The Manifestation Hall was a place of beginnings and endings. It was where dreams took their first, hesitant breaths—and, occasionally, where they gasped their last.
This vast, vaulted chamber was the heart of the Royal Academy, its ceiling adorned with murals depicting summoners of ages past. Their familiars loomed above in a parade of majesty: titanic dragons, radiant phoenixes, and shadowed beasts whose very forms seemed to rebel against being contained by mere paint. Beneath these celestial figures, first-year students like myself stood in rows, dwarfed by both the murals and the weight of our expectations.
This was the moment of awakening.
For every summoner, the first ritual was a singular event, intertwining two threads of fate: the manifestation of the grimoire, the summoner's eternal companion and the measure of their potential, and the summoning of their first familiar, the creature bound to their will.
Grimoires were more than mere books. They were the crystallization of a summoner's talent, a reflection of their soul given form. But grimoires were patient things. They waited until their summoner reached the age of sixteen, until the body had matured enough to channel the mana needed to call them forth. Before then, there were only fleeting glimpses of talent, imperfect measurements as murky as a scrying pool muddied by an overeager apprentice.
There were signs, of course, hints of what kind of summoner a person might become: an affinity for living beings, the ability to manipulate mana with finesse, an instinctive bond with the forces of the world.
I failed at all of them.
It wasn't a loud, dramatic failure either. There had been no explosions, no tragic mishaps. Just the quiet, gnawing realization that, no matter how hard I tried, the answers were always just beyond my reach. My father, a Gold-grade summoner whose name carried weight throughout the Kingdom of Thane, had resigned himself to disappointment. He would be content, he said, if I manifested a Silver-grade grimoire. His tone, however, implied that "content" was a synonym for "relieved."
Kael, my twin brother, did not share my struggles. He was the golden child, both figuratively and—if the murals of ancient summoners were anything to go by—possibly literally. My father spoke of him in tones reserved for kings and legends. A Gold-grade grimoire was the expectation for Kael. Diamond, he said once, almost wistfully, would be a worthy aspiration. I doubted even Kael believed that; summoners of Diamond grade weren't found in Kingdoms like Thane. They were the province of Empires, where history was written in flame and shadow, and where human frailty was buried beneath the weight of unimaginable power.
Still, Kael carried the family's pride on his shoulders, and he bore it effortlessly.
I carried little more than my doubts.
The instructor's voice rang out, sharp and echoing in the hall. "Step forward, one by one. The mana circle will respond to your call. It will summon your first familiar and manifest your grimoire. Remember, both are a reflection of who you are."
I suppressed the urge to laugh. 'A reflection of who I am?' What sort of reflection would I produce? A chipped mirror, perhaps, or a tarnished blade, dull and unremarkable. I looked at Kael, standing two rows ahead, his back straight and his silver hair catching the light like polished steel. The mana circle would sing for him, of course. It would roar.
I glanced down at my hands, clenched so tightly the knuckles had turned white. What would it do for me? Whisper, perhaps, or murmur apologetically before sputtering out entirely.
The world of summoning revolved around mana, the energy that humanity alone among the sentient species of the world could wield. It was both a gift and a limitation. Of the three great energies—mana, miasma, and divine energy—humans could naturally wield only mana. It was their lifeblood, their lifeline, and their prison.
That didn't mean humans were entirely barred from the other energies. Miasma and divine beasts could be summoned, their powers bound to a summoner's will. But such beings were rare, elusive, and often temperamental. The odds of summoning one were slim. For most humans, mana beasts were the beginning and the end of their summoning potential.
My father's Jade Dragon was an Omega Luminara Mana Beast, a creature of overwhelming strength and majesty. A Gold-grade grimoire had allowed him to summon it, and it had solidified his place among the kingdom's elite. For all his flaws, my father was a symbol of power, the kind of summoner whose name echoed through the halls of the academy even now.
Kael would likely follow in his footsteps. The same murals that dwarfed me seemed to frame him perfectly, as if the artists of centuries past had anticipated his arrival. And me? Well, if I was lucky, I wouldn't embarrass myself.
The line inched forward. One by one, students stepped into the glowing circle at the center of the hall. The mana pulsed with each summoning, a living thing responding to the will of its master. Most grimoires gleamed with Bronze light, others with the silver glow that drew gasps and applause. Each familiar emerged with a flash of light and energy, the bonds forming as naturally as breathing.
My turn was coming.
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stand straight and hold my head high. If my grimoire was to be a tarnished blade, then so be it. I would wield it with steady hands, no matter how feeble its edge.
Kael was the first to step forward, of course. He strode to the center of the Manifestation Hall with all the confidence in the world gleaming in his sharp blue eyes. Every movement was precise, deliberate, like an actor taking his place on the grandest stage imaginable. He didn't just belong here—he owned it.
The crowd stilled as Kael raised his hands, responding to the instructor's nod. The air itself seemed to hold its breath. Mana pulsed around him, a rhythm that quickened with every heartbeat, swirling into a tangible force. Then, with a flash of light, his grimoire appeared, coalescing from his very essence.
Golden.
The gilded glow of the tome was unmistakable, a radiance that seemed to outshine the ancient murals on the ceiling. A Gold grimoire. Gasps rippled through the audience, a chorus of awe and envy. Gold grimoires were rare, even in the prestigious Royal Academy. In the Kingdom of Thane, they were rarer still. My father's own Gold grimoire had elevated the House of Veylin from obscurity to power, allowing him to summon beings from the mighty Luminara grade and consolidate his influence.
And now Kael had one too.
I felt my throat tighten as the next part of the ritual began. The mana circle beneath Kael flared with blinding brilliance, its intricate runes coming alive. A ripple of power coursed through the hall, and the air itself seemed to tremble. Then, from the heart of the circle, a being emerged.
The first thing I saw were the scales, impossibly white, like freshly fallen snow glinting under a winter sun. They shimmered with molten gold, a flickering hue that danced across their surface like liquid light. The creature unfurled its wings—vast and majestic, their edges glowing faintly as though dipped in starlight. A tail, sleek and powerful, wagged once with restrained grace. Then, the being lowered its regal head and bowed to Kael.
A dragon.
Not just any dragon. A hush fell over the hall, broken only by the sound of Kael's voice, clear and steady as he read the words etched into his grimoire.
"Prime Luminara Divine Beast: Royal Dragon."
The silence shattered as gasps erupted from the crowd. Whispers spread like wildfire, disbelief and admiration woven together.
A Prime Luminara. Just below the apex of existence, standing on the threshold of the Eterna grade. And not a Mana Beast, as most expected—no, this was a Divine Beast, rarer still, tied to the celestial forces of creation itself.
With this, my brother had surpassed even my father.
I watched, frozen, as the dragon raised its head to meet Kael's gaze. There was something in its eyes—intelligence, pride, a sense of shared purpose. It wasn't merely a summoned creature; it was an extension of Kael's brilliance, a reflection of the potential that everyone had always seen in him.
I should have felt happy for him. Proud, even. But all I could feel was the weight of my own inadequacy pressing down like a leaden shroud. My father's voice echoed in my mind, sharp and unyielding: 'A summoner is only as strong as their grimoire. Don't embarrass the House of Veylin.'
I clenched my fists, trying to steady the tremor in my hands. Kael stood tall, the golden light of his grimoire casting a halo around him, as if the world itself were celebrating his triumph. My brother, the prodigy. The one who bore the family's pride like a crown—and me? I was a shadow at best, an afterthought at worst.
The instructor stepped forward, his expression carefully neutral but his voice betraying just a hint of awe. "Kael Veylin, you have surpassed all expectations. A Gold grimoire and a Prime Luminara Divine Beast... You will bring great honor to your house and to the Royal Academy."
Kael bowed slightly, a gesture of acknowledgment rather than humility. He knew what this meant. Everyone in the hall did. He was already a legend in the making.
And I? I was next in line.
As Kael returned to his place, the murmurs grew louder, each one a knife carving into my resolve. I felt the weight of every gaze in the hall settle on me—some curious, others indifferent, a few pitying. They all expected the same thing: a comparison.
"Next student," the instructor called, his voice echoing off the vaulted ceiling. "Elara Veylin."
My feet felt like lead, but I forced myself to move, one step at a time, toward the center of the hall. The mana circle loomed before me, its runes glowing faintly, waiting. The air here felt heavier, charged with expectation and power.
Kael's dragon watched me as I passed, its molten gold eyes inscrutable. I wondered if it saw me as anything more than another shadow in Kael's wake.
I stepped into the circle and took a deep breath. The process was the same, I reminded myself. It didn't matter who had gone before or who would come after. The mana would respond to me, to my call, to the essence of who I was.
'If my grimoire is to be a tarnished blade,' I thought again, 'then I will wield it with steady hands.'
I raised my arms, and the mana began to stir.