, his body was his own, his mind was sharper yet held questions about who, or what, he was.
"Seven?" Elvidia ran up and knelt beside Seven, the scent of decaying leaves on a meadow ground, accompanied by soft, damp soil enveloped Seven tenderly.
"Yes." Seven answered plainly, confirming his name.
"Are you alright? You collapsed before you even entered the tower, there was a barrier and no one could approach you with out mana's permission." Sirens' input came from just behind Elvidia.
"Did I even make it to the tower?" Seven sat up slowly, nothing felt wrong, but there was a stronger presence within him.
"No, you crossed the water and went limp." Elvidia replied simply, with a look of worry yet triumphant.
"Then my trial isn't over, correct?" Seven rose to his feet, his sense of purpose deepening.
"Perhaps this is enough? You faced something, even mana prevented outside interference." Elvidia hurriedly tried to dissuade Seven further.
"That was that, this is this. They are not the same. You told me I had to complete these trials, I am simply following those instructions." Seven stepped forward, his gaze never leaving the cold, lifeless entrance to the tower.
"Seve—"
"He is following his own path. Your views are the shadows to his. The same, but from different perspectives." Siren stopped Elvidia's statement before it could be protested. Elvidia looked as if she wanted to argue it, but reluctantly surrendered.
Seven walked through the dark entrance, the slight breeze turned still. A light metallic groaning could be heard echoing faintly within the hallow tower. In front of Seven was a simple orb, made with rusted metal and dull crystal in union.
Seven placed his hand on the orb, but the orb remained as silent as the air inside.
"No? Is it something else I'm supposed to do?" Seven mumbled to himself. It was then, that something inside of Seven answered, a roar of raw emotion welled up within him. The number on his arm began to glow, shifting colors, reds, pinks, blues, oranges, greens. The tendrils flowed towards the tips of his fingers, heading directly for the orb.