The days leading up to the Festival of Awakening were a blur of intense training and quiet contemplation. Ren threw himself into preparing for the festival. He spent hours by the river, trying to connect with the water, to feel the magic the serpent had spoken of. He spoke to Shiro, encouraging him, willing him to respond. He tried to see the dormant power the serpent had described, but Shiro remained stubbornly ordinary.
The other boys in the village noticed the change in Ren. He was always a quiet boy, but now he was even more withdrawn, his eyes fixed on some distant point only he could see. They whispered among themselves, speculating about what had gotten into him. Some said he'd finally cracked under the pressure of being the only one without a strong beast. Others, who had seen him by the river, spoke of strange lights and whispers carried on the wind.
Ren ignored them. He had a purpose now, a goal. He would not fail.
The night of the festival arrived with a sky full of stars and a moon so bright it turned the river to liquid silver. The village square was transformed. Lanterns glowed, casting long shadows, and the air thrummed with nervous excitement. Boys his age, their beasts at their sides, gathered in the center of the square. Ren recognized some of them—boys who had teased him, boys who had pitied him. Now, they looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and something else... something Ren couldn't quite place.
He stood a little apart from the others, Shiro coiled around his wrist, its small body tense. He could feel the snake's anxiety, a mirror of his own. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and focused on the red mark on his hand. He remembered the serpent's words: "Accept the mark. Accept the bond."
The village elder stepped forward, his voice booming across the square. "Tonight, we honor the ancient covenant. Tonight, we test the bonds between boy and beast. May the spirits of the land guide you. May your potential be revealed."
The first boy stepped forward. His beast, a massive boar with tusks that gleamed in the moonlight, snorted and pawed the ground. The crowd cheered as the boy and his beast moved to the center of the square. The test began—a series of challenges designed to test the strength, speed, and magical connection between boy and beast.
Ren watched, his heart pounding. Each successful challenge was met with cheers and applause. Each failure, though rare, was met with a respectful silence. He saw beasts that could breathe fire, beasts that could move with the speed of the wind, beasts that could call upon the very earth to defend them.
And then it was his turn.
He stepped forward, the red mark on his hand burning like fire. Shiro tensed, its tiny body trembling. The crowd was silent, waiting. He could feel their eyes on him, some curious, some mocking. He ignored them.
"Ren," the elder said, his voice echoing in the sudden quiet. "You and your beast, step forward."
He did. He walked to the center of the square, the moonlight catching the scales of his small snake. He could feel the weight of their expectations, the doubt in their eyes. But he also felt something else—a flicker of hope, a spark of defiance.
"We are ready," he said, his voice stronger than he thought possible.
The first challenge was strength—a test of brute force. The other boys had beasts that could lift boulders, shatter stone. Shiro could barely lift its own head. Ren looked at his small snake, then at the boulder before him. He closed his eyes, remembering the serpent's words: "Your doubt is its cage."
He reached out, placed his hand on the boulder, and for the first time, he didn't feel doubt. He felt a connection, a flow of energy between himself and Shiro. It wasn't the snake's strength he felt, but his own, amplified, focused.
He lifted the boulder. Not with the raw power of a boar or a bear, but with a smooth, controlled force that surprised even him. The crowd gasped. He glanced at Shiro, and for a moment, he thought he saw a flicker of golden light in the snake's eyes.
The next challenge was speed. He and Shiro moved as one, not with the speed of a cheetah or a hawk, but with a fluid, weaving motion, like water flowing around obstacles. The crowd murmured in surprise.
The final challenge was magic—the most difficult of all. It was a test of the bond between boy and beast, a test of their ability to call upon the spirits of the land. Ren stood before the ancient stone, his heart pounding. He looked at Shiro, and for the first time, he saw not a weak snake, but a partner.
He closed his eyes, reached out with his mind, and felt the river. He felt its flow, its power, its ancient magic. And then, he shared that feeling with Shiro.
The small snake shimmered, its scales catching the moonlight. The red mark on Ren's hand glowed, and a column of water rose from the river, arcing over the square, a miniature version of the serpent he had seen. The crowd was silent, awestruck.
Ren opened his eyes, and for the first time, he understood. It wasn't about strength or speed or magic. It was about potential. His potential. Shiro's potential. Their potential together.
He had passed the test. He had accepted the mark. He had accepted the bond. And in doing so, he had awakened something more.
The festival continued, but Ren didn't see it. He was lost in the feeling of connection, the flow of magic, the sense of belonging. He was no longer just a farmer. He was a Child of the Serpent's Mark. And his journey had just begun.