King Farhan turned again to the people, his silver robe rippling slightly in the breeze. His voice, steady as iron, echoed over the plaza.
> "I've shown you control."
"My son has shown you discipline."
"Now I will show you the path forward."
He stepped to the center of the balcony, both hands raised — one human, one of chain — the perfect image of balance between change and command.
> "From this day forth, we will establish Training Centers across Lumisgrave."
"Places where the Awakened can learn. Where you can understand the force flowing through you, rather than fear it."
"Where you will not be judged, but guided."
A low stir rippled through the crowd. People leaned forward. Some touched their own hands — as if wondering what they might become.
Farhan continued.
> "And to encourage you all — to test your limits — to reward those who strive to rise — I announce today…"
> "…that in one month, we will hold a grand event."
He paused.
The square grew silent again.
> "It will be open to anyone above the age of twenty who believes they have learned to control their abilities — whether great or small."
> "There, you will step forward and demonstrate your strength, your will, your gift."
His voice grew deeper, firmer, like a tide rising.
> "And based on your performance… your discipline… your potential…"
> "…you will be ranked."
Gasps.
Excited murmurs.
> "This is not to create division — but to build structure."
> "To recognize the different levels of power, not to create superiority, but to give purpose. Order. Unity."
Julious, standing just behind the King, allowed himself a quiet smile.
Farhan's voice lifted once more.
> "This event… will be called P.R.I.M.E.(POTENTIAL RECOGNITION INITIATION MASTERY AND ELEVATION)"
The word boomed across the plaza like thunder before rain.
People repeated it.
> "P.R.I.M.E…"
"What does it mean?"
"Will I be chosen?"
Farhan raised a hand for quiet, then spoke clearly:
> "You have one month to prepare yourselves."
"One month to train, to focus, to learn the power within you."
> "Whether it is the strength of flame… or the whisper of wind…"
"Whether it is energy, healing, motion, sound, or light…"
"You will show us who you are."
> "Not by what you destroy—" he paused, "—but by what you control."
And then, softer — but with the full weight of a King's oath:
> "Let the people rise. Let the gifted be guided. Let the age of silence end."
> "Let the Era of P.R.I.M.E. begin."
---
The plaza erupted — not with wild chaos, but cheering that felt like thunder made of hearts.
Hands were raised.
Cries rang out.
Even Dormants cheered — not for powers they didn't have, but for the chance to hope again.
> "I'll be there!"
"One month. We have time."
"I don't even know my power yet… but I'll try!"
In the far corners of the crowd, some stood still — quiet, thoughtful — already calculating how they would train, where they would learn.
Even those without powers felt the pull of something larger than themselves.
For the first time since the world began to change…
The people of Lumisgrave had a purpose.
---
Back at the balcony
Kabir stood silently beside his father, stunned not by the announcement — but by the calm certainty in Farhan's voice.
"Do you think they'll be ready?" he asked under his breath.
Farhan looked down at the people. Their eyes, once frightened, now burned with something familiar.
> "Some won't be," the King answered.
"But enough will be. And they will lead the rest."
Kabir looked to the horizon, where Training Centers would soon rise. A new era had begun.
Not of war.
Not of fear.
But of awakening… with direction.
The cheers of the crowd still echoed in the massive plaza of Lumisgrave, but in the midst of the roaring joy, Arslan stood still.
The King's words hadn't just reached the people — they had carved themselves into Arslan's chest like a brand.
"Let the Era of P.R.I.M.E. begin."
That single sentence crackled inside his mind like a match struck in a silent room.
He couldn't tear his eyes away from the balcony, where King Farhan stood tall, the wind brushing back his royal cloak. And beside him, Prince Kabir — the boy who had called lightning without flinching.
Arslan's breath hitched.
His voice came out low, barely audible in the sea of celebration around him.
> "I have to do it..."
He stared down at his own hands. They looked ordinary. Calloused. Worn from helping with carts, from collecting herbs, from pushing through dust and stone. But he knew better now. Knew what had nearly burst free from them when he lost control…
He still remembered the field. The lantern. The sudden surge that poured from him like dark smoke twisting into sharpness. It had felt wrong. Violent. Like something hidden in his chest had broken out without permission.
But now, as the King's words washed over the plaza like the light of dawn, something changed inside him.
> "I have to become more than a commoner..." "More than what I've been..." "I have to train. I have to learn. I have to control it." "I will become stronger."
His voice grew firmer with each word.
The crowd around him had broken into clusters. Some cried from joy. Others shouted names, made plans. A group of young men beside him — once scoffing skeptics — were now already arguing over how to practice and where the first training site might open.
But Arslan barely noticed.
His thoughts were locked inward.
---
He stepped back from the crowd, toward a quieter alley where the cheers thinned into whispers.
Leaning against the wall, he exhaled slowly. The stone was warm behind his back. But inside, he still felt that flicker — the same spark he had felt when the shadow first came.
This time, he didn't push it down.
He let it hum.
A soft sound — like a pulse — behind his ribs. Not painful. Not loud. Just present.
Alive.
> "I'm not like Kabir," he whispered. "I don't have a royal tutor. No palace guards. No scrolls." "But maybe... maybe I don't need them."
He remembered what the King said:
> "Not by what you destroy — but by what you control."
That was the test. That was the path.