The Grand Bloom Hall shook with cheers that seemed to reach the very heavens themselves. Ten thousand voices—maybe more—roared in a wave of sound so powerful that the ancient stone pillars trembled, and dust from the vaulted ceiling drifted down like snow. The acoustics of the massive chamber amplified every shout, every gasp, every collective intake of breath until it felt like the entire world had gathered to witness this sacred moment.
The first kid stepped into the circle.
He was tall, confident, shoulders squared like he'd been born for this exact instant. His robes were pristine white, embroidered with silver thread that caught the light from the thousand candles burning in their iron sconces along the walls. The moment his boots crossed the glowing boundary of the manifestation circle, something changed in the air—a tension, a pressure, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Then it happened.
Vines exploded from his palms with a sound like tearing fabric amplified a thousand times. They twisted and writhed, thick as a man's arm, covered in thorns that glittered like emerald daggers. The vines moved with terrifying intelligence, coiling around each other, weaving themselves into an intricate throne of green thorns that rose seven feet high. Flowers bloomed along its arms—blood-red roses that released a perfume so intoxicating that people in the front rows swayed on their feet.
The crowd absolutely lost it.
Screams of joy. Applause that sounded like thunder. Parents weeping. Younger children pointing with wonder-struck faces.
Priestess Lira stood at the edge of the circle, her ancient face creased with a smile that made her look decades younger. She raised her arms, and somehow her voice cut through the chaos like a blade through silk. "Mother Nature's embrace! A Main Branch gift—Verdant Throne! The boy is blessed among blessed!"
The cheering redoubled. The kid with the vine throne grinned, soaking it all in, basking in the adoration like a plant in sunlight.
Next came a girl with amber eyes and hair so blonde it was nearly white. She trembled as she approached the circle, hands clasped together in prayer. But the moment she crossed the threshold, her fear vanished. Copper wires erupted from her fingertips—no, not erupted. They *danced*. Delicate as spider silk but gleaming like polished metal, they twisted through the air in patterns so complex they hurt to watch. Electricity crackled along their length, blue-white and beautiful, casting strange shadows that seemed to move independently of their source.
"Mother Metal's kiss! Copper Conductor!" Priestess Lira's voice rang with pride.
Then came a boy whose skin cracked open with glowing lava veins that pulsed beneath the surface like a second heartbeat. Another girl who summoned ice that formed into a sculpture of a massive bird, wings spread, so detailed you could see individual feathers. A boy who called forth mercury that pooled at his feet and rose into shifting humanoid shapes that mimicked his movements perfectly.
Each manifestation brighter than the last. Louder. More impossible.
The Grand Bloom Hall had become a showcase of divine favor, a testament to the Mothers' generosity, a celebration of humanity's connection to the powers that shaped the world itself.
Maxwell Thorne waited at the very back of the line.
He was shorter than the others by at least a head. His black hair was messy from running through the rain to get here—he'd overslept, again, and had sprinted the entire way from the orphanage on the city's edge. No fancy robes for him. Just a patched gray shirt that had belonged to someone else first, and pants two sizes too big that he'd cinched with rope to keep from falling down. His boots didn't match. One was brown, the other black.
Orphan. Blank. The kid everyone already knew would fail.
Whispers followed him like flies. He could hear them even over the celebrations.
"That's the Thorne boy."
"Waste of a slot. Should've given it to someone worthy."
"I heard even the street rats have manifestations these days. What's his excuse?"
Max didn't care. Or rather, he told himself he didn't care. He'd spent the last three months preparing for this moment—not with training or meditation or prayer like the others, but with pure, stubborn determination. He'd read every book in the public library about manifestations. He'd interviewed older kids who'd already passed through the ceremony. He'd practiced visualization exercises until his head ached.
Today he would prove them all wrong.
Today, Maxwell Thorne would show the kingdom that destiny wasn't written in blood or breeding. That willpower could trump divine favor. That a nobody from nowhere could become somebody.
"Maxwell Thorne," Priestess Lira called.
Her voice carried pity. That was worse than contempt. Pity meant she'd already written him off, that she was going through the motions, that she expected nothing and would receive exactly that.
Snickers rolled through the rows of waiting candidates like a wave. Some didn't even bother hiding their laughter.
But there—near the front, copper hair shining like a new penny in the candlelight—stood Kael.
His best friend since they were six years old and Max had found him crying behind the baker's shop because older kids had stolen his breakfast. They'd grown up together, two orphans against the world, sharing dreams of becoming Heavenly Star Generals, of commanding armies, of having their names spoken with reverence instead of pity.
Kael already had faint wire patterns on his arms from his own early manifestation two hours ago—he'd been one of the first called, had summoned copper wires that had drawn gasps from the crowd. Mother Metal had smiled on him.
Now Kael caught Max's eye and shot him a thumbs-up.
*We got this,* the gesture said. *You and me, just like we planned.*
Max felt something warm bloom in his chest. Hope, maybe. Or just the stubborn refusal to accept defeat before the battle had even begun.
He walked forward.
His boots echoed too loud in the sudden hush that had fallen over the hall. Every step felt like it took an hour. The circle seemed impossibly far away, then suddenly he was there, toes touching the glowing boundary.
He took a deep breath.
Stepped inside.
The light pulsed once—green-gold, warm, welcoming. It felt like being wrapped in a blanket fresh from the dryer, like the first day of spring after a brutal winter, like every good thing that had ever happened condensed into a single moment.
Max closed his eyes. *Please,* he thought. *Anything. I don't care what. Just let me have this one thing.*
The warmth faded.
The light died.
Nothing.
No vines. No sparks. No wind. No flames. No mercury. No ice. No rot. No metal. No stone. No shadows. No gift for any mother.
Just Max, standing in a dead circle, fists clenched so hard his nails drew blood that dripped onto the stone floor.
Silence crashed over the hall like a physical weight.
Then someone laughed. A single, sharp bark of sound.
It broke the dam.
Laughter erupted—sharp, cruel, unstoppable. It came from everywhere at once, bouncing off the walls, multiplying until it felt like the entire world was laughing at him.
"Blank!"
"Motherless reject!"
"Vista spat on him!"
"The Mothers turned their backs!"
Priestess Lira cleared her throat, and the sound was like a funeral bell. "Try again, child. Sometimes the manifestation is... delayed."
Her tone said she didn't believe it.
But Max tried anyway.
He closed his eyes again. Focused harder. Imagined vines, imagined fire, imagined anything, everything, please, *please*—
He screamed inside his head: *Come on. Anything. Give me something! I'll take the weakest gift ever recorded, I don't care, just don't leave me empty!*
The circle stayed dark.
The laughter got louder.
Max opened his eyes.
And found Kael's face in the crowd.
Kael was laughing too. Not mean laughter—not the cruel mockery of the nobles or the bitter satisfaction of rivals. Just... genuine amusement. Like this was unexpected but kind of funny. Like Max was a friend who'd tripped over his own feet, and it was okay to laugh because friends could laugh together.
But it wasn't okay.
"Guess the Mothers know talent when they see it, huh?" Kael called out, voice carrying over the noise. He was still grinning, that familiar grin that usually made Max feel better but now felt like a knife twisting. "Don't worry, Max. I'll make Heavenly Star for both of us!"
The words cut deeper than any blade ever could.
Because they were meant kindly. Because Kael honestly thought he was being supportive. Because he didn't understand that some wounds couldn't be bandaged with friendship and good intentions.
Priestess Lira sighed, a sound heavy with disappointment and resignation. "The Mothers have spoken. No gift. Step aside, child. Make room for those they've chosen to bless."
Guards moved in from the shadows—two massive men in ceremonial armor that was more for show than function but still intimidating as hell.
Max didn't budge.
His voice came out low but steady, each word deliberate: "I'm not leaving. I'll become a Heavenly Star General anyway. With or without their stupid gifts. Watch me."
More laughter erupted, even louder than before. Someone threw a flower petal at his feet—a mockery of the petals that were usually cast for successful manifestations.
The guards grabbed his arms, fingers digging into his biceps hard enough to bruise.
Max fought.
He wasn't strong, wasn't trained, but he was desperate and angry and tired of being pushed around. He elbowed one guard in the gut, felt the satisfying *oof* of air leaving lungs. Kicked at another's knee, heard something crack. Broke free for a heartbeat, stumbled forward toward the exit—
Then a fist cracked across his jaw.
Pain exploded through his skull. Stars burst across his vision. The taste of blood, his blood—flooded his mouth.
He hit the stone floor hard enough to rattle his teeth.
They dragged him toward the side doors, his boots scraping against the floor, leaving marks.
Kids chanted in rhythm now, voices rising and falling like a tide: "Blank! Blank! Blank! Blank!"
Max twisted, muscles screaming, looking back at Kael one last time.
Kael wasn't laughing anymore. He just stared—eyes wide, mouth slightly open, like he hadn't expected it to go this far. Like he'd thought it would be funny right up until the guards got violent. Like he was seeing his friend for the first time and realizing he didn't know him at all.
The doors slammed shut with a boom that echoed through Max's bones.
Outside, rain poured from a sky so dark it looked like the world was ending.
Max stumbled into the square, chest heaving, each breath sending sharp pains through his ribs where the guard had punched him. Blood dripped from his split lip onto the wet cobblestones, diluting in the puddles, washing away.
He looked up at the storm clouds, rain pelting his face, mixing with tears he refused to acknowledge.
"I don't need you," he whispered to the Mothers, to the kingdom, to the world itself, to every person who'd ever looked at him with pity or contempt. "I'll climb anyway. I'll stand taller than all twelve Generals combined. I swear it. I swear it on my blood, on my life, on everything I am and everything I'll become."
Lightning flashed, turning the world white for an instant.
Thunder rolled.
Then the ground split.
Not cracked. Not trembled. *Split*—a jagged tear in reality itself that vomited forth something that shouldn't exist.
A Corruption beast erupted from the earth in an explosion of black soil and twisted roots.
It was a wolf. Or it had been, once, before the Corruption took it. Now it was the size of a cart, muscles bulging under skin that looked like it had been flayed and then sewn back together wrong. Black veins pulsed across its body, spreading like cracks in glass. Its eyes were hollow pits that leaked shadow. Its jaws dripped with rot that hissed when it hit the ground, eating through stone.
Screams erupted from the Grand Bloom Hall.
The doors burst open and kids poured out, their fresh manifestations flaring to life in panic and confusion—vines whipping, flames igniting, copper whips crackling, ice forming into shields and spears.
But the beast was fast. Impossibly fast.
It lunged straight for a cluster of younger children frozen in terror near the hall's entrance, kids who'd been waiting for their own ceremonies, who hadn't learned to fight yet, whose gifts were hours old.
Max didn't hesitate.
Didn't think.
Just moved.
He sprinted, legs pumping, boots splashing through puddles, lungs burning. Grabbed a broken wooden beam from the ground—part of the festival decorations that the storm had torn down. It was heavy, unwieldy, but it was *something*.
"HEY! OVER HERE, YOU UGLY PIECE OF ROT!"
He swung with everything he had.
The beam cracked against the beast's skull with a sound like a tree splitting. The impact sent shockwaves up Max's arms, but the beast's head snapped to the side.
It turned, snarling, forgetting the children.
Focused entirely on him.
Max dodged claws that tore through stone like paper, gouging furrows a foot deep. Rolled under a swipe that would have decapitated him. Came up swinging again, caught the beast across the snout.
The beast's tail whipped around, a blur of motion.
Max blocked with the beam—
Wood splintered. The shock ran up his arms like electricity, numbing them to the shoulder.
Another claw came at him from the side.
This time it connected.
Ripped across his chest, through his shirt, through skin and muscle.
Blood sprayed in an arc that looked black in the rain.
Max staggered back, the beam falling from fingers that had gone completely numb.
He looked down.
His shirt hung in tatters. His ribs were visible through the gash. He could see his heartbeat pulsing beneath the torn flesh, a desperate rhythm that was already slowing.
The beast reared up on its hind legs, preparing for the killing strike.
Max tried to stand. His legs buckled. He fell to his knees, hands pressed against the wound that wouldn't stop bleeding.
"MAX!"
Kael burst in ,copper wires whipping from his hands . His face was twisted with panic and determination.
The wires shot forward—wrapped around the beast's legs, tightened, shocked it with enough electricity to light up the square.
The beast howled, a sound that hurt to hear, that made the rain itself seem to recoil.
Max tried to stand again. Couldn't. The world was going fuzzy around the edges.
Kael reached him, sliding through the puddles, grabbing Max's shoulders.
"Hold on—hold on! I've got you! Just hold on!"
Max grinned through blood that bubbled between his teeth.
"Told you…" His voice was barely a whisper. "I don't need gifts…"
Kael's wires tightened around the beast's legs, copper gleaming in the lightning flashes.
The beast thrashed, desperate, violent.
One claw broke free from the wires.
It slashed.
A blur of motion aimed straight at Kael's exposed back.
Max saw it happening in slow motion. Saw the trajectory. Saw where it would land—through Kael's shoulder, through his spine, through everything that made him who he was.
No.
Max shoved Kael aside with the last of his strength.
The claw took him instead.
Pierced clean through his chest, between the ribs, through the lung, out the back.
Max gasped—a wet, choking sound that sprayed blood.
He fell backward.
Hit the wet stone with a splash.
Rain fell into his open mouth,
Kael was screaming his name, the sound distant and distorted like it was coming from underwater.
The beast loomed over him, preparing to finish what it started.
Max stared up at the storm.
No light descended from the heavens to save him. No warmth enveloped him in a divine embrace. No gift manifested at the last moment like in the stories.
Just rain.
And darkness closing in from all sides, patient and inevitable.
His heartbeat slowed.
Once.
Twice.
Stopped.
Everything went black.
**End of Chapter 1**