The plaza fell quiet in layers.
Not all at once — silence never came that cleanly — but gradually, as voices lowered and movements slowed. Even the wind seemed to hesitate, as though unsure whether it was allowed to pass through a place where fate was about to be assigned.
Phaeros stood in line among dozens of others, hands relaxed at his sides, gaze forward.
The Awakening Pillar loomed at the center of the plaza, taller than he remembered. Its surface was pale stone veined with symbols worn smooth by time, symbols no living scholar could fully read. They weren't decorative. They were scars — marks left behind by generations of awakenings carving meaning into the world.
Priests in ash-gray robes moved with practiced solemnity. One by one, names were called.
A boy stepped forward.
Light flared.
A gasp rippled through the crowd.
"Elemental affinity confirmed — flame."
Applause followed. The boy laughed in disbelief, fire dancing across his fingertips. His parents cried openly.
Phaeros watched quietly.
He remembered this moment. Not this boy, but the pattern. The relief. The joy. The illusion that power always arrived gently.
Another name.
Another step forward.
Another destiny sealed.
Some awakenings were quieter. A shimmer in the air. A symbol hovering briefly before fading. A whispered declaration from the priests.
"Enhanced perception."
"Echo manipulation."
"Physical reinforcement."
Each time, the crowd reacted. Some cheered. Some murmured. Some fell silent in disappointment.
Power divided the world cleanly and without mercy.
Phaeros shifted his weight slightly.
The stone beneath his feet felt warmer than it should have.
Not hot — aware.
The sensation was subtle enough that no one else seemed to notice.
It's already paying attention, he thought.
A name rang out.
"Rhaelis Vorn."
The girl a few places ahead of him stiffened.
She stepped forward with careful composure, her posture straight despite the tension in her shoulders. Her hair was dark and neatly tied, her expression controlled to the point of severity. She looked like someone who had learned early that hesitation invited judgment.
Phaeros watched her more closely than he meant to.
He recognized her.
Not from this life.
From later.
From blood and binding light and contracts written in air.
A flicker of memory pressed against his thoughts — chains glowing with symbols, eyes sharp with resolve, a voice telling him this is the rule, and I will enforce it.
His fingers twitched.
The priests raised their hands.
Light descended.
It did not explode.
It did not roar.
Instead, it folded inward, quiet and precise, wrapping around Rhaelis like invisible script. Symbols shimmered briefly in the air — not chaotic, but orderly, aligned with unnatural perfection.
A murmur rippled through the plaza.
The light condensed into thin, translucent lines that circled her wrists once before fading into her skin.
The lead priest's voice rang out.
"Concept confirmed. Binding."
A pause.
Then, with a note of restrained awe:
"Contract-type manifestation."
The crowd stirred.
Contract abilities were rare. Dangerous. Highly valued.
Rhaelis remained still, though her eyes widened just slightly. She looked down at her hands as faint, threadlike markings briefly glimmered and vanished.
Her expression hardened — not in fear, but in resolve.
Phaeros exhaled quietly.
So it began.
You always looked like that, he thought distantly. Like you'd already decided to bear the cost.
For just a moment, Rhaelis glanced toward the line.
Their eyes met.
Her gaze sharpened, studying him with quiet curiosity. There was no recognition there — not yet — only a sense of awareness, as if she had felt something shift when he looked at her.
Phaeros looked away first.
Better not draw attention.
The ceremony continued.
More names. More light. More futures set into motion.
And then—
"Phaeros."
The sound of his name carried oddly far.
The plaza quieted.
Not completely. Just enough.
He stepped forward.
The stone beneath his feet pulsed once, faintly, like a heartbeat.
Every instinct told him to be careful.
Not to resist.
Not to reach.
Not to remember too much.
He stopped before the pillar.
The air thickened.
The priests raised their hands.
"Place your palm against the stone," one of them instructed.
Phaeros obeyed.
The moment his skin touched the surface, something inside him stirred.
Not violently.
Not eagerly.
Awareness brushed against awareness.
The pillar responded — not with light, but with hesitation.
A faint vibration traveled up his arm.
The symbols carved into the stone flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The plaza grew unnaturally still.
Phaeros felt a pressure gather behind his eyes, deep and distant, as if something immense were leaning closer to inspect him.
Ah…You again.
The thought was not a voice.
It was recognition.
The warmth beneath his collarbone flared faintly.
Deep within him, something ancient shifted, like a vast shape turning in dark water.
Not waking.
Not yet.
But acknowledging.
The pillar's light sputtered.
A murmur spread through the crowd.
The priests exchanged glances.
"Focus," one of them snapped quietly.
The symbols flared again — then abruptly dimmed.
For a breathless moment, nothing happened.
Then a thin strand of light emerged from the pillar, pale and indistinct, hovering uncertainly before settling into Phaeros' palm.
It was… incomplete.
Unstable.
Not fully formed.
The priest frowned.
"Concept… unclear."
A ripple of confusion moved through the onlookers.
The light shifted, trembling like it might disperse entirely.
Phaeros felt a tug inside his chest — not forceful, not commanding — more like a warning.
Don't push.
He obeyed.
He loosened his grip, mentally stepping back.
The light stabilized, dim but present.
The priest hesitated, then spoke again.
"Concept classification: undefined."
Murmurs broke out.
Undefined was rare.
Not unheard of, but never celebrated.
Often… pitied.
The priest cleared his throat. "Manifestation pending. Subject to later stabilization."
A pause.
Then, more quietly: "Proceed."
The light faded.
The pressure lifted.
Phaeros withdrew his hand.
His heartbeat was steady, but his palms were damp.
From the corner of his vision, he saw Rhaelis watching him again — more intently this time. Not with pity. With focus.
As if she sensed something unresolved.
He stepped away from the pillar, expression carefully neutral.
Inside, however, his thoughts churned.
So that's how it begins this time.
Undefined.
Incomplete.
Hidden.
Better than before.
Much better.
A faint, familiar sensation brushed his awareness again — curved, protective, patient.
Like something folded and waiting.
Not yet, he thought.
Somewhere far beyond the plaza, beyond sight and sound, something old and amused seemed to agree.