Chapter 14: The Spark of Essence
Flipping to the next page, Ravi's eyes paused.
There were two known paths to awaken one's Essence Aspect. Both, however, demand sufficient Essence Talent. The first was the natural awakening, which occurs anytime between early adolescence and the late teen years. The second is induced awakening—a method restricted to children aged six to eight and triggered through specific essence techniques.
Ravi's thoughts drifted to his sister.
Zaara had not only awakened early, but she now carried two Aspects. The first—her true one—was Ghost Monarch, still dormant and hidden beneath layer of secrecy. The second, Icy Crystalline Neblina, was never meant to become a permanent aspect. It was an artificial essence meant only to veil her true nature. And yet … somehow, it had fused within her.
He remembered the moment she instinctively used her real aspect to transform the chimera toy into a monstrous guardian. It had been only a glimpse—but enough to hint at the dormant power of the Ghost Monarch.
Shaking the memory, Ravi turned the page.
The essence core developed inside the brain, generating essence that flowed through the nervous system. Essence Weilders could manipulate this energy in two primary ways: enhancing their own physical capabilities or projecting essence outward through Essence Techniques. While ordinary people could perform basic essence techniques, only those with true Essence Talent could wield mystical or advanced essence techniques.
Waker leaned over Ravi's shoulder, curiosity in his eyes. His empty tea cup clinked lightly as he set it aside. Ravi, eyes still on the book, flipped to the next section.
Aspects are categorized broadly into two types: Ability-Type and Weapon-Type. The former grants unique powers—like invisibility, manipulation of an element, or conjuring illusions e.t.c. The latter allows manifestation of weapons that possess unique properties bound to the user's essence.
Ravi thought of the Blood Empire of Vyrm, where weapon-type aspects were most prevalent. A fleeting image crossed his mind—a white-and red-haired girl, her outline softened by memory. He sighed quietly.
"Don't worry," Waker said with forced cheer. "The old man won't throw you out even if you mess up on the exam. But you'll be stuck in extra classes for weeks. Trust me."
He groaned, clearly recalling his own misadventure with the test. "Didn't study. Blew it. Thought I could guess my way through. Wrong move."
Ravi laughed quietly. His gaze returned to the book.
Suddenly, the call to prayer—the Azan—rang through the air. Inside the Guild, a deep silence followed. Conversations ceased, chairs stilled, and heads lowered in reverence. Spoons and mugs were set down. Everyone listened with quiet reverence.
When it ended, they raised their hands in supplication, reciting the dua of Azan.
After the final word of the call, the entire guild stood. Without hesitation, the men and boys began making their way to the masjid. Even the storm outside couldn't keep them from the evening prayer.
Candles burned steadily in every corner of the guild, their soft light reflecting off windows streaked with rain.
Candles burned steadily in corners of the streets and stairs, casting warm, dancing shadows in storm.
Ravi and Waker chatted amiably as they ascended the stairs to offer Maghrib at the nearby masjid.
Elsewhere, back at home, Zirak leaned back in his wooden chair.
He hadn't eaten his fill—mainly because Zaara had consumed nearly everything on the table. She ate with the appetite of three people, her plate nearly licked clean.
But Zirak wasn't annoyed. He knew what it meant. Zaara's appetite was a result of her awakening. And more importantly, of her developing two Aspects—something few in history had ever accomplished.
Her brother had left without warning, without even telling her the truth. She hid the hurt well behind her bright expressions, but Zirak could feel it.
When she had asked about Ravi's disappearance, he'd feigned ignorance. He couldn't bring himself to explain.
"Zaara," he said softly, voice gentle. "Do you want to join the Essence Wielder Class, or would you prefer the ordinary class?"
Zaara didn't hesitate, her response was immediate. "Of course, the Essence Wielder Class! I want to be strong—just like Brother, like Father, and you. Look!"
She raised her small, food-smudged hand. Tiny, diamond-shaped ice crystals floated above her palm, shrouded in a gentle mist. The air around them turned crisp and serene.
Zirak blinked slowly. 'Monsters,' he thought. 'My friend, all your children are monsters!'
Still, he couldn't help but smile. Then his thoughts drifted to Ravi again. Doubt gnawed at him.
Ravi's situation was dire. Even now, Zirak didn't know whether to believe his innocence. He wanted to—he desperately wanted to—but the presence of the Dark Sigil still clung like a stain in his memory.
The burst-eye mark was more than just a brand of curse. It was a plague, a living disease. If the bearer lost emotional control, they risked madness, or worse—becoming a monster, a corpse ruled by essence corruption.
Worse still, the mark acted like a beacon, drawing in phantoms, devourers, and accursed beings.
Once a bearer lost control … their body would rot while still alive, transforming into something grotesque. And worse—contagious.
This curse was contracted by consuming the flesh of a previous bearer. And that knowledge raised a terrifying question: Was the Ravi who returned truly the same one?
Zirak glanced at Zaara, who giggled as she played with her icy crystals.
He had raised her like his own daughter. He had made a vow before the Ghost Monarch himself.
He would protect her with his life. And that's exactly what he would do.