Chapter 45: Before the Roar
Night had fallen over the Morningstar Citadel, cloaking everything in a veil of blue mist and soft lights. The pavilions brimmed with murmurs, but in the courtyards, silence lay like stone. The air smelled of incense, damp earth, and freshly polished metal. The gardens, illuminated by paper lanterns and the pale glow of the moon, were both refuge and border: there, the dreams and fears of a generation were woven in the shadows.
I. The Refuge of Siblinghood
In the Pillars' Pavilion, Kael, Violeta, and Eris shared one last moment together before the grand tournament.
Violeta sat by the window, hair loose, gaze lost on the frozen fields beyond the walls. Kael sharpened his crimson sword, the blade's reflection dancing in his golden eyes. Eris, restless, paced barefoot on the bear pelt rug, a flicker of fire spinning between her fingers.
"I never thought I'd be nervous before a tournament," Eris confessed, breaking the silence. "But this time... I don't want to disappoint you."
Kael smiled without looking up from his weapon. "Disappointment isn't an option when your rival is your own sister. Remember when we fought over the last lotus bun?"
Violeta let out a low laugh. "Eris won. And you cried for a week."
"It was a very good bun," Kael replied, feigning seriousness.
For a moment, the ice in their souls melted into warmth.
Violeta turned in her seat, looking at them both. "Let's promise something. Whatever happens tomorrow, no result will separate us."
Eris nodded forcefully, extinguishing the flame in her palm. "Titles, ranks, all that is just weight if you forget where you come from."
Kael sheathed his sword and held a hand out to each of them. "Whatever happens, tomorrow and always, we are Morningstar."
Their three hands joined, and the Qi of their bloodlines resonated with the echo of an ancestral promise.
II. The Storm in the Blood
In another pavilion, Lyra sat alone, surrounded by the steam of an herbal infusion. She had avoided the bustle and jokes of the others. She felt the gaze of the ancients—the weight of her exile and the constant whisper of abyssal mist in her veins.
The ancestral ring on her finger glowed softly.
"Afraid of falling again?" whispered the voice of the ancestor.
Lyra clenched her fist. "No. I was afraid of not having a second chance. Now, I'm afraid of not being worthy of it."
The spirit replied: "Fear is a warrior's seal. It only devours you if you deny it. Make it a blade, not a chain."
The young woman breathed deeply, letting the inner mist flow, cooling her pulse and clearing her mind.
At the window, she saw Aylin training alone under a light rain. She stood, driven by an unknown impulse.
Outside, beneath the rain-soaked bamboo, Aylin practiced spear movements and dance—a choreography of risk and grace. Her Qi sparkled in flashes of earth and wind.
Lyra stopped beside her, silent.
Aylin lowered her spear and smiled, without bravado. "Does the stage scare you?" she asked.
"Not the stage," Lyra replied. "The emptiness after the battle."
Aylin nodded. "I've felt it all my life. That's why I train—so the next battle is always worth it."
Both shared the silence, rain on their shoulders and the pulse of the clan vibrating in the earth.
III. The Pillars' Oath
In the meditation room, Cedric, Xylia, and Elowen had lit a circle of candles. The golden and blue glow drew their faces in shadow and light.
Cedric, palms open on the floor, murmured formulas of protection and strategy. Xylia played an ancient lute, the music broken by soft lightning crackling on the strings. Elowen wove small spheres of life: pills, seeds, promises of healing for the following morning.
"And if we fall?" Xylia asked, her voice barely audible among the notes.
"Then we rise," Elowen said calmly. "Not because we're invincible, but because the clan needs it."
Cedric lifted his head, the gleam in his gaze reflecting determination. "There's no shame in falling while fighting for your bloodline. Shame is not daring to fight."
The three joined hands in the center of the circle, sealing the oath.
"For Morningstar," they whispered in unison, "for the flame that never dies."
IV. The Patriarch and the Daughter of Destiny
At the top of the tower, Samael stood before the open window. The night wind stirred his robe, and the moon bathed his white hair with silver sparkles.
Beside him, Seraphina held Celeste, the child of dark destiny, wrapped in a sky-blue blanket.
Celeste slept, but her Qi was a gentle melody, a breeze that soothed the patriarch's wounds.
Samael kissed the girl's forehead. "Do you think the world will ever understand her?" he asked softly.
Seraphina shook her head gently. "They don't need to understand her. They only need to feel her hope."
The little one moved her lips in sleep, as if repeating some ancestral secret.
Samael took Seraphina's hand. "Tomorrow, the clan's geniuses will face their destiny. I…"
"Are you afraid?" she whispered.
He nodded, without shame. "I'm afraid to lose them. I'm afraid that glory will steal their humanity. But I also know the only true inheritance…"
Seraphina finished the phrase: "…is that they never stop loving each other."
The couple gazed out at the lit-up city, feeling how, in the stillness of night, the Morningstar clan beat as one heart.
V. Promises Beneath the Stars
Later, in the garden of Skull Rock, the disciples gathered to tie wishing ribbons to the Star Tree. It was an ancient tradition, revived for every battle's eve.
Kael, Violeta, and Eris tied a red ribbon together: "For the strength of family."
Lyra wrote on a silver ribbon: "For redemption."
Aylin, shy but firm, tied an emerald green ribbon: "For the right to dream."
Cedric, Xylia, and Elowen, together, tied a blue and gold ribbon: "For unity and the future."
One by one, clan members, young and old, added their vows. Each ribbon glowed with its own light, as if the tree remembered every promise.
High above, Samael watched. The system whispered: [Your children, siblings, and disciples have sealed their destiny. The clan is ready, even if the world is not. May tomorrow, history fear to miss the roar of the Morningstar.]
. Echoes of the Absent
Some, scattered throughout the Citadel, recited poems, polished weapons, or read old letters. Others, in the relic hall, prayed at ancestor altars, asking for strength and forgiveness. A small child left a flower at the statue of a fallen hero, murmuring: "May you hear our roar tomorrow."
. The Last Silence
The moon moved forward, ethereal and solemn. From the tower, Samael felt the system whisper: [Your children, siblings, and disciples have sealed their destiny. The clan is ready, even if the world is not. May tomorrow, history fear the roar of the Morningstar.]
In the utter stillness, a distant bolt crossed the sky. The sentries looked up, and for an instant, the ancient continent seemed to hold its breath.
. Dawn of the Roar
When darkness gave way to the first light, not a single Morningstar felt alone. In every chest burned courage forged in calm, in siblinghood, and in promise. And so, before the roar, the legend of a generation was born. Silence, at last, was ready to be broken.
. Epilogue: The Last Vigil
That night, few slept. Some reviewed strategies; others remembered losses, scars, loves, and defeats. Some prayed in silence, others shared poems or soft laughter. The moon continued its course, ethereal and solemn. And when at last the night touched dawn, a single certainty floated in the air: Tomorrow's battle would be hard. That destiny, at last, could be changed. And that, no matter what happens, no one would have to face it alone. Thus, beneath the stars and in the stillness before the roar, was born the courage that would make the ancient continent tremble.