"Let them burn in the fog," Eldran says. "When the fire fades — the mist will still be here."
We're at the start of our yearly Second Birth Ritual — and by "we," I mean all the fifteen-year-olds of the barony.
The Second Birth Ritual is the day when the Mind Core we've watched grow inside us finally awakens, and we receive our Spirit Animal. I'll tell you more about Spirit Animals later; let's watch how the ritual continues.
We're in the courtyard of Veilhold Manor — in the mist-covered lands of House Myrvale — where a white chalice burns with majestic golden flames. About thirty people stand in a half-circle around it — the fifteen-year-olds of the barony and their parents.
Behind the chalice stand the elders of the house; the current head of House Myrvale stands at the front, and Eldran — the Sentinel of Grey — beside him. The priest of the Ember Wardens — the Keepers of the Flame — walks up to the chalice, a white metallic torch in hand. Muscular and dressed in all-white robes, he oozes authority, as if he fears nothing. I'm sure he wields at least a Lumen-3 Spirit Animal if not higher.
"Children of flame and flesh, we stand before the flame that never dies. Step forward to be seen by her light. Embrace the unending, and let your spirit awaken from the flames."
The priest raises the torch high, the golden flame painting his robes in light.
"Ex cineribus resurgimus!" he intones — his voice deep, echoing against the stone. From the ashes, we rise.The crowd answers as one, their voices low but steady."And to ashes, we return."
The sound rolls through the mist like distant thunder — reverent, calm, inevitable.
After the exchange, the priest lights the torch from the chalice's flame and calls the first person forward.
The first of us, the son of a farmer, steps forward, hands trembling as the priest lowers the torch. The boy extends his hands toward the torch to scoop up the flame. The golden fire licks his palms, and after a few seconds the flame flows back toward the torch as if it had a mind of its own. What's left behind leaves the boy joyous — a small bird, mostly grey with green streaks. With a lot of luck, it might have some kind of wind attribute. The crowd murmurs softly. Then the next is called.
The son of a wealthy merchant follows. His robe is threaded with gold and pride, and his movements are confident, almost rehearsed, as he cups his hands toward the flame. For a moment, the fire brightens, as if answering his expectation — but it settles quickly. From the glow steps a small fox, its fur a quiet amber, eyes sharp but unassuming. A murmur runs through the crowd, polite but unexcited. The boy forces a smile, bowing slightly before stepping back, the little fox secured in his hands.
One by one, more names are called. The ceremony continues — a steady rhythm of flame and light, of hope and relief. Most awaken small creatures: birds, hounds, or cats. None stand out for long.
Then it's Jin's turn — the butler's son. His hands tremble as he approaches, and I can see his father watching from the edge of the circle, standing even straighter than usual.The flame flickers when Jin reaches for it, as if testing his resolve, before flowing gently into his palms. When it fades, a small grey dog remains — loyal eyes, timid stance, tail low but wagging. Jin exhales shakily and smiles. His father bows to the priest, pride hidden beneath years of restraint. The moment passes quietly, without applause.
Then the priest looks up again, eyes sweeping the circle.
"Zenon of House Myrvale."
Looks like it's my turn — and I have expectations to fulfill.As the firstborn of House Myrvale, I can't just walk away with a Lumen-1 or Lumen-2 Spirit Animal, I could never become the head of our family with those.My mother hasn't slept for a week, worried sick that I might end up with something weak.At least Father didn't worry as much — he always says I have an "outstanding personality," so I'm bound to get something good.But even that wasn't enough to calm Mother down.
As I walk up to the chalice, I finally start to get nervous. A slight chattering in my teeth creeps in, but I manage to suppress it with the conviction to stand proud before the priest — and before my family.
As I reach for the golden flame atop the torch, my hands start to turn cold. The fire seems as if it wants to be as far from me as it can — but I can't afford a mistake in the ritual. I reach forward in a single motion.
The moment my hands touch the flame, the cold vanishes. For an instant, there's only silence — no heat, no pain, just stillness. Then the fire folds in on itself, shrinking until it's nothing more than a golden flicker. A pulse runs through my chest, and in the same breath, grey mist bursts outward — not flowing out, but spreading in an instant, like a silent explosion.
Gasps ripple through the crowd as the fog races across the courtyard, rolling over stone and flesh alike. A few people stumble back instinctively. The whole ceremonial area is now covered in dense silver-grey fog, and I look back at the torch where the flame should reignite. Instead, the golden flame gutters out completely, leaving only the sound of my heartbeat and the whisper of mist fading into the air.
I turn to the priest, looking for an answer, but he just stares at me — his face a mix of shock and disbelief.
Behind the priest, I catch a glimpse of my grandfather Eldran starting to chuckle before he says,"The flame will not like this."
As I hear my grandfather speak, I remember to look at my Spirit Animal — and what I see is more than I could have expected.To think I would get a …