Soma Locke woke on his fifteenth birthday to the unmistakable sound of someone trying to murder a chicken.
At least, that was his first assumption.
The second was that Sean had finally lost whatever remained of his mind.
"RISE AND SHINE, YOUR HIGHNESS!"
An atrocious trumpet blast erupted outside his bedroom door.
Soma opened one eye.
Another blast followed.
Somewhere in the corridor, a woman screamed.
Then came the unmistakable sound of metal striking stone.
"SEAN!" Sara shouted. "PUT THAT THING DOWN!"
Soma stared at the ceiling.
Fifteen years.
I've survived monsters, assassins, a kidnapping attempt, and eleven years of Igor's charming personality.
And this is how I die.
The door flew open.
Sean stood in the entrance wearing an absurdly ornate ceremonial jacket, holding a badly dented trumpet.
Behind him, Sara looked prepared to commit murder.
"Happy birthday, little brother!"
Soma pulled a pillow over his face.
"Go away."
"Come now! Is that any way to greet your favorite brother?"
"Stephan isn't here."
Sara burst out laughing.
Sean clutched his chest.
"Wounded! Betrayed by my own flesh and blood!"
"Tragic," Soma murmured.
Sean lifted the trumpet again.
Soma sat upright.
"Blow that thing one more time, and I'll demonstrate how effectively a person can breathe through their arse."
Sara doubled over.
Sean slowly lowered the instrument.
"Well. Someone woke up violent."
"Someone woke me up with a dying farm animal."
"It's a trumpet!"
"Then someone should apologize to the inventor."
By the time Soma reached the training grounds, the sun was beginning to rise above Highmere.
He had completed his usual morning run, though Igor had reluctantly agreed to shorten the conditioning session in honor of the occasion.
The old veteran stood beside the weapon racks, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
"Fifteen."
Soma nodded.
"Fifteen."
"Gods help us."
"Such heartfelt congratulations."
Igor folded his arms.
"Five years ago, you were a little shit with a wooden sword."
"And now?"
"You're a bigger little shit with a sharper sword."
Soma grinned.
"Beautiful. I might have that engraved on my tombstone."
"Keep talking and I'll arrange one."
Jaspar approached from the eastern end of the courtyard, carrying a small wooden case beneath one arm.
Kara followed with a steaming mug of coffee.
"Morning, birthday boy," she called.
"Good morning, Master Kara."
"Feeling old?"
"Ancient. My joints ache, my back hurts, and I'm beginning to understand why Igor complains so much."
Igor pointed at him.
"Careful, brat."
Jaspar set the wooden case on a nearby bench.
"Your father has given you the day off."
Soma blinked.
"The entire day?"
"Apparently."
"That's suspicious."
Kara smirked.
"Maybe the poor bastard finally decided you deserve a break."
"Or perhaps he's planning something."
Jaspar raised an eyebrow.
"You're becoming paranoid."
Soma stared at him.
"You've spent five years teaching me to question everything."
"And you've spent five years being an irritating little bastard. We all have our burdens."
Igor laughed.
Soma folded his arms.
"Remarkable. Three mentors, and not one emotionally stable adult among them."
Kara nearly spilled her coffee.
After breakfast, Soma left Locke Manor with Samantha and Jaspar accompanying him.
The city was alive with preparations for the upcoming monthly Awakening Ceremony. Merchants decorated their storefronts with colorful ribbons, families crowded the streets, and travelers from across Arcaelis filled the inns surrounding the commercial districts.
Every month, children who had reached fifteen gathered in Highmere to undergo the ceremony.
For most, it represented the first real opportunity to discover what kind of future awaited them.
For Soma, it represented something he'd spent nearly his entire life preparing for.
He glanced toward the distant Citadel.
Soon.
Very soon.
But today, he intended to enjoy himself.
Their first stop was the outer market.
Soma had barely stepped from the carriage before someone shouted his name.
"THE CROWNLESS DAWN!"
He closed his eyes.
"Oh, here we go."
A group of merchants waved from beneath a bright-blue awning.
Several children came running toward him, laughing and calling his nickname.
An elderly woman approached carrying a basket of fresh bread.
"Happy birthday, young lord!"
Soma blinked.
"How did you know?"
She smiled.
"Oh, everyone knows."
Soma slowly turned toward Samantha.
She looked suspiciously innocent.
"Sam."
"Yes?"
"What have you done?"
"Nothing."
"That answer was far too quick."
Jaspar folded his arms.
"Maybe people just like you, boy."
Soma stared.
"That's a troubling possibility."
The celebration followed him through the market.
A baker presented him with a small honey cake.
A blacksmith he'd helped during the previous winter offered him a beautifully crafted whetstone.
Children handed him drawings, handmade charms, and one particularly enthusiastic wooden sculpture that appeared to depict a dragon wrestling a potato.
Soma accepted every gift with the same sincerity.
He remembered many of their names.
Asked after their families.
And spent considerably more time talking than Samantha had planned.
At one stall, a young mother approached carrying a little boy on her hip.
"Young Lord Soma?"
He turned.
"Yes?"
"My husband was on the supply convoy you helped protect last spring."
Soma studied her face.
Then recognized the family name.
"Thomas?"
She smiled.
"Yes."
"How is he?"
"Recovering well. He's working again."
Soma exhaled.
"I'm glad."
The woman hesitated.
"He's told our son about you."
The little boy stared at Soma with enormous eyes.
Soma crouched.
"Hello there."
The child whispered something into his mother's ear.
She laughed.
"He wants to know if you're really a hero."
Soma considered the question.
Then smiled.
"No."
The boy frowned.
"Why not?"
"Because I know plenty of people much braver than me."
He gestured toward Jaspar.
"That grumpy-looking fellow, for example."
Jaspar narrowed his eyes.
"Watch it."
"And the woman beside him could probably throw both of us through a wall."
Samantha smiled sweetly.
"Only if necessary."
The little boy giggled.
Soma leaned closer.
"Heroes aren't always the people carrying swords. Sometimes they're the ones who help others when it's difficult."
The child's expression grew thoughtful.
Soma stood.
Then the boy held out his hand.
Inside rested a tiny wooden sunrise.
"For you."
Soma accepted it carefully.
"Thank you."
The boy beamed.
And for a moment, Soma forgot entirely about the coming Awakening.
By afternoon, the market had grown increasingly crowded.
Soma spent time browsing bookshops, examining unfamiliar equipment, and speaking with merchants about recent trade developments.
He purchased several illustrated novels for Serena, a finely crafted writing set for Sara, and a small mechanical puzzle that he suspected would keep Sean occupied for approximately six minutes before the inevitable explosion.
Jaspar watched him examine the device.
"What's that?"
"A puzzle."
"Looks expensive."
"It was."
"What's it do?"
"Apparently, if assembled incorrectly, it releases a cloud of harmless blue powder."
Jaspar stared.
Soma smiled.
"I'm going to tell Sean it's a priceless artifact from the royal treasury."
For several seconds, the captain simply looked at him.
Then he began laughing.
"You're a malicious little bastard."
"Years of excellent mentorship."
Samantha sighed.
"I am not cleaning that up."
"Of course not."
"Nor am I explaining it to your mother."
"Naturally."
"Or helping you escape when Sean retaliates."
Soma considered that.
"You're becoming rather unsupportive."
"I'm becoming experienced."
As evening approached, Jaspar suggested they visit The Black Dragon.
Soma didn't need convincing.
The restaurant occupied a prominent corner of Highmere's commercial district, its dark timber exterior decorated with crimson banners and an enormous carved dragon above the entrance.
Warm light spilled from the windows.
The rich aroma of roasted meat and spiced sauces drifted into the street.
Soma inhaled.
"Franz is cooking wings."
Jaspar nodded.
"Probably."
Soma narrowed his eyes.
"You're being suspiciously agreeable."
"Enjoy it while it lasts."
Samantha opened the door.
"After you, Soma."
He stepped inside.
The entire restaurant erupted.
"SURPRISE!"
Soma stopped dead.
Dozens of voices filled the enormous dining hall.
Banners hung from the rafters.
Tables overflowed with food.
And gathered throughout the room were more familiar faces than he could possibly count.
His parents.
All six older siblings.
Uncle Zane.
The king and queen.
Kara.
Igor.
The Vanguard knights who had survived the forest ambush five years earlier.
Merchants.
Craftsmen.
Several Adventurers Guild members.
And people from the outer districts whom Soma had met during his years of service.
For several seconds, he couldn't move.
Then Sean's voice rang out.
"LOOK! HE'S ACTUALLY SPEECHLESS!"
Laughter exploded through the hall.
Soma slowly turned toward Jaspar.
"You."
The captain grinned.
"Me."
"You're dead."
"Get in line, boy."
Samantha laughed beside him.
"Happy birthday, Soma."
Aria reached him first.
"My baby!"
Soma barely had time to brace himself before she wrapped him in an enthusiastic embrace.
"Mother!"
"Fifteen!"
"Yes, Mother."
"Fifteen years old!"
"That's generally how birthdays work."
She kissed his forehead.
Soma sighed dramatically.
"Wonderful. Public humiliation."
Preston approached next, his enormous mustache groomed to a level of extravagance that should have required a royal permit.
"Happy birthday, son!"
Soma stared at him.
"Father."
"Yes?"
"Is your mustache larger than it was this morning?"
Preston smiled proudly.
"Special occasion."
Soma shook his head.
"One day, that thing is going to achieve sentience and demand its own noble title."
The king nearly choked on his drink.
Sean collapsed against a table laughing.
Preston looked wounded.
"I am surrounded by barbarians."
"Seven of them are your children," Simon remarked.
"An unfortunate oversight in my family planning."
Aria smacked her husband lightly on the arm.
"Preston!"
Soma laughed.
It felt wonderful.
Franz emerged from the kitchens carrying an enormous platter.
"WHERE'S MY FAVORITE LITTLE BASTARD?"
Soma raised a hand.
"Unfortunately, present."
Franz grinned.
"Look at you! Fifteen already!"
He set the platter down.
Dragon wings.
An absurd quantity of them.
Coated in the same sweet, spicy glaze Soma had loved since childhood.
Soma stared.
"Franz."
"Yes?"
"I may actually cry."
"Then cry after you eat. They're getting cold."
Igor appeared beside them.
"Careful, boy. Remember what happened on your tenth birthday."
Soma narrowed his eyes.
"I was perfectly fine."
"Your stomach sounded like a dying swamp beast."
"That was a temporary disagreement."
Kara laughed.
Jaspar took a wing.
"He's going to do it again."
"Probably," Samantha replied.
Soma picked up his plate.
"I refuse to apologize for greatness."
The evening passed in a whirlwind of laughter.
Stephan presented Soma with a beautifully bound collection of historical works and several new novels.
Simon offered updated maps and a detailed atlas containing recently surveyed routes beyond Cyradon.
Scott presented a set of training equipment, while Sara gifted him a tailored traveling cloak.
Sean handed him another wooden box.
Soma opened it cautiously.
Inside rested an elaborate fake mustache.
He stared.
Sean grinned.
"Now you can finally resemble Father properly."
Soma slowly raised it beneath his nose.
Then adopted Preston's most serious expression.
"Son, have you considered the importance of maintaining one's facial magnificence?"
The room erupted.
Preston covered his face.
"I have failed as a father."
"Spectacularly," Simon agreed.
Serena approached last, carrying a small wrapped parcel.
Inside was a newly embroidered bookmark.
Dark-blue cloth.
Silver stars.
And a carefully stitched sunrise.
Soma looked up.
Serena smiled.
"I thought the old one was getting worn."
He examined the embroidery.
It was considerably more refined than the bookmark she'd made five years earlier.
"Thank you."
She hugged him.
"Happy birthday, Bubba."
Soma hugged her back.
"Love you, Serena."
"Love you too."
Later that evening, the king called for everyone's attention.
Conversations quieted.
Glasses were raised.
His Majesty stood near the center of the hall, wearing an expression that was unusually warm for a man who spent much of his life managing the affairs of an enormous kingdom.
"Tonight," he began, "we celebrate the fifteenth birthday of Soma Locke."
Cheers filled the room.
Soma immediately wanted to disappear beneath the nearest table.
The king smiled.
"Five years ago, many of us wondered what sort of young man this remarkable child would become."
He paused.
"Some expected a scholar. Others imagined a warrior. His father undoubtedly hoped he'd inherit an appreciation for extravagant facial hair."
Laughter thundered through the restaurant.
Preston sighed.
"Your Majesty..."
"But Soma has become something none of us could have assigned him through birth or title."
The king looked toward the gathered citizens.
"He has become someone people trust."
The room grew quiet.
"He has worked beside craftsmen, listened to merchants, assisted farmers, and stood alongside those who risk their lives protecting this kingdom."
His voice softened.
"And the people have given him a name of their own."
Several patrons raised their mugs.
"The Crownless Dawn!"
The shout spread.
Then another voice joined.
And another.
Within moments, the entire restaurant was cheering.
"CROWNLESS DAWN!"
Soma stood motionless.
His throat tightened.
He'd never known how to respond to that name.
Part of him still felt he hadn't earned it.
There were soldiers who had fought far longer.
Healers who had saved far more lives.
Ordinary citizens who worked tirelessly without recognition.
Yet the people around him weren't cheering because they believed he was perfect.
They were cheering because he'd tried.
Because he'd shown up.
Because he'd treated them as though their lives mattered.
Soma slowly raised his glass.
"Thank you."
The room quieted.
He glanced toward his parents.
His siblings.
His mentors.
Samantha.
And the faces of people who had become part of his life.
"I don't know if I deserve everything you've said about me."
Jaspar snorted.
"Probably not."
Laughter rippled through the room.
Soma smiled.
"But I know this. Everything I've accomplished happened because people believed in me, taught me, and were willing to stand beside me."
He raised his glass higher.
"So tonight, I'd rather celebrate all of you."
A cheer rose.
Soma grinned.
"And if anyone wants to demonstrate their gratitude, Franz has prepared enough dragon wings to feed a small army."
The room erupted again.
Franz shouted from the kitchen.
"THEN STOP TALKING AND START EATING!"
Much later, after the music quieted and most guests had departed, Soma slipped outside.
The night air was cool against his face.
Highmere glittered beneath the stars, its streets illuminated by lanterns and distant magical lights.
Above the city, the Citadel rose into darkness.
Soma leaned against the balcony railing.
Fifteen.
Five years ago, he had nearly died on a forest road.
He had killed someone for the first time.
Watched Samantha bleed.
Nearly lost Simon.
And discovered that his own blood held a secret powerful enough to frighten kings and Cardinals.
For a long time afterward, he'd believed becoming stronger meant preventing those things from ever happening again.
Now he understood that strength couldn't guarantee safety.
But it could give him more choices.
Better judgment.
A greater ability to act when others needed him.
Behind him, the door opened.
"Thought I'd find you out here."
Jaspar approached carrying two cups.
Soma glanced toward him.
"Please tell me that's tea."
"It is."
"Wonderful. I was beginning to worry you'd finally decided to corrupt my innocence."
The captain snorted.
"That ship sailed years ago. Igor's been teaching you vocabulary that would make a dockworker blush."
Soma grinned.
"An unfortunate side effect of quality education."
Jaspar handed him a cup.
For several minutes, they stood together in silence.
Then the captain spoke.
"You're different from the boy I met five years ago."
Soma looked down at his tea.
"I would hope so."
"You've grown."
"Physically?"
"Unfortunately."
Soma laughed.
Jasper smiled faintly.