The grand hall of the House of Thorne, a place steeped in ancient reverence and unbroken tradition, stood alive with murmurs and flickers of anticipation.
This was the heart of the Vaelthorne Sect, and on this day, as it had been for countless generations, its soaring columns and rune-etched walls bore witness to a moment held sacred above all others—the Awakening Ceremony.
It was the day when the young, having crossed the threshold of their sixteenth year, would stand before the ancestral sigils and be judged by fate itself. It was the day they would receive—or be denied—the gift of cultivation.
Each year, the ceremony called forth the bloodlines of the great Houses to present their heirs and scions before the sect's elders.
And each year, those who were chosen walked forward with equal parts pride and fear, knowing that the outcome would either set their destiny ablaze—or cast them into shadow.
The gathering was always solemn, always grand. But this year, the hall pulsed with a different kind of energy.
The numbers were greater than usual, with more participants than in recent memory. But the real reason the hall thrummed with hushed excitement lay not in quantity—but in lineage.
For among those stepping forward this year was a child of the Head House itself, the direct descendant of Lord Kaelith Thorne, the ruling master of the Vaelthorne Sect.
A man renowned for his rare and powerful lightning cultivation, Lord Kaelith had long stood as an embodiment of strength, tradition, and command. It was only natural that expectations for his child soared above the others.
"Did you hear? Lord Thorne's offspring shall partake in the ceremony this year," one whispered to another.
"Yes, I did. That's why the grand hall is filled up today. We are expecting a lot from him, as we did with Lord Thorne."
The murmurs and whispers were loud enough for everyone to hear, including Ralph, who stood in a corner in the grand hall while his mates were preparing for the ceremony.
While the other young initiates bustled about, adjusting their ceremonial robes or exchanging last-minute nervous jokes to keep their anxiety at bay, Ralph remained still, cloaked not just in fabric but in a silence that isolated him from the rest.
His expression was unreadable, yet his shoulders bore a quiet tension. His thoughts churned, restless and shadowed. The air around him seemed to thicken with self-doubt, each breath slower than the last.
Despite the ornate splendor of the hall and the occasion's magnitude, Ralph could not shake the oppressive cloud of unease pressing down on him. The tradition he was about to take part in—one celebrated for centuries and held with reverence—felt less like a rite of passage and more like a looming judgment. He knew too well what everyone expected.
His name had been whispered with pride for years. As the son of Lord Kaelith Thorne, the head of the House of Thorne, and a child of the Vaelthorne Sect's most respected bloodline, the expectations were insurmountable.
'What if I don't awaken any of the cultivations?' he murmured to himself as he heard his heart pounding deep inside his chest with each passing minute.
'At this point I wouldn't even mind the lowest cultivation. I just want to awaken something, anything at all.'
A hush fell over the gathered crowd the instant the herald announced his arrival—Lord Kaelith Thorne, patriarch of the House of Thorne and sovereign voice within the Vaelthorne Sect.
With measured, deliberate steps, Lord Kaelith crossed the threshold, his presence alone commanding silence. One by one, every individual present rose to their feet in unified reverence, a practiced gesture of deference drilled into them by generations of custom.
He strode forward without pause, flanked by a quiet entourage, until he reached the throne at the heart of the dais—an ornate seat carved from obsidian and veined marble, untouched by time.
The moment he lowered himself onto it, the gathered assembly followed suit, sitting once more in respectful silence. Around him, the leaders of each noble house took their assigned places, forming a semi-circle of solemn faces and polished regalia.
From across the room, Ralph's gaze locked with his father's—just for a heartbeat. That single moment of eye contact sent a jolt through him, as though a weight had settled on his chest.
He looked away almost instantly, his feet already turning him toward the corridor at the side of the hall. Without waiting for further cue, he slipped out through the arched doorway, his steps quickening as he made for the chamber where he was expected to prepare for the ceremony that would soon begin.
He knew the kind of man his father was. He wasn't the type to have sentimental values just because Ralph was his son. He was the type to uphold the family's traditions regardless of whoever it was—and that's what scared him about his father the most.
Within minutes of getting to his assigned chamber, he got the word that they were all being summoned for the ceremony.
He pressed a hand on his chest as he took deep breaths before taking his leave toward the grand hall.
He met up with the queue and stood in his appointed position as they waited for their names to be called.
A few minutes later, they were all called into the hall, every eye watching as they entered one by one.
"Is that the son of Lord Kaelith?"
Whispers began as soon as he stepped foot through the grand doors.
"Let's see if his bloodline will follow in his footsteps or not. This is our chance to pick out reasons why he shouldn't be the leader of the Head House in the next election."
Sweat trickled down his face as he overheard the whispers, each one making him more and more nervous.
They took their seats on the front row, which was specially prepared for them as aspirants.
They began calling names one by one, saving his for last as he was the main man of the occasion.
"Lady Indigo of the Brierwood House, please step forward," the priest assigned to the ceremony called out.
A young female, dressed in an ornate blue outfit, stepped forward and climbed the altar.
"The trial is quite simple. You just have to place your hands on the stone sigil in the middle, which connects all elements, and your assigned element will immediately answer to you."
She nodded and stepped close to the stone sigils that pulsed with different colors, each signifying its element. Like red is to fire, blue is to water, green is to earth, and so on...
She placed her hand on the sigil as instructed by the priest and waited.
Normally, the trial never lasted more than forty-five seconds per aspirant—swift and efficient. But today was different.
Each candidate was granted a full minute—an unspoken courtesy extended solely because of Ralph's inclusion in the ceremony.
Seconds passed as they all waited for the sigil to react to her calling, but there was no effect whatsoever.
A full minute had gone by, and she was called back to her seat—and that's when the unexpected happened.
A green energy sprouted from one of the sigils, drawing her back to the spot. Her body released a glowing green light as her hands touched the sigil, and everyone gasped in shock.
It was never believed to come after a full minute—this was the first ever exception that had occurred since a century.
"Lady Indigo of the Brierwood House has awakened the Earth cultivation!" the priest announced with joy.
Everyone immediately stood up on their feet, clapping as she walked back to her seat.
'Maybe, I might just be lucky enough to awaken an ability after all.'