Morning arrived without ceremony.
No bells rang. No horns announced destiny. The sun rose as it always did, spilling pale light across the town's stone rooftops and narrow streets, indifferent to the importance people placed upon this day.
For most, it was just another evaluation.
For some, it was confirmation.
For a few… it would be the beginning of departure.
Aeryn Vael opened his eyes before the town fully woke.
The strange heaviness from the night before was gone. In its place was an unfamiliar clarity, as if his thoughts had been quietly sharpened while he slept. He lay still for a moment, listening to the building breathe—wood settling, distant footsteps below, the faint call of a merchant preparing for the day.
Everything felt normal.
Too normal.
If not for the lingering memory of that translucent shimmer, Aeryn might have convinced himself that the night had been nothing more than exhaustion playing tricks on his mind.
But he didn't.
He sat up slowly and placed his feet on the cold floor. The chill grounded him. He exhaled, steadying himself, and began to dress.
Simple clothes. Practical. Worn but clean.
There was no reason to dress impressively. The evaluation did not care about appearances.
It never had.
Outside, the town was already stirring.
Youths gathered in small groups, their voices low but energetic. Some laughed too loudly, masking nervousness. Others spoke with confidence that bordered on arrogance. Parents stood nearby, offering last-minute advice that had been repeated every year, for generations.
"Stand straight."
"Don't overthink it."
"Do your best."
Aeryn walked alone.
It wasn't intentional. He simply moved at his own pace, hands in his pockets, gaze drifting across familiar streets he had walked since childhood. Stone buildings leaned slightly with age, their surfaces smoothed by countless seasons. Vendors set up stalls, pretending not to watch the passing youths too closely.
Everyone knew where they were going.
The Evaluation Grounds sat at the center of town—a wide, circular plaza paved with dark stone. At its heart stood a single structure that did not match the rest of the town.
A pillar.
Tall, smooth, and faintly reflective, it rose from the ground like a fragment of something not meant to be here. No one knew who had placed it there, or when. It predated the town itself.
The pillar had always been.
Aeryn slowed as it came into view.
Even from a distance, he felt it—a subtle pressure in the air, not oppressive but undeniable. Like standing near deep water, aware that something vast existed just beyond sight.
He had stood here before.
Every year, he stood here again.
And every year, the result was the same.
By the time Aeryn reached the plaza, most of the participants had already arrived.
Officials stood near the pillar, wearing plain robes marked with simple insignias. They carried no weapons, showed no visible power, and yet the crowd instinctively kept its distance.
Authority did not always need force.
Names were called one by one.
Each youth stepped forward, placed a hand on the pillar, and waited.
Some reactions were immediate—light flaring briefly, symbols flashing across the surface before fading. Those participants were quickly escorted aside, their expressions a mixture of awe and relief.
Others experienced nothing.
They withdrew their hands, faces carefully neutral, and returned to the crowd. Some accepted it calmly. Others clenched their fists in frustration.
Aeryn watched quietly, his expression unreadable.
He noticed patterns.
Not in who succeeded or failed—but in how the pillar responded. The light was never the same. The symbols never repeated exactly. Subtle variations, slight delays, differences in intensity.
It wasn't random.
The realization settled calmly in his mind.
It's measuring something more than strength.
"Next," an official called out.
A familiar name echoed through the plaza.
A youth stepped forward, confident, chin raised. The pillar responded with a bright glow, drawing murmurs from the crowd. The official nodded, satisfied.
Aeryn felt no jealousy.
Only curiosity.
Time moved on.
The sun climbed higher. The crowd thinned.
And eventually—
"Aeryn Vael."
The name sounded ordinary.
It always had.
Aeryn stepped forward.
The stone beneath his boots felt cooler here, as if the pillar drew warmth from its surroundings. He stopped before it and placed his hand against the smooth surface.
It was colder than expected.
For a brief moment, nothing happened.
The crowd watched, already preparing to look away.
Then—
A faint sensation spread from his palm, subtle but unmistakable. Not heat. Not pain.
Recognition.
The pillar's surface shimmered—barely.
So faint that only those closest noticed.
The official frowned.
A second passed.
Then another.
No brilliant light. No clear symbol.
Just a quiet, lingering response that refused to resolve.
Aeryn felt the pressure return to his chest, stronger than before, but controlled. His thoughts sharpened again, as if something were aligning itself.
And then—
The shimmer vanished.
"Result inconclusive," the official said after a pause, his tone carefully neutral.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Inconclusive results were rare.
Aeryn withdrew his hand calmly.
"Return tomorrow," the official added. "Further assessment will be conducted."
Aeryn nodded once and stepped away.
He did not look back.
The plaza buzzed with speculation as the evaluation concluded.
Some celebrated. Some mourned. Some prepared to leave the town behind.
Aeryn moved through it all like a shadow, his mind focused inward.
The pillar had responded.
Not strongly. Not clearly.
But it had responded.
As he crossed the bridge on his way back, the river below seemed brighter than before, its surface catching the light in shifting patterns. For a brief moment, Aeryn thought he saw something beneath the water—lines of light, moving against the current.
He blinked.
The river returned to normal.
His heartbeat quickened slightly.
That night, as the town settled once more into silence, Aeryn sat by his window, staring out at the darkened streets.
The world felt thinner now.
As if the surface he had lived on his entire life had begun to crack—not violently, not suddenly—but enough for something deeper to breathe through.
He did not know what tomorrow's assessment would reveal.
He did not know why the pillar hesitated.
But one thing was clear.
The world had looked at him.
And it had not decided to ignore him.
For the first time in his life, Aeryn Vael felt something shift—not in his body, but in the shape of his future.
Slowly.
Inevitably.
And somewhere beyond his sight, something ancient and patient adjusted its attention… just slightly in his direction.