The Shattering

A thousand years had passed since the heavens broke apart. That was how every history lesson began, and today was no different.

Professor Alden's voice carried through the grand lecture hall, his words painting a tale of ambition, bloodshed, and divinity. Holoscreens flickered to life, displaying ancient, grainy footage—a massive wound in the sky, an abyss revealing another world beyond.

"The Shattering wasn't just an event," Alden declared, his gaze sweeping the room. "It was a summon, one that called humanity to Faltheris, the land of gods and mysteries."

Nero grinned as he listened, his fingers tapping against the desk. He had heard this story countless times, but it never lost its magic. Soon, he would get to be a part of it.

"The first ascendants—our ancestors—stepped through the rift with nothing but courage," Alden continued. "They sought power, enlightenment, purpose. But not all were welcomed."

The holoscreen shifted, revealing eerie footage of figures collapsing in the streets, their bodies twisted and lifeless. A hush fell over the class.

"Only those chosen by the Patron Gods could survive in Faltheris. Only those marked."

Nero straightened, barely containing his excitement. The mark. The ultimate proof of one's worth. Tomorrow, on his fifteenth birthday, he would stand before the altar and receive his destiny. He could already picture it—his friends cheering, the mark glowing brilliantly on his skin. He would make history.

"Nero."

He blinked, realizing the professor was watching him. A few students smirked. Had he missed a question?

"Yes, Professor?"

Alden folded his arms. "You always have an opinion on our discussions. Tell me, what do you believe was the most important outcome of the Shattering?"

Nero perked up, a wide grin spreading across his face. "That's easy! It gave people a reason to dream bigger."

A few students chuckled, but Alden simply raised an eyebrow. "Explain."

"Well," Nero said, sitting up straighter, "before the Shattering, humans were just... normal. We had limits. We lived, worked, and died the same way for centuries. But when Faltheris appeared, it changed everything! Now, we get to reach beyond what we were, to become something greater."

Alden nodded slowly. "A rather optimistic view."

Nero beamed. "Of course! It's amazing, isn't it?"

Someone behind him let out a small laugh, and a few students shook their heads, amused. The classroom air felt lighter now, the weight of the lesson fading.

The bell rang, signaling the end of class. Chairs scraped against the floor as students stood, stretching and gathering their things. Nero grabbed his bag, practically bouncing on his feet. Just as he turned to leave, a familiar voice called out.

"You're way too excited for a history lesson."

He turned to see Cassian grinning, silver hair catching the light. Cassian was tall and athletic, carrying himself with effortless confidence. He had a sharp mind but rarely took things too seriously, always ready with a teasing remark. Despite his laid-back demeanor, he was fiercely loyal, the kind of friend who would stand by you no matter what.

Beside him, Lira rolled her eyes. "If you don't calm down, you'll combust before the ceremony even starts." She was the brains in their trio, her sharp amber eyes always scanning her surroundings. Lira was disciplined and pragmatic, balancing out Nero's boundless optimism and Cassian's easygoing nature. Though she often acted exasperated by them, there was no denying her fierce protectiveness over her friends.

Nero laughed. "Relax! Tomorrow, we all get our marks. We're going to be amazing."

Cassian chuckled, adjusting the strap of his bag. "You sound like you already know what yours is going to be."

"Why wouldn't I?" Nero spread his arms. "We've been waiting for this our whole lives. It's finally happening!"

Lira shook her head. "You're way too confident."

"Confidence is key." Nero shot her a wink. "You should try it sometime."

Cassian smirked. "She'd rather just roll her eyes at us."

Lira crossed her arms but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at her lips. "Because one of us has to be the sensible one."

The three of them walked together, weaving through the bustling streets as the afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the city. Familiar sights and sounds surrounded them—street vendors calling out their specials, the distant hum of airbuses overhead, and the chatter of students enjoying their break. It wasn't long before they reached their usual café, a small but cozy spot nestled in the heart of the city.

The scent of fresh pastries and coffee lingered in the air as they settled into their favorite corner booth.

Nero traced the rim of his cup, glancing at his two friends. "It's kind of weird to think about," he muttered. "By this time tomorrow, we'll finally awaken."

Lira, seated across from him, nodded. "Yeah. After all this waiting, it doesn't even feel real."

Cassian leaned back against the booth, arms crossed. "Speak for yourself. I've been counting the days since I turned fifteen."

Nero chuckled. "You and Lira had to wait longer, huh?"

Lira sighed. "Don't remind me. I turned fifteen three months ago, and Cassian's even older than me. We've just been stuck waiting while you get to awaken the moment you hit fifteen."

Nero grinned. "Guess I have good timing."

Cassian snorted. "Or dumb luck."

Lira smirked. "Mostly the second one."

Nero rolled his eyes, but his grin didn't fade. He took a sip of his drink, then leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Alright then, since we're all going to awaken soon… what do you guys hope for?"

Cassian's answer came instantly. "Garnias, obviously." His eyes gleamed with excitement. "The God of War's blessing is the strongest a fighter can get. Strength, endurance, battle instincts—everything you need to dominate in combat." He cracked his knuckles, a confident smirk playing on his lips. "With that, I'll be unstoppable."

Lira scoffed. "And predictable."

Cassian shot her a look. "Excuse me for having ambition."

She merely sipped her tea before answering. "I'd prefer Elthor, the God of Magic. His awakenings have unmatched versatility, and magic users are always in demand." Her fingers drummed against the table as she considered it. "Plus, his domain has more depth than just raw power. Magic isn't about brute force—it's about control, strategy, intelligence."

Cassian grinned. "And here I thought you were just a perfectionist. Turns out you want to be a prodigy too."

Lira arched an eyebrow. "Why not both?"

Nero chuckled, shaking his head. "Figures you two would have it all planned out."

Cassian leaned forward. "And you? What are you hoping for?"

He hesitated. That was the problem—he didn't know.

"I just want to fight," he admitted. "Doesn't really matter how, as long as I'm on the frontlines." He tapped his fingers against his cup. "I don't want some support ability or some passive skill that keeps me in the back. I want to be in the middle of the action."

Lira hummed. "So no interest in Kindred, then?"

Nero grimaced. "The God of Travels and Messengers? No thanks. That's just running around and delivering things."

Cassian laughed. "You're underselling it. Speed, movement, adaptability—there's a reason Kindred's awakenings are hard to deal with."

"Yeah, but I'd rather hit something than run around it." Nero stretched, then gave them a sheepish look. "Honestly, I'm just hoping I don't get something weird."

Cassian smirked. "Like Kairos?"

Nero groaned. "Don't even joke about that."

Lira gave him a questioning look. "Why not? The God of Time is one of the most mysterious. His awakenings are rare."

"Exactly," Nero muttered. "Too rare. No one even knows what they do half the time. If I get something like that, I'll probably spend the next year just trying to figure it out."

Cassian nudged him with an elbow. "Relax. Whatever you get, we'll figure it out together."

Lira nodded. "Yeah. Besides, in the end, what matters is how we use it."

Nero let out a breath, then grinned. "You're right. Either way, tomorrow's going to change everything."

* * *

As soon as Nero stepped into the house, a familiar warmth settled over him. The faint scent of spices lingered in the air, a reminder that dinner was probably being prepared. He barely paused in the doorway, calling out, "I'm back!" before heading straight for the stairs.

His mother's voice floated in from the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready soon!"

But he was already halfway up, his mind elsewhere.

His room was exactly as he left it—neat, but with traces of his habits scattered around. A few books on Faltheris and past awakenings were stacked on his desk. His old training gear, things he used to practice with, rested in the corner. Posters of warriors and ascended figures lined his walls, their weapons raised mid-battle. Some of them had already become legends.

Tomorrow, I take my first step toward that world.

He shut the door behind him, letting out a slow breath. The anticipation had been building for years, and now that the moment was nearly here, it felt surreal. Without thinking, he grabbed his tablet and settled onto his bed, his fingers moving with familiarity as he navigated to the recordings of ascensions.

There were thousands of them—clips of people from all walks of life stepping forward to receive their Patron God's mark. Some rejoiced as their bodies surged with newfound power. Others fell to their knees, devastated by their fate.

But Nero had no interest in those.

He scrolled past the ordinary awakenings, searching for one name.

Bram Pendragon.

The golden standard. The warrior who had once been just another hopeful fifteen-year-old, standing where Nero would stand tomorrow. The moment he had awakened, his fate had changed forever.

The screen loaded, the familiar recording beginning with a low hum of anticipation. The ceremony hall was packed—families, instructors, officials—all gathered to witness the future of Faltheris take its first steps.

Nero had seen this clip countless times, but tonight, his eyes traced every detail with new intensity. The towering pillars, the polished marble floors, the grand altar at the center—it all felt larger than life.

A line of young hopefuls stood waiting, their faces tense with a mix of excitement and fear. Some glanced at the altar, others at the officiators dressed in ceremonial robes. They all knew this moment would define the rest of their lives.

Then, the officiator called a name.

"Bram Pendragon."

The boy who stepped forward wasn't the legend yet—just a fifteen-year-old, tall for his age, lean but not yet the force of nature he would become. His golden hair caught the light, but it was his eyes that stood out the most. They weren't wide with fear or hesitation like the others.

They were steady. Unshaken.

He approached the altar without a moment's pause, placing his hand on the cold stone. The hall held its breath.

A second passed.

Then light erupted.

Not the soft glow that most received, nor the flickering embers of weaker blessings—this was blinding, a golden radiance that swallowed the entire altar. The recording briefly glitched, overwhelmed by the intensity. Gasps filled the air, followed by the frantic murmurs of those who recognized the significance of such a phenomenon.

When the light finally dimmed, Bram was still standing. He hadn't staggered. Hadn't even flinched. His body looked the same—no sudden growth, no dramatic change—but something about him was different.

The officiator swallowed, his voice carrying a rare tremor as he spoke the words that would be repeated for years to come.

"Chosen by Adramelech, the God of Beasts."

A single heartbeat of silence.

Then the hall erupted.

Nero could hear it through the screen—the sheer weight of that name, the awe, the disbelief. Even among the rarest of gods, Adramelech was an entity that stood above most. A god of raw, unrestrained power.

The last time someone had received his mark was 150 years ago.

The video cut to moments later—officials scrambling to analyze what had just happened, experts already theorizing about Bram's potential. The way he walked away from the altar, calm and composed, as if nothing had changed… but everyone knew it had.

In just a few days, his name spread across every major broadcast, every headline. He became the golden standard, the one every aspiring warrior compared themselves to.

Nero let the tablet fall onto his chest, staring at the ceiling.

He had no illusions—awakening like that was beyond rare. The chances of him receiving a mark anywhere near that level were slim.

But he didn't need to be Bram.

He just needed to be strong.

No matter what.

The glow of the tablet dimmed as he set it aside. He pulled his blanket over himself, his body tense despite the exhaustion weighing on him.

Tomorrow, everything would change.

His stomach twisted with nerves, but sleep came for him anyway—pulling him under with the quiet whisper of possibility.