The Weight of Kneeling

"Kneel."

The word came from his father, cold and absolute, as the Gods judged who was worthy—and who was nothing.

Caelith gritted his teeth as he was about to do something he had never dreamed of before…

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"Hey, darling, wake up."

A warm, melodic voice travelled through the air.

Caelith's eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the candlelit room.

The familiar scent of human waste lingered in the air, and despite all his efforts to improve the smell of his lodgings, the hue of decrements remained.

Apathetically, he turned his head.

"What is it, Mother?"

"Today's the big day."

Caelith groggily registered what his gentle, exceedingly beautiful mother said.

"Not for me. It's for the 'real children' of the Stormont House." Caelith flatly stated as he sat up in bed and rubbed his obsidian eyes.

With a mischievous smile, Caelith's mother replied tentatively, a tinge of excitement in her voice.

"Well, I put in a good word with your father, and… he has allowed you to participate in the Divine Ceremony."

Snapping his torso upright, Caelith's eyes widened.

"WHAT?!" 

Now wide awake. He stared at his mother, gazing at her raven black hair falling gracefully below her shoulders while her deep, azure eyes lingered on him impatiently. Despite being over 35, her alabaster skin was still taught and smooth. Caelith's mother looked no older than a university student. If it weren't for the harsh bruises adorning her arms and legs, she'd have been akin to an Arctic princess. Her beauty betrayed her status as a powerless, mundane commoner.

Caelith's mother, noticing his stare, quickly pulled her sleeves down. "I had a fall, that's all."

A spark of understanding flowed through Caelith.

Before he could retort, a cold sensation covered his hands, contrasting his warm self.

"Look, Caelith, my son, please do this for me. You know I just want what's best for you." his mother said warmly, holding his hands in hers.

Caelith felt a wave of guilt and hesitated before acquiescing, "I won't let what you've done for me go to waste."

"That's my boy!" Caelith's mother exclaimed in joy.

When Caelith saw that rare look of happiness, her beautiful smile, her blue eyes sparkling—a stark contrast to her usual self—he couldn't help but try his best.

"So… what should I expect from this ceremony?"

"I'm glad you asked." Caelith's mother said as she reached for some books off the shelf.

"I want you—"

THUD!

THUD!

THUD!

Caelith's eyes wandered toward the door.

"I'll get it," Caelith said as he hurried toward it. Pulling the handle down, his heart dropped.

A guard wearing the Stormont crest greeted him. They usually didn't come this far out of their way.

"Caelith Stormont, you are both being summoned by the lord; I shall escort you to the courtyard." The guard arrogantly proclaimed while adverting his gaze from the bastard of a young master.

"Caelith was supposed to have more days to prepare! How is this fair?" shouted his mother.

"I am just conveying the Lord's will." retorted the guard, who shot a condescending look at Caelith's mother.

Caelith momentarily ignored the guard, approaching his mother and embracing her. "It's alright. I'll succeed and prove them wrong," he whispered into his mother's ear.

The guard escorted him to the family courtyard, keen not to look at Caelith along the way.

The courtyard was a place he only heard of when his half-siblings came to mock or beat him.

Arriving through the outer gates, the courtyard's warmth coddled and embraced him. Beautiful shrubbery decorated the yard, which was centered around a shrine. He saw his two half-siblings standing in close to the center alongside his father and a band of noble spectators.

His father, Alaric Stormont, was a stalwart man over six feet tall. Like any other Six Star, his appearance was breathtaking and awe-inspiring. He boasted a body adorned with scars and muscle attained through years of arduous work. His crimson short-cut hair and beard reflected his affinity for fire and the blessing he had received.

"Your lordship." Caelith kneeled.

"Stand up and pray that your hateful presence doesn't anger the Gods."

His father spat while he pulled out a stone totem from a wooden box.

The totem was adorned with intricate carvings weaving a pattern. When Caelith looked at it, he felt a surge of discomfort.

Alaric handed the stone totem to the priests, who prepared it with a blessing.

"Having him here is just a waste of time. He's just a good-for-nothing bastard who's sent his whore mother to beg Father for a chance for her child," Scoffed Vaerin, looking down upon Caelith with a glare.

Caelith, still on his knees on the dirt ground of the courtyard, clenched his fists in the dirt.

He bit his tongue—knowing they would use any outburst as a reason to remove him and his mother.

Caelith looked up indignantly to see Vaerin's smirk.

Vaerin, meeting the groveling Caelith's eyes, thought to himself, 'Creepy bastard.'

"Ahem… let me clear my throat before I begin," Vaerin said. Then, he spat directly onto Caelith's face.

"Ooh, sorry. I didn't mean to do that."

"Let me help clean it."

Vaerin raised his foot and rubbed the heel of his boot into Caelith's face, pushing him into the dirt.

Caelith bit his lip, holding back his shout.

"The ritual may begin now," Alaric announced, uncaring for his son's actions.

Vaerin walked away from Caelith with a proud look on his face.

Vaerin began to climb the stone steps and entered the temple.

Inside, he saw a small room dimly lit, with flickering torches casting dancing shadows on the decorated stone walls. The precious stone totem was placed on a pedestal, surrounded by three priests chanting incantations, creating a hypnotic rhythm.

The air was heavy with the scent of incense, mixing with the earthy smell of the ancient stones.

Vaerin knelt and placed his hands upon the fire-engraved totem.

The surrounding priests, in response, stepped back from Vaerin.

And Suddenly, the totem began to glow in Vaerin's hands.

The two ancient stone pillars towering behind Vaerin burst into flames, signaling that the God of War had blessed Vaerin.

Fire flowed out of the totem and into his veins. No, that was not correct. It was more accurate to say the fire burned through his body, creating pathways for it to travel through. The scorching pain caused Vaerin to convulse in agony, losing any vestige of his noble upbringing while the fire ravaged his body. The fire was like algae growing underground to find the most efficient route to water. Similarly, the fire found the most efficient route through Vaerin's body, leaving scorched mana behind. Vaerin felt as if his blood was fire itself now.

Vaerin snapped out of his trance and removed his hands from the totem.

"Water," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper, his lips cracked, and his throat parched.

A priest handed him a glass of water, and shortly after, he left the temple. His father, mother, and sister were waiting at the entrance.

"Well?" his father questioned.

"I've been blessed!" Vaerin announced, his voice still hoarse.

A broad smile found its way onto Alaric's face.

 "Did you hear that, everyone?

My son—the heir—has been blessed, carrying on our lineage!"

Alaric stood tall, his chest out, his eyes gleaming with pride.

"Congratulations, Vaerin! I know you will make this family proud," 

A noble said, extending his hand.

"Thank you, I appreciate it," Vaerin responded with a sincere smile as he shook the noble's hand.

Then, he turned to his younger sister, Selphira.

"So, how was it?" she asked.

"It was hot. Really hot."

"It started off alright, but as I held that totem, the heat became almost unbearable. And it felt as if something was alive inside of me."

Shivering, Selphira asked.

"Is that all to worry about?" 

"Yeah, mainly. However, it's hard to explain, but it feels like you're in a dream of some sort when you're holding that thing."

"That's interesting," Selphira said as she scratched her head.

"Well, looks like I better get ready to go in."

As they both walked near the temple steps, they saw Caelith sitting on a wooden bench, wiping his face off.

"Look at the fool as if the Gods will even look at him," sneered Selphira.

"He's a lost cause. All he's good for is serving us," Vaerin laughed, his lips curling into a smile as his eyes narrowed toward Caelith.

Selphira smirked. "Well, I'm heading in."

She greeted the nobles and her parents politely before ascending the temple steps.

Not long passed after she entered.

"I've been blessed!" 

Selphira announced from the temple's peak.

Once again, everyone celebrated.

Ignoring the commotion, Caelith sat alone, isolated, thinking about the history of divine blessings.

'Throughout the history of the Ignirian Kingdom, the Fire God has continuously blessed three prominent noble families, including the royal family.

They were the ones who rose through the rankings and took leadership roles.

However, the Divine blessing you received or didn't receive didn't determine your power; it just facilitated your path to it. Those without blessings were doomed to stop at the Three-Star barrier, lacking the aptitude to continue.'

Caelith looked forward.

It was his turn.