Chapter 3 - The Forgotten Names

The night of Velharest was alive with magic. Banners embroidered with ancient runes fluttered in the wind, suspended mid-air by enchantments, and the flag of Zarion filled the area. The grand plaza at the city's center was overflowing with all sorts of kin—children wrapped in ceremonial cloaks, parents holding their breath, and merchants shouting over the clamor. In the middle of it all floated a crystalline platform held aloft by glowing sigils, where a high-ranking member of the Magic Council stood.Lyra stood just behind the front row, clutching her sister's hand. Beside them were Daphne and Xander, her childhood friends. They had grown up together—except Daphne and Xander were not from the village. They were born and raised here, in Velharest, and the city had always called them its own. Lyra and her sister had arrived early that morning after a long walk to the city, and the reunion had been warm."Lyra!" Daphne had squealed, leaping forward and hugging her tight.Lyra stumbled back with a laugh. "Daphne! You're still as loud as ever.""And you're still tiny," Daphne grinned, tousling her hair. "You nervous?""Terrified," Lyra admitted.Xander, standing tall beside Daphne, nodded in greeting. "Don't worry. We're all in this together."Lyra smiled. "Let's hope they see it that way."The four stood together, shoulders brushing, hope and anxiety burning quietly in their chests.The crowd hushed as the councilor raised her staff, her voice echoing magically over the plaza."Children of all lands," she began, her tone noble, powerful. "Today marks a new dawn—not just for you, but for the realm itself. We seek not only talent but heart, not just magic, but the spirit to wield it wisely."She stepped forward, staff tapping against the enchanted stone."Some of you hail from golden spires, others from forgotten villages... but know this: true magic does not bow to gold or blood—it kneels only to will."With a flick of her hand, glowing names began to appear in the sky, one after another. Each child whose name was called glowed with magical energy, a unique sigil blooming above their head."Auren of East Halem.""Serah of the Twin Isles.""Daphne of House Maelis."A gasp escaped Daphne's lips. Her body shimmered in blue light as her sigil—spiraling silver and azure—formed above her. She looked back at Lyra, her eyes wide with joy."Xander of House Irvane."Cheers erupted. Xander beamed, the crimson-gold of his sigil pulsing proudly. He reached out and gave Lyra's shoulder a squeeze."You're next," he said with a grin.Then came the name Lyra."Lyra... of..."A pause.Confused murmurs rippled through the plaza. The councilor turned to a cloaked aide and whispered. Then she straightened and spoke again."Correction. That name was submitted in error."The glow that had begun to form above Lyra dimmed and vanished. Her heart seized. The warmth in her chest collapsed into a cold void.A second councilor, elderly and sharp-eyed, stepped forward, voice cutting through the silence."For those wondering: not all were accepted. Weak aptitude, poor support, or insufficient mana—these are realities, not tragedies."He sneered slightly. "You cannot fill a goblet with no well."Lyra's sister glared up at the councilor, jaw tight, but said nothing. Lyra couldn't move. Her feet felt nailed to the marble. Daphne and Xander looked back at her, their faces a mix of joy and guilt.Daphne stepped forward, unsure. "Lyra… I—""It's fine," Lyra whispered. "Congratulations."The crowd began to celebrate again. Names, lights, and sigils returned to the air, but the world blurred around Lyra.She turned away.Her sister wordlessly took her hand, and the two slipped through the crowd. Daphne and Xander hesitated but didn't follow.Their journey back to the village was slow and silent. The road that once held hope now carried only weight.When they arrived, the village was quiet—eerily so. No children played. No elders chatted on porches. It was as if the village had turned to stone.The sisters entered their modest home. The air was stale, unmoving. Lyra went straight to her room. She sat on the edge of her bed, stared at her hands, then finally let the tears fall. Her shoulders trembled. Her dream, so close she could almost touch it, had been ripped from her in front of thousands.Far away, in a shadowed alley in Velharest under a crescent moon, two hunched men from the village stood beside the wanted Kin Alligator, a cloaked figure with reptilian skin. The smell of damp stone and smoke lingered in the air.The wanted Kin Alligator pulled a scroll from inside his robe. It shimmered with age, written in a language that shimmered and shifted unnaturally."Use it," the Alligator rasped. "Speak your desire. Make your wish come true."One of the hunched men reached out, hands trembling, took the scroll carefully. "Will... will it really work?" he whispered."If your heart burns more than your fear," the Alligator said. "It will listen.""I don't... I don't have gold. I can't pay you," the second figure mumbled."I didn't ask for gold," the Alligator replied, his voice low. "I asked for belief.""And belief always comes with a cost."The first hunched man looked to the scroll, then back at the Alligator. "What do we do with it?"From the shadows, a female voice whispered, calm and commanding:"Read it aloud. In a girl's voice."The two men looked at each other, fear and hope mingling in their eyes.The scroll glowed faintly, etched in ancient, forgotten language.It had waited too long to be forgotten. And it was ready to be remembered.