"Your Majesty, the preparations are complete," they announced solemnly, their words echoing through the grand hall.
As the head Grandmaster's words reverberated through the vaulted chamber, settling into a thickened silence, Felrith's mind was consumed with a single thought:
'There's nothing I can do…'
- - - -
FOLLOWING TRUE, the event preceded, as the Grandmasters' words incited the hall to buzz with chatter and murmurs of excitement; everyone eager to witness the young prince's extraordinary display of magical prowess.
The same could not be said, however, of the young prince in question. A mix of nervousness and fear still lingered, if not increasing, as he struggled to keep his posture upright and confident though he was shaken. His heart pounded in his chest; its rhythm akin to horse hooves thundering in a large battalion.
But then, a profound stillness fell upon him as a magical light suddenly emanated from the intricately etched runes on the floor.
Whispers rose and he heard the distant voices of the bellowing grandmasters, though Felrith paid them no heed, for he was preoccupied with what was occurring directly in front of him.
Swirling mists of vibrant colors rose upwards, resembling mushroom spores releasing puffs of gas—only these 'clouds' were massive, wisp-like gusts that howled and wailed, giving an otherworldly ambiance to the ceremony.
Bearing the brunt of the wailing sound, Felrith pressed on, holding his bleeding ears while closing his eyes and taking deep breaths; an attempt to steady himself. And in stark contrast to him, the entire room appeared captivated, fixated on the ethereal scene unfolding before it—as if the onlookers feared missing even the slightest detail.
And indeed, they had reason to be fearful, for in the next moment, the puffed gas of pure mana underwent a mesmerizing transformation.
The vibrant hued wisps crystallized into breathtaking shards of elegantly shining glass; metamorphosing into an unpredictable and chaotic array of floating glass that radiated with a rainbow of mana-induced light, which gently revolved around the young prince.
The swirling masterpiece of mana exuded a serene yet immensely powerful aura permeating the room and enveloping those present... though for Felrith... it was anything but serene!
His eyes, which had been tightly shut, shot open in a strained manner, and his breath, once erratic, became heavy and nearly unbreathable. Even more so in the next second, for the wisps of mana, now transformed into smoky tendrils, flew towards him with ominous intent.
They silky colored light and ethereal gassy tendrils invaded his body, suffocating his mouth and coursing through his veins like an electric current of seemingly liquid power. Furthermore, the mana-induced light filtered into his eyes, blocking, and blinding his vision in a swirling rainbow panel of light, scorching his eyes in a never-ending burning sensation.
Amidst this overwhelming surge of magic, Felrith felt as though he was drowning in a river of pure power; struggling to breathe in such an ensconced environment where the air was too potent for mortal or immortal alike... pain was but a distant feeling, for tortuous agony littered his body and mind.
His consciousness teetered on the edge, and in this state, he found himself unconsciously reaching out with his mind to the mana-filled environment around him. Desperate to grasp at the elusive threads of magic within and outside, he sought to quell their rageful and tumultuous mana. Attempting to bring some semblance of control to the chaotic torrent of mana that ravished his body.
Following his internal struggle, flickers of colorful light spread, brightening not only the room but the entire castle, stretching out into the capital city and beyond... until they suddenly waned.
As the once dazzling display of magic flickered one last time, the young prince, still locked in a fierce mental battle against the overwhelming current of power, became visible once more to the crowd.
The gasps that echoed through the crowd were audible, as they watched in shock and awe, their jaws dropping and their eyes widening in amazement. They were currently witnessing an awakening of unprecedented magnitude, an enchanting display that would put all previous awakenings to shame.
Seconds turned to minutes, and the crowd watched with bated breath, as Felrith stood still with his brow furrowed in pain and confusion.
However, contrary to what they had anticipated, after stretching out minutes to tens of minutes, there was no grand display following the transformative spectacle of awakening. No triumphant moment of dazzling power graced the room, and there wasn't even a hint of a mediocre amount of mana exuding from Felrith...
In that moment of somber realization, the mana that had surged so brilliantly only moments ago began to evaporate—dispersing in billowing gusts upwards and downwards, the iridescent mana disintegrated into thin air.
An eerie silence fell.
Profound disappointment settled in.
The crowd stood stunned, grappling with unmet expectations, and the magic that promised brilliance retreated. All that remained in the wake of the failed awakening were the young prince's gnawing screams, hoarsely screeching like a dying animal as he lay on the raised obsidian.
His appearance mirrored his agony, for he writhed on the ground, contorted on all fours, as his shaky limbs spazzed uncontrollably. All the while, colorful liquid, reminiscent of the mana that had swirled in the air moments ago, violently hurled out of his mouth in constant, agonizing heaves.
The scene was a stark contrast to the grand spectacle they had expected, and just witnessed, leaving the crowd bewildered. Disappointment washed over the once-amazed onlookers as the mana-filled, wispy-colored air cleared, revealing the blatant reality that had eluded no one—Felrith's awakening had not gone as expected…
The King's once joyous expression was now hardened with disappointment, mirroring the shock evident on all faces. However, these freely expressed emotions were swiftly overtaken by a fervent sense of disgust that spread among higher-ranking nobles, dignitaries, and spies from other lands. Even those who represented lands who had entered into the Soul Pact with the young prince shared this feeling of utter revulsion.
These prominent individuals didn't bother masking their expressions of contempt and ridicule, setting themselves apart from the majority of nobles who held lower influence and power. The latter group exchanged nervous glances, unsure of how to react to this unexpected turn of events.
The tension in the air was palpable while the crowd grappled with the aftermath of the unexpected outcome.
Meanwhile, Lath'Or and the Queen, who had initially displayed expressions of shock and happiness, now appeared visibly concerned and panicked. There was no ethereal screen floating above Felrith, and not even a hint of mana could be felt emanating from the young prince...
It was undeniable.
Felrith's lack of magical status... had now branded him as an 'Unawakened'—a label commonly found across many realms, but within influential families of most races, though especially the Elvish, was an undisputed rarity; not to mention, a most disgraceful thing.
There were no exceptions and no mercy for individuals of their stature.
While untalented or non-magically gifted children might find acceptance elsewhere, for an unawakened individual of royal blood, let alone a prince, it was unheard of. Only common folk and Elvish slaves were unawakened, and they were considered the lowest of the low...
The weight of this revelation settled over the room, casting a pall of disbelief, especially among those who had held such high hopes for Felrith's awakening.
The once-celebratory atmosphere had transformed into one of somber contemplation, as the harsh reality of Felrith's status seeped into all. And so, the Sil'Avaris Kingdom found itself in a situation that it never imagined possible.
Felrith's lack of magical awakening was not only an embarrassment to him and the royal family. It also reflected poorly on the entire Kingdom and his mother, Queen Felroria.
The revelation of Felrith's unawakened status sent shockwaves through the realm, leaving the court and its subjects stunned.
The prestige and status associated with being a royal, especially an Elvish prince, had now been tarnished for Felrith. As well as the one who bore him, for the implications of this unprecedented circumstance weighed heavily on the young prince's mother, the Queen.
She, too, was unsure of how to deal with the consequences of the failed awakening.
In silence, the crowd and various onlookers from the realm and kingdom watched on as the young prince continued to writhe on the ground.
His agonizing movements then came to a halt. Felrith in this moment, freed from the agonizing torment of the ritual, felt the weight of disappointment settle heavily upon his small shoulders.
Even with his senses distorted and ringing and his eyes completely shut... he knew.
He knew instinctively that he had failed... miserably.
During the awakening, Felrith felt the sweet taste of power coursing through his veins, continuously swelling within him. It was painful beyond words, that was no lie, but it was an ecstasy in its own form.
The flow of mana seemed endless, and when that moment came, his greed for power knew no bounds.
He was in control... but wasn't. Felrith felt like something buried deep within him suddenly lashed out, sinking its fangs into the source of unlimited mana. And so, as the power surged within him, he felt himself swelling like a balloon. However, the consequences of such an outrageous amount of mana filtering into his untrained and undeveloped core became apparent.
It couldn't be contained.
It was too late to stop at that point.
The damage had been done.
Irreversibly.
What followed was only natural; his magical core reached its limit and could no longer withstand the overwhelming force, causing it to pop and shatter…
And it was in that brief moment before oblivion that Felrith became acutely aware that nothing would ever be the same. While Felrith had previously believed that magic wasn't everything, he now understood the same could not be said in his position—a position of power, now marred by failed expectations...
The deadly silence that followed the spectacle gave way to hushed yells of outrage and ridicule. The words 'Unawakened' were mingled with 'Cripple,' and each time he heard them, they stung like venomous arrows, hitting deep within his fragile self-esteem.
Time seemed to slow, and in the face of such harsh judgment, his once joyful, curious, and childish demeanor was now replaced by a complex swirl of emotions.
Inadequacy and failure couldn't begin to cover what he felt. Neither could self-doubt or self-hate, and neither could depression, sadness, anger, or even hate to describe the overwhelming turmoil within him.
The weight of his unawakened status and the scornful judgment of those around him crushed his spirit and cast a shadow over his young heart. It was at this turning point in his life that he became lost and vulnerable.
This was the moment when his fall from notoriety began.
Thus, leading him down a path where he would continue to grapple with remnants of his former self and struggle to come to terms with his reality. Although he didn't know that then.
In this moment of time, all Felrith felt was isolation.
It was as if this emotion of isolation not only pressed down upon his mind and emotions, but also resonated within his soul itself.
The weight of this immense isolation bore down upon him, shrouding him in a suffocating solitude; a feeling of being distanced, as he instantly felt disconnected from everything and everyone, trapped in a bubble of isolation that he couldn't escape.
With those feelings washing over him, the room fell into awkward silence as the initial outrage and disbelief wore off. Through it all, the young prince fought back tears, while his face was buried in the ground. His body, aching and riddled with pain, yearned for rest, and slumber was just a blink away.
And, though, he resisted it at first, clinging to a glimmer of hope that something would change or that he was mistaken in his instinctive assessment; deep down, he knew that in this moment meant to mark his path forward, it had indeed marked his path... but it had veered him in the wrong direction and with unintended and unescapable consequences.
With disappointment flooding his veins, a numbness spread throughout him like a suffocating fog—a feeling no child should experience. Felrith succumbed to the numbing weight of it all, allowing the sweet embrace of darkness to take hold of him.
And while he drifted off into his mind, he begged repeatedly not to wake up; Felrith feared the repercussions of his failure and the harsh judgement that awaited him.
Thus, he let go, drifting into unconsciousness... letting the world dissolve around him.
Though amidst the fading echoes of a few indistinguishable shouts as sleep beckoned him, Felrith could hear the panic-stricken and loving voice of his mother desperately calling out to him. "FELRITH—"
But it was too late.
It was far too late.
Darkness had already engulfed him.
In more ways than one could imagine...
Darkness had already engulfed him.