Chapter 7:
The celebration within the Hall of Light had softened into quiet murmurs. The crowd had thinned. Most of the 101 who didn't pass were already being gently escorted toward the Path of Service.
But Kurosawa remained in place, staring at the glowing silver panel where his cousin's name had appeared—not in green like his own, but in that quiet, humbling silver that meant redirection.
Across the room, Kurosawa stood alone beneath a column of white light, hands behind his back, watching the tree of spirit roots pulse with silent wisdom.
Don approached slowly.
For once, the normally chatty Don didn't know what to say.
"You're quiet," Kurosawa said without turning. His voice was calm. Not bitter. Just… real.
Don stepped beside him.
"I didn't want it to be this way," Don said.
Kurosawa offered a soft smile, still staring ahead. "Neither did I. But I think the Empire knew what I couldn't admit yet."
Silence fell between them.
"You've always been the stronger one, Kurosawa," Don said. "The focused one. The disciplined one. You were the reason I even believed we could get this far."
Kurosawa chuckled. "You were the heart, Don. I was the steps—you were the rhythm."
Don finally laughed through his nose, eyes wet. "What does that even mean?"
"It means," Kurosawa turned to him, his eyes sharp but warm, "that even if I don't stand in the Gate of Light, I know my rhythm still moves forward through you."
Don's throat tightened.
"I just… I thought we'd reach the top together. Ride out of here as a duo. Be legends—Don and Kurosawa, the Centaur Brothers."
Kurosawa clapped a hand on Don's shoulder.
"We are legends," he said. "Just not in the way we imagined. The Empire chose your soul for now. Mine still has more to understand."
Don lowered his eyes. "I'm afraid of walking forward without you."
Kurosawa stepped closer, pressing his forehead to Don's.
"You're not walking forward without me, cousin. You're carrying me with you."
A moment passed. Unspoken emotions surged between them—gratitude, grief, respect.
Then Kurosawa smirked.
"And don't forget," he added, stepping back, "if you mess up in there, I'll still be outside cracking jokes and saying I taught you better."
Don finally burst into a genuine laugh, wiping a tear from his cheek.
"I'll make you proud," he said.
Kurosawa turned, walking toward the archway where the Path of Service candidates were assembling. Before vanishing into the crowd, he raised one fist.
"You already have."
⸻
🜂 The Ceremony
The 31 chosen candidates were summoned to the center hall of the B Empire.
There, standing before them, were the Four Kings—the rulers of the North, South, East, and West.
"You are the ones whose minds, bodies, and spirits align," one King announced.
"You are not just warriors. You are legacy-bearers."
Each of them was marked with their spiritual emblem, now glowing faintly on their bodies.
Then, to everyone's surprise…
"You will each receive a personal invitation to train under one of us," the West King said. "But first… you will rest. And celebrate."
The lights dimmed.
Music rose.
Tables of food and drink appeared, summoned by advanced tech.
And for the first time in weeks, the chosen were not tested or judged—but simply… welcomed.
Don looked up at the ceiling. "For you, Ariane. For all of us."
Suthra danced barefoot across the floor, smiling wider than ever.
Nate toasted with water instead of wine. "To balance."
Solla sat quietly, hands together, whispering a prayer of thanks.
Van Staden stood alone, watching, and finally allowed himself… to smile.
⸻
Heartwarming Twist: The Final Bell
Just as the candidates were preparing to depart, a deep, melodic chime echoed across the crystal dome. It wasn't mechanical—it felt spiritual, as though the land itself was singing.
A panel opened in the center of the hall. From it rose a silver tree with translucent leaves and pulsing light.
Then came a voice. Not a robotic one. Not even one from the Kings.
"To those who did not pass—know this: you are not rejected. You are redirected. Every soul has its own season to bloom."
Suddenly, the names of the 101 eliminated candidates reappeared—not in red… but in silver.
"You are invited to the Path of Service: a sacred role of protectors, healers, and builders who support the Empire's foundation."
The room gasped. Murmurs of confusion turned to awe.
Suthra's eyes lit up. "They're not sending them away… They're keeping them."
Don turned to Ariane, who stood beside Kurosawa, still wiping away quiet tears.
"You're staying?" he asked her.
She nodded, voice cracking slightly.
"They've offered me a place in the Healing Corps. I'll learn to use my energy to treat wounded soldiers. I won't wear a crown… but I'll save those who do."
Don smiled through his tears.
"I think you passed after all, Sistah."
⸻
🜂 The 31 Step Forward
As the 31 chosen candidates began walking toward the Gate of Light, where their formal induction into the B Empire would begin, they each turned back—just once.
Solla turned and gave a small wave to a younger boy from Asya who hadn't passed.
Nate clutched his emblem and muttered a prayer for every soul who walked away today.
Van Staden looked at the departing candidates—then closed his eyes, silently honoring their journey.
And Don?
He turned back to Ariane and Kurosawa—his family.
He placed his hand over his emblem.
"I'll make you proud," he said quietly.
"Not because I passed—but because I never forgot you."
⸻
🜂 And So It Begins…
The Gate of Light pulsed with radiant energy.
As the 31 walked through, they were met by the Four Kings—cloaked in regal garments, each glowing with the aura of their domain.
The doors shut behind the chosen.
But no one was left behind.
Not really.
Because for the first time, every path—whether chosen or redirected—was lit with purpose.
⸻
TO BE CONTINUED…