The cathedral's towering spires seemed to pierce the heavens, their golden tips shimmering under the morning sun. Inside, the air was dense with anticipation, thick with the scent of incense and whispers of curiosity. Rows of nobles clad in opulent silks sat in silence, their gazes fixed on the ornate altar bathed in soft light. The imperial capital rarely witnessed an event of such significance, and today, all eyes were on the youngest daughter of Duke Lorian Briston.
Khione stood near the rear of the chamber, her small hands clutching the hem of her silver dress. The garment sparkled faintly, complementing the cascade of silver hair that framed her youthful face. She shifted nervously on her feet, her azure eyes darting between her father and mother, who stood tall and composed by her side.
This was the day every noble child both dreaded and yearned for: the magical awakening.
At the age of five, every child in the empire underwent a divine ritual to discover their magical affinity. The ritual determined not only their future but also their worth in the eyes of society. Magic was the lifeblood of the Asterios Empire, woven into its culture, politics, and economy.
The rankings of magic were simple yet unyielding:
• Common Affinities: Fire, Water, Air, and Earth. The most widespread, essential for daily life but mundane in the grand scheme.
• Rare Affinities: Plant, Ice, Steam, and Sound. Coveted for their versatility and the prestige they brought.
• Epic Affinities: Lava, Lightning, Metal, Venom, and Illusion. Powers of legend, wielded by warriors and mages of great renown.
• Legendary Affinities: Light, Shadow, Crystal, and Arcane. Rarely seen and often the mark of divine favor.
• Mystical Affinities: Time, Space, and Fate. These were myths more than reality—spoken of in hushed tones and recorded in ancient texts as powers wielded by gods.
Khione was too young to fully grasp the gravity of the ritual, but she understood enough. Nobility carried expectations, and in the Briston family—an emblem of the empire's strength—mediocrity was not an option.
The priest's voice boomed, silencing the crowd. "Khione Briston, daughter of Duke Lorian Briston and Duchess Elara Briston, step forward."
Her heart raced as her mother gently guided her forward with a reassuring touch on her shoulder. The aisle seemed impossibly long as Khione walked toward the altar. The whispers of the gathered nobles were drowned out by the thundering beat of her heart.
The stage was marble, its intricate carvings of celestial bodies glowing faintly in the dim light. At its center stood a pedestal engraved with symbols older than the empire itself. The priest, draped in ceremonial robes adorned with golden runes, gestured for her to kneel.
She obeyed, her tiny knees pressing against the cool marble as she looked up at the priest. His hands, weathered by time and countless rituals, hovered above her head as he began to chant.
The words were foreign, ancient, resonating with a power that seemed to vibrate through the very stones of the cathedral. Khione shut her eyes tightly, her small fingers curling into fists as the air around her began to shift.
A sudden chill swept through the chamber, and the candles flickered violently. Gasps rippled through the crowd as the light began to change, taking on a blueish hue that seemed to emanate from nowhere and everywhere all at once.
Then, the air shimmered.
Shapes began to form—cogs and gears, faint and translucent, materializing in the space around her. They turned and clicked in perfect harmony, their motion accompanied by a soundless rhythm. The ethereal machinery was mesmerizing, a sight that none present had ever witnessed before.
The priest faltered in his chant, his eyes widening as he stepped back. The crowd was silent now, held captive by the unfolding phenomenon.
And then it appeared.
A massive clock, its face suspended in midair, golden hands spinning wildly as though measuring the passage of countless lifetimes. The intricate markings on its surface glowed with an otherworldly light, and for a moment, time itself seemed to stand still.
Khione felt the weight of it, an overwhelming force pressing down on her as if the universe itself had acknowledged her presence.
With a final pulse of light, the clock vanished, the cogs dissolving into nothingness. The room was plunged into silence once more, broken only by the labored breaths of those who had borne witness.
The priest stumbled backward, his voice trembling. "Mystical… Time magic…"
Gasps erupted from the crowd, followed by a wave of murmurs and exclamations. Khione turned her head slightly, catching sight of her parents. Her mother's hand was pressed to her lips, tears glistening in her eyes, while her father stood motionless, his expression unreadable.
Time magic. A power spoken of only in legends. A power that had not been awakened in centuries.
Khione looked down at her small hands, flexing her fingers as if she could grasp the power that now coursed through her veins. She didn't fully understand what had just happened, but she could feel it—an ancient, immutable force that was now a part of her.
The cathedral remained suspended in awe, the echoes of the ritual lingering in the sacred space. Slowly, the priest regained his composure and turned to the gathered nobles.
"Today," he announced, his voice carrying both reverence and disbelief, "we have witnessed a miracle. The Asterios Empire's future shines brighter than ever before."
As Khione rose to her feet, the weight of a thousand expectations settled on her shoulders. The whispers of the crowd grew louder, but she paid them no mind. Her gaze drifted to the stained-glass window above, where light filtered through in hues of blue and gold.
In the depths of her mind, something stirred—a quiet resolve, unshaken by the world's gaze.