Without wasting a second, Yinoh and I rushed home after school.
We each had to prepare, to look presentable, at the very least.
After I had changed my clothes, I stood in front of my desk, staring at a crumpled piece of paper—my Whispering Rite. It was barely readable from all the crossed-out lines and rewrites.
"Name of the Self – Hasphien Maxence."
"Unveiling of the Soul – I fear I will not be useful in any way."
"Vow of Use – I vow…"
Still blank.
I sighed.
"Forget it. I'll just say whatever comes to mind later." I folded the paper and hid it in my pocket.
I heard the door click shut downstairs. Hesitating, I stepped out of my room to greet him.
"Hey, son," Dad called from the kitchen. "You ready for tonight?"
"Uh… yeah," I replied, though the tightness in my chest and the flicker of doubt in my voice gave me away.
"Why? What's wrong?"
I froze.
Then lied. "Nothing."
Footsteps. Then warmth. He walked towards me and wrapped me in a quiet hug.
"You don't have to worry," he said gently, voice steady. "As long as you know what your purpose is."
Purpose...
That was exactly the part I didn't know.
Dad's arms tightened slightly before he let go. He patted both my shoulders with steady hands—hands that spent years in sterile labs, handling delicate instruments, hands that always found a way to support me, no matter how tired they were.
He smiled.
"Go now. Get to the plaza early and find a good spot."
The plaza was already glowing, though moving through it wasn't easy. Crowds jostled and shifted around me—families navigating strollers, vendors balancing trays of treats, children darting between legs and brushing past my shoulders. A sudden clatter of dropped charms made me flinch, and a soft chorus of whispered apologies rippled through the space.
As I move forward, I notice the bioluminescent drone-lanterns hover gently overhead, their warm light dancing like stars against the dusk-tinted sky.
Thousands had gathered—young and old, dressed in their best clothes. The air buzzed with quiet hope, carrying the faint scent of dusk and the cool, crisp bite of night. Some whispered heartfelt wishes into charms. Others stood hand-in-hand beneath flowering trees. Many knelt on the pathways, eyes closed, breathing in the moment.
It was beautiful… and terrifying.
"There you are!"
A familiar arm hooked around my shoulder.
Yinoh.
He grinned. "I found us a good spot. Come on."
He led me through the crowd to a spot beneath a stone arch, where solar-fed vines glowed softly along the pillars. The Moon hung perfectly in view, serene and luminous.
We sat. We waited.
A clear, metallic chime rang across the plaza—the signal that the Moon had reached its zenith. The sound rippled through the crowd, soft but undeniable, sending a shiver of anticipation through everyone present.
And then—
A single beam of silver light split the heavens. Murmurs rippled through the plaza. The Celestial Weave was beginning.
One by one, the lights around us dimmed, surrendering to the moon's glow. A gentle pulse—like the heartbeat of the world—spread from the plaza's center, thrumming beneath our feet.
A sacred stillness fell over us, soft as snowfall.
The mana thickened, heavy and viscous, saturating the air, filling my lungs like liquid fire. Every inhale sparked across my nerves, every exhale felt too small, too shallow. It was electricity and stardust and pressure all at once, humming beneath my skin, setting every hair on my arms trembling.
My heart hammered so loudly I could hear it in my ears; each beat was a drum insisting I notice every second.
Thoughts scattered, jagged and sharp as shards of moonlight.
Am I ready? What if I fail?
My palms sweated on my knees. Fingers twitched. My tongue felt glued to the roof of my mouth. Breath caught, then surged, then stuck again.
Why can't I speak? Why won't the words come?
Around me, the crowd murmured prayers, whispers colliding in a low hum. Every voice felt like it pressed closer, expectant and patient, mocking in its calm. The night air itself was heavy with starlight and possibility, and it crushed me all at once.
Every nerve in my body screamed. My chest tightened, lungs straining for air, heartbeat thundering like it wanted out. My knees trembled against the cold stone. My throat closed in on itself, shrinking, locking, refusing.
I can't… I can't.
I swallowed hard and forced the words up anyway—shaky, fragile.
Name of the Self…
Hasphien Maxence.
Unveiling of the Soul...
I fear I won't be… useful.
Vow of Use...
I...
My throat tightened. My tongue went dry. Heat crawled up my neck, and my fingers trembled against my knees. I opened my mouth—once, twice—but the words wouldn't form. The air felt too thick, my chest too tight, the sky too far away.
Nothing came out.
My mind went blank.
The words twisted in my throat, refusing to form.
What do I vow?
To protect? It sounds empty.
To grow stronger? That's just for me.
To bring Mom back? That's not even possible.
Each time I breathe was shallow and uneven. My hands clenched lightly in my lap, fingers digging into the rough stone beneath me. A memory flickered—me, cornered in a dim alley years ago, laughter ringing as bigger kids shoved me against cold bricks. I had nothing to fight back with, nothing to defend myself.
Powerless. I can't be like that again, the fear coiled tight in my stomach.
I shifted on my knees, trying to push the memory away, but it clung. My pulse hammered in my ears, drowning out the soft hum of the plaza around me—the whispered charms, the murmur of hopes, the thrum of anticipation. I could feel the uneven stones beneath my knees, cold and hard, grounding me in the moment even as panic clawed upward.
Say something. Anything.
But my lips felt heavy, as if the air itself resisted my vow. Words I wanted—needed—to speak vanished into the moonlit silence.
Everyone else had said their vows by now. The silence pressed in.
My hands trembled as I stayed kneeling, unsure—
Desperate to speak, but terrified of saying the wrong thing.
Around me, the air began to change.
It hummed—soft and reverent—as if the wind itself held its breath.
I felt warmth ripple through the air, a gentle thrum passing from person to person like a quiet spark.
Gasps echoed nearby—soft, awed, overwhelmed.
Someone sobbed. Another laughed under their breath.
The blessings were falling.
The Arkan had begun to choose.
I stayed motionless—eyes shut, lips parted, but silent.
I felt it happening all around me.
I stole a glance at the crowd, my eyes widening as the transformation began.
One by one, people were being chosen—called by fate, wrapped in light.
But not me.
I scanned the faces around me, searching for a spark of my own. The plaza was alive with radiance.
Light danced in waves, weaving into the bodies of the selected—a grizzled veteran, a young girl, even a merchant from the stalls. Chosen. Lifted. Changed.
And I remained... Silent. Empty. Waiting for words that refused to exist.
Beside me, Yinoh's eyes were shut tight, his brow furrowed in a prayer of unwavering focus. His voice was a mere vibration in the air, but the intensity was a physical weight. He knew what he wanted. Even if it was as simple as a skewer seller, he had a direction.
All around us, the plaza was a forest of starlight. Dozens were already pulled into their new lives. Except me.
I shut my eyes again.
Say something… Anything.
But my mind was a blank slate. Minutes slipped past like water through trembling hands, each second stretching, thinning, until the air felt brittle.
Then, the silver glow of the moon began to dim. The plaza lights flickered back to life, their artificial yellow a harsh insult to the fading magic. The air grew heavy. Final.
And then—a spark.
A faint light bloomed beside me.
Yinoh.
Brilliant threadlight wrapped around him like liquid starlight, soft and serene. It didn't surprise me. He's always been that way—steady, grounded, deserving.
His eyes fluttered open as the warmth sank into his skin, sealing his fate.
He looked at me, his face glowing with a new, divine radiance. I tried to smile, but it felt like a mask made of lead.
His smile slowly died as he saw me still kneeling in the shadow. He said nothing. He didn't have to. The darkness around my shoulders spoke for itself.
As the last strands of moonlight drifted back into the sky, I stayed exactly as I was. Unchanged.
I didn't just fail. It was worse. I realized I had come to the Celestial Weave with nothing but a hollow chest.
What kind of fool kneels before the sky with nothing to offer but doubt?
The Arkan hadn't missed me.
It had seen me—and found nothing worth taking.