In the Ironshade region, there was no greater event than the Awakening Trials. Once a year, all who had reached their sixteenth year gathered at the Ascension Grounds of the Grand Academy. It was the day that separated the ordinary from the chosen, the powerless from the blooded.
The day when destinies were rewritten—unless you were Kairo.
From beyond the spiked gates, he watched the glowing pillars of the Academy cast golden light across the courtyard. Every noble house was in attendance, seated atop the viewing platforms shaded in violet banners. Guards lined the perimeter in silver armor, keeping the commoners out.
Kairo stood in the dust just beyond the gate, behind the invisible line that marked where the privileged ended and the forgotten began. A few others from the outer districts hovered near him, but none stood as close to the gate as he did.
He didn't care if the guards saw him. Let them drag him away. He would still see it with his own eyes.
Inside the courtyard, over two hundred teens stood in proud lines, each representing a noble bloodline. The girls wore robes sewn with real silver thread; the boys, formal battle tunics etched with the sigils of their Houses. Their expressions ranged from excitement to boredom. Not one of them feared failure.
Because failure wasn't for the blooded.
It was for boys like Kairo.
"One touch of the stone," he thought, "and my fate could change." But the gate was shut. The Academy had scanned every applicant. His name had never even appeared in the records. His orphanage didn't have the right seal. And more importantly…
He was bloodless.
"Oi, rat." A sneering voice broke through his thoughts.
Kairo turned just in time for a ball of mud to hit him square in the chest.
The group of Academy boys behind the fence burst into laughter.
Claine Morvan stood in front, arms folded, his deep blue robes gleaming like polished sapphire. The sigil of House Morvan—a lion crowned with stars—was emblazoned across his shoulder.
"Still dreaming of stepping foot in here?" Claine smirked. "You'd probably break the stone with your filth."
Kairo wiped the mud off his shirt, saying nothing.
Claine's smirk faded. "Tch. No fight in you. That's why your kind never awakens." He turned to his friends. "Did you hear what he said last time? That he could feel his blood boiling. Poor thing probably drank spoiled soup."
More laughter. One of the other boys mimed clutching his chest and collapsing dramatically.
Kairo felt his nails dig into his palm. Blood pricked the skin—but not that blood. Not the kind that mattered.
He lowered his gaze and stepped back from the gate.
Claine wasn't worth it. Not today.
A gong sounded across the courtyard.
The Trials were about to begin.
The Awakening Stone stood in the center of the field, glowing with a faint silver pulse. A line of initiates began forming, each stepping forward to place their hand on the stone, awaiting judgment.
The first was a girl with flowing crimson hair. She raised her chin proudly, her fingers igniting with sparks before she even touched the surface.
When her palm met the stone, flames erupted from the base, spiraling up her body like a vortex. A roar of approval rang from the viewing platforms.
"Fire-blood," someone whispered.
"A direct descendant of House Kael."
Kairo couldn't help but stare. Fire danced from her fingertips even after she stepped away. A merchant nearby accidentally bumped her shoulder while trying to keep a basket from spilling.
Without a word, she raised her hand and flicked her wrist.
A whip of fire lashed across his stall, sending crates toppling and smoke billowing.
The merchant shrank back, hands raised. "Forgive me, my lady, I meant no harm—"
She turned away, unconcerned. The fire crackled behind her as the crowd murmured in amusement.
No one stepped forward to discipline her.
Of course not.
Rules were for the bloodless.
Kairo turned from the gate, jaw clenched. He couldn't watch anymore. Every successful awakening felt like another nail in the coffin of his own obscurity.
He walked through the alleys of Ironshade's lower ring, the sound of cheers growing fainter with every step.
The slums were quieter today. Most people had gone to watch the Trials on the projection walls at the center square. Even the usual pickpockets had vanished.
Kairo didn't go home.
There was no home to go back to.
The orphanage had been gutted days ago in a raid. The cots were torn, the books burned, the children gone. No one knew where the city had taken them. Or maybe no one cared enough to ask.
Only Ena had been left behind.
Only Ena… and Kairo.
He passed the shattered remains of the shelter's window and kept walking.
Eventually, his steps brought him to the western edge of Ironshade, where ruins met the jagged cliffs. Here, the land forgot its history. Cracked statues half-swallowed by vines lined the path, and remnants of a city older than the Academy whispered in the wind.
Kairo didn't know why he came here. Maybe it was habit. Or maybe it was something deeper—something he didn't yet understand.
He paused before an old stone arch, the entrance to what locals called the Hollow Temple. No one went inside. Not anymore.
But the wind carried something strange today.
A hum.
Low. Faint. Ancient.
He stepped through the archway.
The temple interior was darker than he remembered. Dust motes floated through broken beams of light. Moss grew along the floor, and cracks split the walls like veins.
Kairo moved deeper, drawn by the pulse in the air.
Then he saw it.
A chamber. Unsealed.
In its center, a pedestal. And on it, a single stone—black as obsidian but pulsing with red light, as if alive.
He didn't speak.
Didn't breathe.
The moment he stepped into the room, the air thickened.
And then…
A voice echoed through the silence.
Not a whisper. Not a hallucination.
A voice.
"Do you still wish to awaken?"
Kairo froze.
His mouth was dry. He couldn't answer.
The voice spoke again—older this time. Stronger. Darker.
"Then bleed."