Chapter One: Beneath the Petals (Part Two)
Date: May 23, Year 204 PCR (Maelis 23)
Location: Celestis Veil – Heartbloom Summit / Petalwind Courtyard
Time: Morning
The hum of the Pulse Eye Orb deepened.
It hung in the air above the stone dais, a perfect sphere of polished black crystal, veins of luminous blue threading through it like breath trapped in glass. The markings etched along its curve—Veilscript from before the Fracture—began to glow, one after another, like a heartbeat syncing with the courtyard.
The petals fell slower now.
And from the shadows of the high terraces, the whispers began.
"They're just kids…"
"All Resonants end up dying."
"The system's broken. They're setting them up for failure."
The voice came from somewhere near the back—an older student, one who hadn't been chosen. Another joined. Then another. A wave of doubt rippled through the outer edge of the audience, hushed but heavy. Even those who didn't speak wore it in their eyes.
The sacred moment was already under siege.
Zephryn stood still. His fists tightened at his sides. He could feel the pulse in his fingertips—not his own heartbeat, but the call of the orb, like it already knew him. Like it had seen him before. The whispers reached him too, and they landed sharper than they should have.
Yolti shifted nervously beside him. "Ignore them. They don't know."
Selka didn't speak. Her gaze was fixed on the orb.
Kaelen, on the other side, scoffed. "Let them talk. Doubt's a song for those too scared to listen."
Still, the tension climbed. The orb flared again, brighter this time—enough to cast streaks of gold and silver across the faces of those assembled.
King Vaelen raised a hand.
"Let the First Bloom begin."
The crowd fell silent.
The first name was called.
A boy from the left side stepped forward, hands shaking. He walked barefoot across the harmonized stone, petals brushing his shoulders. As he neared the orb, it began to react—low pulses rippling outward like ripples across memory.
He touched it.
The orb blazed red. A flame spiral danced through the air behind him, and his Veilmark—still faint and unformed—surged with heat. The crowd gasped. The boy stepped back, stunned, blinking into his own fingers like he didn't understand what he'd just felt.
No words were spoken. No squad name was given. Not yet.
Only one element revealed.
One truth sung.
Another child stepped forward. Then another. The orb shifted each time:
One sparked with deep violet lightning, cracking through the glyph above their palm. Another stirred wind so fierce the petals whirled off-course. A girl barely older than Zephryn stepped up, and the orb glowed emerald—but not with earth. With something older. Deeper. Water wrapped in sorrow.
Each revelation felt like a verse in a longer song.
But it was only when the sixth candidate stepped up—trembling, uncertain—that the orb pulsed and then… dimmed.
A hush fell.
No reaction. No glyph. The orb offered nothing.
The child stood there frozen, eyes wide, hands still on the stone.
From the terraces came a murmur.
"Another silent one."
"Just like last year."
"If the orb won't sing for them, they'll never rise."
The instructors said nothing. But the silence felt cruel.
Zephryn's eyes didn't leave the orb. He felt it—the storm building inside him, the pull, the resistance. His glyph hadn't returned since the Trial, but his soul hadn't stopped echoing since.
He turned slightly. His gaze swept the perimeter.
Lumyra… still unmoving.
Riko… now staring right at him.
There was something in his expression—not envy, not anger. Something quieter. Like he was watching Zephryn walk into something he already knew the ending to.
And still, the line moved forward.
Dozens would step up before it was Zephryn's turn.
But the Pulse Eye Orb was already listening.
Waiting.