The academy felt different on the eve of awakening.
Not louder—if anything, quieter—but charged with a tension that settled into the stone like moisture before a storm. Conversations were shorter. Laughter more brittle. Even the instructors moved with a subtle urgency, their gazes sharper, their tolerance thinner.
Aerin noticed everything.
He sat in the lecture hall, hands folded loosely on the desk, listening as Instructor Halver concluded the final pre-awakening briefing.
"Tomorrow," Halver said, his voice carrying without effort, "you will be evaluated not on what you want to become—but on what you are."
No one spoke.
"Remember this," he continued. "Awakening does not grant strength. It reveals compatibility. What you do with that knowledge afterward is your responsibility."
His gaze swept the room once more, pausing briefly on several students—those with lineage, those with reputation, those already burdened by expectation.
It passed over Aerin without lingering.
That suited him.
After classes, the training grounds were packed.
Mana flared in controlled bursts. Blunted weapons clashed under instructor supervision. Some students trained alone, others in pairs, all trying to squeeze one last advantage out of their preparation.
Aerin did none of that.
Instead, he walked the perimeter of the grounds, observing footwork, timing, mistakes. He noted how many relied on brute force, how many overextended, how few conserved stamina.
"Trying to memorize everyone's moves?" Rethan asked, jogging up beside him.
Aerin shook his head. "Just patterns."
Rethan laughed. "You're strange, you know that?"
"So I've been told."
Rethan hesitated. "You nervous?"
Aerin considered the question.
"No," he said truthfully. "I'm curious."
Rethan blinked, then snorted. "Figures."
That night, Aerin didn't train.
He sat in his room, lights dimmed, window open to let the cool evening air in. The city stretched below, lanterns flickering like distant stars. Somewhere, a bell rang, marking the ninth hour.
He focused inward one last time.
The presence at his neck responded faintly—acknowledgment without intrusion. He could sense depth there, layers folded upon layers, like a sealed library whose doors were barred not by locks but by time.
"You'll stay silent tomorrow," Aerin said quietly.
No response came.
But the pressure eased, as if in agreement.
Morning arrived.
Clear skies. Soft light. The kind of day that felt chosen.
Students gathered in the central awakening plaza—a massive circular platform inlaid with concentric rings of rune-etched stone. At its center rose a crystal pillar, translucent and softly glowing, taller than any building in the district.
The Awakening Core.
Aerin stood among his peers, dressed in standard uniform, hands at his sides.
Names were called in sequence.
One by one, students stepped forward, placed their hands on the crystal, and waited.
Some emerged with visible elemental resonance—flickers of flame, ripples of water, hardened air. Others showed weapon affinity, mana coalescing around imagined forms.
A few walked away quietly.
Unawakened.
The crowd reacted accordingly—cheers, murmurs, pity disguised as indifference.
Aerin watched, face calm, heart steady.
When his name was finally called—
"Aerin Solvane."
He stepped forward.
The crystal was cool beneath his palm.
He closed his eyes.
There was no resistance.
No surge.
No sudden revelation.
Instead, something unfolded—slowly, deliberately.
Mana flowed outward in two distinct patterns.
One fluid.
One structured.
Magic and weapon affinity.
A low hum rippled through the crystal. The runes along the platform lit up in soft, neutral hues—neither bright nor dim.
The evaluators exchanged glances.
"Dual-wielder," one murmured. "Balanced."
"Nothing exceptional," another said. "But stable."
The crystal dimmed.
Aerin stepped back.
No applause.
No disappointment.
Just acknowledgment.
He returned to his place among the students, expression unchanged.
Inside, he felt it—a framework settling into place, like a foundation laid without ceremony.
Average.
That was fine.
That was perfect.
As the ceremony concluded, the academy bells rang out, signaling the end of anticipation and the beginning of consequence.
Power had been revealed.
Paths had been set.
And beneath the quiet surface of Aerin Solvane's awakening, something ancient remained still—
unmoved,
unseen,
and waiting far beyond what the crystal could ever measure.