The journey to Mount Ilhyr took Karel two days of steady climbing. Though he could have used the main path — wide and well-maintained for the many pilgrims who visited the sacred site — he chose instead a narrower trail known only to those of the royal bloodline. It wound through ancient groves of silver-barked trees and across streams that flowed over smooth stones.
He needed the solitude, the time to prepare himself mentally for what was to come.
The Awakening ceremony was a pivotal moment in every young Olkhar's life. It was when their latent gifts — abilities inherited from the other races of Inhevaen — would manifest and determine their place in society. For most, it meant the awakening of one or two gifts. For the exceptionally talented, three or four.
For the royal line, it traditionally meant five — a pentadon, master of all fundamental aspects of power.
But Karel's dreams had grown increasingly disturbing as the ceremony approached. The wasteland spreading, the figure with glowing eyes warning him that "the Dome is breaking." And most troubling of all, the dreams where he stood at the center, his own eyes glowing with that unnatural light.
What did it mean? Would his Awakening be different somehow? The thought both terrified and exhilarated him.
As the sun began to set on the second day, Karel reached the plateau near the summit where the Awakening Circle stood. The ancient site was a perfect ring of seven obelisks, each carved from a different material representing the seven races of Inhevaen. At the center was a circular platform of polished stone, etched with runes so old that even the most learned scholars could only guess at their full meaning.
A small encampment had been set up nearby — tents for the elders who would oversee the ceremony, for the other young Olkhar who would undergo their Awakening alongside Karel, and for the various witnesses and attendants. Karel spotted his uncle's tent immediately, larger than the others and bearing the royal insignia.
He approached it with measured steps, mentally rehearsing the formal greetings that tradition demanded. But before he could announce himself, the tent flap opened, and Rael Olkhar stepped out.
"Nephew," he said, his voice warm but carrying the weight of authority that came with his position as regent. "Right on time."
Karel bowed slightly. "Uncle. I hope I find you well."
"Well enough for an old man about to watch his nephew join the ranks of adult Olkhar." Rael smiled, the expression softening his otherwise stern features. He was a tall man, broad-shouldered and imposing, with the silver hair characteristic of the royal line, though his was now streaked with gray. "Come, we have much to discuss before tomorrow's ceremony."
Inside the tent was a simple but elegant living space: a sleeping area, a small table with chairs, and a section curtained off that presumably contained Rael's personal items. The regent gestured for Karel to sit at the table, where a modest meal had been laid out.
"Eat," Rael said, taking his own seat. "The climb is taxing, and you'll need your strength for tomorrow."
Karel didn't need to be told twice. He was famished after the journey, and the food — simple mountain fare of roasted meat, hearty bread, and fermented berries — was exactly what he needed.
As they ate, Rael studied him with an intensity that Karel had grown accustomed to over the years. His uncle had always watched him closely, as if looking for signs of... something. Karel had never been sure what.
"You've grown into a fine young man," Rael said finally. "Your father would be proud."
The mention of his father sent a pang through Karel's chest. "Do you think he knows? About my Awakening?"
Rael's expression grew guarded. "Your father's diplomatic mission takes him far beyond regular communication, Karel. You know this."
"Yes, but surely something as significant as his son's Awakening —"
"We've discussed this before," Rael interrupted, his tone firmer now. "The mission your father undertook is of vital importance to all Olkhar. To all of Inhevaen. He made his choice, knowing what it would cost him personally."
The familiar explanation did nothing to ease the ache in Karel's heart, nor did it answer the questions that had plagued him for eight years. Why had his father left so suddenly? What mission could be so important that it required abandoning his family without even a proper goodbye?
But Karel knew better than to press the issue. His uncle would reveal nothing more than he already had, no matter how persistently Karel asked.
"Now," Rael continued, clearly eager to change the subject, "let us discuss tomorrow's ceremony. You understand the process?"
Karel nodded. "The seven obelisks represent the seven races and their gifts. As I stand at the center of the circle, the obelisks will resonate with the Dome, activating any latent gifts I possess. The number and nature of these gifts will determine my future role among our people."
"Precisely," Rael confirmed. "And as a member of the royal line, you are expected to manifest five gifts — one from each of the five primary races: Sylarei verbal magic, Verithil perception, Arenya physical enhancement, Zhyren elemental control, and Sangor blood manipulation."
He didn't mention the other two races: the Naruun with their animal bonds and the Olkhar themselves with their gift of adaptation. These were considered secondary gifts, rarely manifesting even in the most talented individuals.
"I understand my responsibilities," Karel said solemnly.
Rael's expression softened slightly. "It's not just about responsibility, Karel. The gifts are a blessing, a connection to the diverse powers that make Inhevaen unique. They are to be celebrated, not merely shouldered as a burden."
There was something in his uncle's tone — a hint of concern, perhaps even worry — that caught Karel's attention. "Is there something specific I should be prepared for? Something you're not telling me?"
Rael hesitated, an unusual moment of uncertainty for the typically decisive regent. "The Awakening is... different for everyone. Especially for those of royal blood. Your father's Awakening was particularly... intense."
This was new information. Karel leaned forward eagerly. "How so?"
"The resonance between him and the obelisks was stronger than usual. The light of manifestation was brighter, the energy discharge more powerful." Rael's gaze grew distant, as if seeing the event again in his mind. "For a moment, it seemed as if the Dome itself was responding directly to him, not just through the obelisks."
"And you think my Awakening might be similar?"
Rael refocused on Karel, his expression carefully neutral once more. "It's possible. You share his blood, his lineage. Just... be prepared for anything. And remember your training. Control is essential during the manifestation process."
The conversation shifted to more practical matters after that — the schedule for the morning, the other young Olkhar who would be participating (though in separate ceremonies, as was tradition for the royal line), the witnesses who had gathered. But Karel's mind kept returning to what his uncle had revealed about his father's Awakening.
The Dome responding directly. What did that mean? And why had Rael never mentioned it before?
As the evening wore on, other elders came to pay their respects and offer traditional blessings for the ceremony ahead. Among them was Tharolis, the ancient Olkhar who would oversee Karel's Awakening. His face was a map of wrinkles, his eyes cloudy with age, but there was a vitality to him that belied his apparent frailty.
"Young Karel," he greeted, his voice surprisingly strong. "The eve of your Awakening is upon us. Are you prepared to receive the gifts of your ancestors?"
"I am, Elder Tharolis," Karel replied with the formal response.
The old man studied him intently, much as Rael had earlier, but with a different quality to his gaze — less searching, more... knowing. As if he already saw something in Karel that others did not.
"The Dome has been restless of late," Tharolis said, the non sequitur catching Karel off guard. "Its song changes, becomes more urgent. Have you noticed?"
Karel felt a chill run down his spine. The Dome's song — the vibration he had felt since childhood, that had grown more discordant and insistent in recent years. How did Tharolis know about that?
"I... yes," he admitted, ignoring the sharp look his uncle gave him. "I've felt it. Heard it, almost."
Tharolis nodded, as if this confirmed something important. "Listen carefully tomorrow, young Karel. The Dome speaks to those who know how to hear it. And sometimes, very rarely, it sings for one specific soul." He placed a gnarled hand on Karel's shoulder. "Sleep well. Tomorrow will be... illuminating."
With that statement, the elder departed, leaving Karel with even more questions than before.
Later, alone in the small tent assigned to him, Karel found sleep elusive. The Dome's song seemed louder here on the mountain, closer somehow. Its rhythm had changed again, becoming almost anticipatory, as if it too was waiting for the ceremony.
When he finally did drift off, the dreams came immediately — more vivid than ever before.
He stood in the Awakening Circle, but he was alone. No elders, no witnesses, not even his uncle. The seven obelisks glowed with an inner light, each a different color representing its corresponding race. The runes on the central platform beneath his feet also glowed, forming patterns he couldn't understand but somehow recognized.
Above, the sky was not the star-filled expanse he had seen before sleeping, but a swirling vortex of energy — the Dome itself, visible and tangible. It pulsed in time with his heartbeat, or perhaps his heart was pulsing in time with it. The distinction seemed meaningless.
A voice spoke, not in words but in sensations, impressions that formed meaning in his mind:
The time comes. The Bearer awakens. The choice approaches.
"What choice?" Karel asked the swirling sky. "What am I supposed to bear?"
In response, the vortex descended, a tendril of pure energy reaching down toward him. As it touched his forehead, pain and ecstasy shot through him simultaneously. He felt as if he was being torn apart and reassembled.
And then he was no longer alone in the circle. A figure stood before him — the same indistinct shape from his previous dreams, but clearer now. It was a man, tall and silver- haired, with features that Karel recognized from his own reflection.
"Father?" he gasped.
The figure nodded, but when he spoke, his voice was strange — layered, as if multiple voices were speaking in unison.
"The Dome is breaking, Karel. And when it falls, everything changes. Including you." "I don't understand," Karel pleaded. "Tell me what to do."
His father — or the entity wearing his father's form — reached out, placing a hand over Karel's heart.
"Listen beyond the silence," he said, echoing the words from Karel's childhood. "The song will guide you."
The figure began to fade, becoming transparent.
"Wait!" Karel called. "Don't go!"
"The three shall meet where shadows fall," the fading figure said. "The Bearer, the Word, the Broken Bond. Together, they will face the truth."
And then Karel was alone again, the circle empty save for himself and the swirling vortex above. The tendril of energy still connected to his forehead began to pulse more rapidly, the sensation building to an unbearable intensity.
Just as it reached its peak, Karel awoke with a gasp, sitting bolt upright in his tent. His body was drenched in sweat, his heart racing as if he'd run up the mountain rather than merely dreamed.
Outside, the first light of dawn was breaking over the eastern horizon. The day of his Awakening had arrived.
Karel rose and prepared himself methodically, trying to focus on the practical tasks at hand rather than the disturbing dream. He washed in the cold mountain stream, letting the shock of the water clear his mind. He dressed in the ceremonial garments that had been provided — simple white robes embroidered with silver thread that caught the early morning light.
As he emerged from his tent, he found the encampment already bustling with activity. Attendants rushed about, making final preparations. Other young Olkhar — those who would undergo their own ceremonies later in the day — gathered in small groups, their expressions a mixture of excitement and apprehension.
Karel spotted his uncle speaking with Elder Tharolis and several other members of the Council. Rael noticed him and gestured for him to approach.