The marble steps of the High Temple of Ostina gleamed beneath the morning sun, each stone carved with ancient runes that pulsed faintly with ethereal light. A crowd stretched across the temple courtyard — hundreds upon hundreds of hopefuls, noble and common alike, dressed in fine robes or plain tunics, all waiting for their turn to awaken the flow of mana within their meridians.
The air itself seemed to hum with tension and excitement. The distant toll of ceremonial bells echoed over the white spires of Ostina, mingling with the murmur of voices and the flutter of banners marked with royal sigils.
When Klein stepped out of the carriage, heads immediately turned.
Whispers rippled through the gathered crowd like wind over a lake. The insignia on the carriage — a silver falcon over a field of azure — was unmistakable.
The Azure Crest Garrison.
But what drew even greater surprise was who that insignia represented.
"Is that… the garrison of Lucien Velmont?" a voice whispered.
"The Hero of the Kingdom?" another
murmured.
"The strongest knight in over six hundred years!"
Even those of noble blood straightened slightly at the name, their pride yielding momentarily to respect.
Klein felt their stares but didn't return them. His crimson hair caught the sunlight as he adjusted his black jacket and began walking through the open courtyard, scanning the grounds for an empty spot. The sheer scale of the temple struck him — stone pillars towering like giants, the massive dome above painted with constellations that shimmered faintly as if alive.
'Paros,' he thought silently, 'you sure this is the right place?'
'Unless you plan to awaken your mana in a stable,' Paros replied dryly, 'yes. This is the right place.'
Klein exhaled softly and continued forward.
Then, suddenly—
Thud.
Someone bumped into him from the side.
"Ah! My apologies!" came an animated voice.
Klein turned, blinking at the figure before him — a boy roughly his age, perhaps slightly older, with black hair slicked neatly back, dressed in fine silks trimmed with silver. His expression was bright, disarmingly friendly, and utterly unbothered by the crowd.
"Didn't see you there," the boy said quickly, offering a grin. "You move quietly for someone with hair that loud."
Klein blinked once. "...Hair that loud?"
"Yes!" The boy leaned closer, eyes narrowing with fascination. "That color — that's real, isn't it? Not some dye? You didn't use firethorn extract or red ash by mistake, did you?"
Klein took half a step back. "No."
"Fascinating!" The boy seemed entirely unshaken by the short answer. "Natural red like that is rare here. You're not from the capital, are you? Wait— you came in the Azure Crest carriage, didn't you? You're connected to Lucien Velmont! Tell me, what's he like? Is he as stoic as they say? Does he—"
"—breathe fire and juggle swords in his spare time?" Klein muttered.
The boy grinned. "Exactly! So he does!"
Klein closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. "You talk a lot."
"Only when I'm curious," the boy said cheerfully. "Which is most of the time."
There was a brief silence before Klein asked, "You done?"
"Not quite. What's your name?"
Klein looked at him. "You first."
The boy's grin turned smug. "That's not how introductions work. I asked first, so you answer first. Courtesy, you know?"
Klein studied him for a moment, then smirked faintly. "Alright. Let's make it interesting."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, glimmering coin — Paros' condensed form. The faint, intricate engravings shimmered along its surface as it flipped lightly in Klein's fingers.
"Let's call it," Klein said. "If it lands on tails, I answer. If it lands on heads, you do."
The boy's eyes lit up. "A wager, huh? Fine, I'll bite."
Klein smiled. "You sure?"
"Confident."
'He has no idea I always land heads,' Paros said smugly inside Klein's mind.
"That's the plan," Klein replied silently, then flicked the coin.
It spun through the air, catching the sunlight before landing neatly on Klein's palm — Heads.
Klein tilted his hand slightly so the boy could see.
"Your turn," he said simply.
The boy laughed under his breath, both impressed and mildly annoyed. "Fine, fine. You win this one." Straightening his posture with mock pride, he extended a hand. "Theodric Valen Aldencrest, son of Duke Aldencrest of the Northern Marches."
Klein shook the hand briefly. "Klein Adler."
"Adler," Theodric repeated thoughtfully. "Hmm. Doesn't ring any noble bells, but it does sound like someone interesting."
"Glad you approve," Klein said dryly.
"Don't be like that," Theodric replied, grinning. "We might end up friends before the ceremony's over. Or rivals, depending on who awakens stronger."
Klein gave him a sidelong look. "You're very confident for someone who just lost a coin toss."
"Confidence is all about pretending you never lose," Theodric said smoothly, then elbowed him lightly. "Besides, I like you. You're quiet, mysterious — it annoys me. That means we'll get along."
Klein huffed a quiet laugh despite himself. "You're impossible."
"I know," Theodric said brightly.
....
As they continued talking — or rather, as Theodric kept talking at him — the temple bells began to toll again, deeper this time. The hum of conversation faded as acolytes robed in white and gold appeared on the balcony above, their chants rising like waves through the air.
At the center of them stood the High Priest, his robes threaded with threads of light itself, staff crowned by a floating crystal that shimmered like a captured star.
"Children of Avalor," his voice rang out, calm yet commanding. "The hour of awakening has come. Still your hearts, open your spirits, and step forward into the light that gave us the gift of magic."
The crowd fell into silence. Even Theodric's constant chatter paused, eyes lifting to the grand figure above.
Klein straightened slightly, feeling the faint stir of something within him — a pulse that resonated with the air, deep and distant.
'So it begins,' Paros whispered.
Klein's eyes fixed on the temple steps, where the first of the acolytes began to descend.
And the ceremony began.