The great hall of the Humarite wing was alive with chatter, its vaulted ceilings ringing with the echoes of hundreds of voices, some excited, some nervous, most uneasy. Light streamed down in pale shafts through tall glass windows, washing over banners that once represented pride and heritage. Now, under the scrutiny of the human scientists who had taken control of the ceremony, the banners looked more like relics in a museum...objects without life, stripped of their original meaning.
From above, behind reinforced glass panels, the human students gathered like spectators in an arena. Some leaned forward with mocking grins, whispering and laughing at every misstep, every awkward flinch of a Humarite child below. Others looked bored, as though this moment , which was the most defining in a young Humarite's life....was no more entertaining than a stage play.
Starling sat rigid in his chair among the sea of his peers. His wings twitched and puffed out involuntarily, betraying the tension in his chest. The feathers shook with a faint tremor he couldn't control, no matter how hard he tried to press them down. His stomach twisted tighter with every announcement of bloodline and Null ability.
One after another, names were called. One after another, the tests revealed destinies.
"X-bloodline. Flame Null. Potential average."
"Y-bloodline. Cloud weave Null. High potential."
"XT-bloodline. Kinetic null. Exceptional potential."
Cheers, groans, laughter, indifference.
Each announcement was met with some ripple of reaction from above. The human students clapped mockingly at the weak results, booed when one of their favorites stumbled, laughed aloud at tears. Down below, the Humarite officials stood frozen. Not one dared step forward. Their silence said it all: they were powerless under the watchful gaze of the human overseers in suits, arms folded, eyes sharp as blades.
Starling felt like a bird trapped in a glass cage on display, judged, stripped bare.
Beside him, Riven leaned down, voice low and steady. "Hey. Don't overthink it." His grin was small but fierce, the kind of grin that dared the world to try and break him. "Whatever happens, we're in this together. Weak bloodline, strong bloodline, doesn't matter. You've got me. Always."
Starling swallowed hard, nodding, though the tightness in his throat made it hard to breathe. Riven's words had always been like that anchors when the tide threatened to pull him under.
"Riven Dhal."
His name was called, and Starling's wings fluttered instinctively. He looked up at his friend, who smirked and squeezed his shoulder before stepping forward.
The scientists swarmed with sterile precision, the machine humming to life as it scanned his blood and resonance. The screen flashed, results appearing in sharp letters.
"Bloodline: Y."
"Null ability: Gravital Pulse."
"Potential: High."
The humans above gasped, then murmured in approval. Even the scientists broke their cold demeanor, sharing subtle nods of respect. A rare smile tugged at the lead examiner's lips.
"A strong candidate," one of them muttered, scribbling notes.
Riven only grinned wider, lifting his chin with pride before striding back. Starling's wings flapped once, betraying his joy, before he clapped quietly.
"See?" Riven whispered as he dropped back into his seat. "You'll get something just as good. Maybe better."
Starling smiled weakly. He wanted to believe it. He needed to.
But when his name was called, the room seemed to tilt.
"Starling."
His legs felt like stone as he walked to the platform. Every step was heavier than the last, the mocking laughter of human students above already buzzing in his ears. His wings shook uncontrollably now, puffing out in nervous defiance.
The machine whirred, slower this time, as though hesitant. The scientists frowned. They tapped the side of the console, recalibrating. Seconds dragged into minutes. The silence grew unbearable.
Finally, the screen flashed.
"Bloodline: T."
"Null ability: Common Flight."
"Potential: Minimal."
For a moment, no one moved. The words hung heavy in the hall, too sharp, too cruel. Then, like a wave, the laughter broke out.
From above, the human students roared with mockery.
"Pathetic!"
"He's just a bird!"
"Lowest bloodline, what a joke!"
Starling's feathers bristled, his wings trembling violently. His throat closed. His eyes burned. He looked down, unable to meet the gaze of anyone in the hall.
T. The lowest bloodline. Barely above nothing. A label worse than failure...insignificant.
Tears welled in his eyes before he could stop them, spilling hot down his cheeks.
"Starling…" Riven's voice cracked. His face was pale, his fists clenched tight.
The scientists didn't pause. They turned, addressing the crowd with cold detachment, as though announcing lab results.
"Bloodline classifications will now determine training assignments. X, Y, and XT bloodlines will continue into specialized Humarite combat and Null development programs. T bloodlines…" The lead scientist's lip curled faintly. "…will be placed into general human classes. Their abilities do not warrant further study."
The words hit harder than any blow.
"Separated?" Starling whispered. Alone? Without Riven? His chest hollowed, his wings drooping.
Riven surged forward, ignoring the glares of officials. "No. He's with me. He belongs with us!"
The lead scientist raised an eyebrow. "And why does a Y-bloodline speak out of turn?"
The room stiffened. The Humarite officials flinched but said nothing.
Riven's fists shook. Rage burned in his chest. "Because this is wrong. Because he's more than your numbers, more than your-"
Starling's trembling hand caught his sleeve, pulling him back. His voice was barely a whisper, choked with tears. "Please, Riven… let's just go."
The fight drained from Riven at the sight of him. He bit down hard on his fury, swallowing it like poison. With shaking arms, he lifted Starling, carrying him away from the jeers, the laughter, the indifference.
The scientists barely glanced at them. The humans above shouted after them, spitting insults through the glass.
As they left, Riven turned once, his glare sweeping across the silent faces of the Humarite students who hadn't moved, hadn't spoken, hadn't stood up. His voice cut like broken glass.
"Pathetic. All of you."
Starling's tears dampened his shirt as he tightened his hold, his friend already drifting into exhausted sleep.
Riven tucked back the stray strands of his hair, heart pounding with rage and helplessness.
He cursed his Y-bloodline. He cursed the humans who laughed. He cursed a world that dared to break someone so gentle, so kind, and call it justice.
And deep in his chest, a vow was born.
What would it take for them to see?
What would it take to make them understand they were equals?
What would it take to tear this fragile order down?