The ceremony had only just begun.
Yet for some, it had already ended.
Even as the Ember Witness continued to answer, children in the crowd began to lose hope. Not
because they had been judged—but because they had judged themselves. Some stepped forward
with confidence. Others with trembling hands. All raised their palms toward the same silent fire.
Not all were answered.
Some were met with flame immediately.
Others, trembling and uncertain, were answered without hesitation.
And some—
received nothing.
No flame.
No weapon.
No sign.
The Ember Witness remained cold.
Those children stepped back quietly. No announcement followed. No explanation was offered. The
meaning was understood without words.
The Ember did not choose effort.
It did not reward preparation.
Talent mattered.
And sometimes, even talent was not enough.
Names continued to be called.
Weapons formed.
A sword burst forth, sharp and commanding.
A spear followed, steady and unyielding.
A shield emerged, heavy and resolute.
Bows.
Blades.
Shapes unfamiliar to most.
With every awakening, whispers grew louder.
"That one's strong."
"Look at that glow."
"They'll go far."
And with every name answered—
and every name left unanswered—
the weight on my chest grew heavier.
People were waiting.
Not just for another wielder.
For me.
Cassian Lai's son.
A knight's blood.
Trained since childhood.
Even I had believed it was inevitable.
Then I heard a familiar name.
"Eren Holt."
My breath caught.
Eren stepped forward, the calm he always carried finally cracking. His hand trembled as he raised it
above the Ember Witness.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
Then lightning split the air.
A bow formed—alive with restrained power, its edges humming sharply. The glow surged upward,
brighter than most that day.
The crowd stirred.
"Lightning…"
"That's rare."
"Third brightest so far."
Officials moved.
Scribes wrote faster.
Knights straightened.
Eren staggered back, disbelief etched across his face. Pride had not reached him yet—only the
realization that the Ember had chosen him clearly.
People looked at him differently now.
And then—
my name was called.
The shift was immediate.
Conversations died.
Eyes turned.
Expectation pressed in from every side.
I stepped forward.
My heartbeat thundered louder than it should have. For the first time, doubt crept in.
What if I don't become a hero?
What if I'm not chosen at all?
The weight settled.
From the crowd.
From the knights.
From my parents.
From the raised dais.
The King was watching.
Not casually.
Not indifferently.
Closely.
I raised my hand toward the Ember Witness.
The silence stretched.
For a brief moment, I noticed her.
Princess Serena Viremont was watching me.
She smiled—softly, uncertainly—as if hoping the fire would answer.
Then I pulled my hand back.
Nothing.
No flame rose.
No weapon formed.
No light answered.
The Ember Witness remained cold.
The silence that followed was heavier than any roar.
Not shock.
Disappointment.
A breath left the crowd at once.
Some looked away.
Some frowned.
Some whispered.
"That was it?"
"Cassian Lai's son?"
"Not even a flicker…"
From the dais, the King's gaze lingered on me for a moment longer.
Then he looked away.
That was all.
But it was enough.
The ceremony continued.
Another name was called.
Another flame answered.
I stepped back, my legs light, unsteady.
My mother's hands were clenched tightly together.
My father turned toward me.
Cassian Lai did not ignore me.
He met my eyes and gave a single, firm nod.
Not anger.
Not disappointment.
Fate.
Eren looked at me from where he stood, lightning still faintly echoing around him. Guilt crossed his
face, quick and unmistakable.
Around us, the ceremony went on.
Weapons appeared.
Children celebrated.
Others faded quietly into the crowd.
Only then did the truth settle fully.
The Ember Witness did not care for expectations.
It did not care for bloodlines.
It did not care for crowns.
It chose.
And sometimes—
it chose no one at all.