Dinner was a quiet affair.
They ate in the private dining room, an intimate space with a rectangular table designed for conversation and warmth. The meal was hearty—roasted fowl, dry-aged steaks, spiced vegetables, mashed potatoes, multi-layered cakes, and a 20-year-old red wine for the adults; an apple juice for the child.
"So," Regius said, cutting at his medium-rare steak. "Is it true? Did you really fail the son of Duke Norvinus last week?"
Berick chuckled, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "News travels fast. Yes. The boy had a Sovereign Grade ego but a pimpsqueak of a will. He tried to cheat the summoning ritual."
"How exactly did he try doing it?"
"He used a relic the Norvinus found in the ruins in their domain. It could increase the capacity of the user's Soul Palace, in theory, allowing a higher-tier summon to occupy it."
"You can do that?"
"No. Which is why he ended up with a low-grade leech summon. A fitting partner for a parasite."
"That will set House Norvinus back a generation," Magnus said with a hearty laugh. "Serves them right."
"They're like cockroaches. They'll live for another day." Berick waved a hand. "But tomorrow isn't about them. It's about you, Regius. Three years of waiting."
Regius paused, his fork hovering over his plate. "Most nobles bond when they're twelve, you know. People talk."
"Let them," Lucine said. She reached over, covering Regius's hand with hers. "You weren't ready at twelve, Regius. Your energy density was too high. And your Soul Palace couldn't keep up with it. Vast, but scattered. If we had forced the ritual then, the pressure would have fractured it."
"The delay wasn't a failure, lad," Berick added. "It actually benefits you more. Your capacity has doubled since then. You aren't going into that circle as a child. You also have a lot more experience now."
Regius looked up, seeing the confidence in their faces. "Do you... do you think I'll get an Elemental? Like Father's?"
"An Elemental implies raw power and nature. But you have your mother's cunningness. Perhaps a Divine?"
"Or a Beast," Lucine suggested. "Something loyal. Something that never leaves your side."
"Whatever answers the call," Regius said, reciting the lesson he had memorized. "I will accept it."
"That is the right mindset," Berick said. He looked at his watch. "I should inspect the Sanctum one last time before the sun sets. Calibration is delicate work."
"I'll go with you," Magnus said, standing up.
"Regius," Lucine said. "Why don't you go to the library? Review the books. I'll join you shortly for tea."
Regius nodded. He watched the three adults leave the room—his father and Berick talking in low tones, his mother walking beside his father. They looked like a wall. A united front that nothing in the world could break.
He felt safe. Loved.
———
He went to the library for some time and got bored as soon as Lucine left after bringing tea.
Regius wandered out to the balcony overlooking the estate. The sun had set, and the night sky stretched out above him, a canvas of infinite black scattered with diamond dust.
Leaning against the railing, he looked up. Stargazing had become a favorite pastime of his; there was a sense of serenity staring at the night sky. He had always felt a strange pull when he looked at the stars. A resonant hum in his mind. A gentle pressure behind his eyes.
Whenever he gazed at the constellations in the sky, he felt as if something up there was looking back. Waiting.
Especially Polaris, who feels like an anchor to him.
"Nervous?"
Regius turned. Berick was standing in the doorway, holding two mugs of steaming cocoa.
"A little."
Berick walked over and handed him a mug. "That's good. Nerves keep you sharp. The arrogant ones are the ones who break faster."
"Hot cocoa with marshmallows?"
"I know you've loved them since you were little."
Regius smiled, staring at the floating pieces of marshmallows. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the automated lights of the perimeter fence flicker slightly.
"Uncle Berick?"
"Yeah, kid?"
"Does it hurt?" Regius asked quietly. "The Rite. The books say it's an attrition, but... what does that mean?"
Berick took a sip of his cocoa. He didn't lie. That wasn't his way.
"It hurts, Regius. Imagine you've been living in a room your whole life with the curtains drawn, only a small table light illuminating it. The Rite throws the curtains open and forces you to stare at the sun. It hurts. It burns. It blinds. It will be the most painful experience of your life."
Regius gripped the railing.
"But, it is also the most beautiful thing you will ever feel. Because for the first time, you aren't alone in your own head. You hear a voice that understands you perfectly. The pain... it's just the friction of two souls becoming one."
"Two souls…"
"Your father believes in you. Your mother believes in you. And I've seen thousands of initiates, Regius. I know the look of a successful one. You have it. How long you can endure, it's entirely up to you."
Regius looked up at the man he admired more than anyone save his parents and grandfather.
"I won't let you down, Uncle."
"You couldn't if you tried," Berick smiled. "Now, get to bed. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life."
Regius went to his room.
He laid out his ritual clothes for the morning. He brushed his teeth. Sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the family portrait on his nightstand—him, his parents, and Berick, all smiling at the last summer vacation.
His heartbeat relaxed. His shoulders loosened. He was ready to meet his future bond.
He turned off the lamp and lay back in the dark, watching the stars through his skylight.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, everything begins.
He slept soundly, wrapped in the safety of the Palace, unaware that the boy who woke up in this bed tomorrow would never return to it. The Rite was coming. And it would take everything.