Chapter 19- Grand Welcoming

The sky split open in one large crack right above the ground where the Fraticle Circle had hovered last time. An immense, blinding light burst from the tear — the kind that burned into the back of your eyes, left you blinking spots and wondering if you'd just seen the afterlife.

And then —

It closed again.

Just like that.

Before anyone could react, it happened again.

The sky split open. Blinding light. Snap shut.

And again.

Split. Flash. Close.

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, then turned to Neris, who looked equally confused.

"Okay, is someone up there playing peek-a-boo?" I muttered. "What are they doing? Playing opening and closing of curtains? Do they want applause?"

A few more rounds of celestial strobe light later, I crossed my arms and squinted at the sky. Dad coughed beside me, trying to mask a chuckle. And then, a voice echoed across the ground — steady, crisp, slightly metallic.

"This is an announcement from Salva Snowwhite, the Light Garrior," it said, broadcasted through hidden speakers embedded around the Circle site. I straightened, the name alone pulling everyone's attention.

"It has been reported from the Saurus," the voice continued, "that apart from Garriors, a different class called Protectors also emerge during the Awakening period. Normally, this happens over a span of three to six months after Garriors awakening. Therefore, it was not previously disclosed — to avoid unnecessary confusion or panic."

There was a pause. A long one. Murmurs erupted immediately — people glancing around, muttering to each other, trying to process.

"But as seen now," the announcement resumed, "it appears the Protectors have awakened, more than one can be possible and may be unconsciously triggering the unstable Gate openings. Protector awakenings are often subtle, uneventful, and go unnoticed even by the individuals themselves."

Great. As if things weren't vague enough.

"However," the voice continued, "certain individuals may notice strange imprints or markings on their body — symbols that weren't there before. If you suspect you might be a Protector, please come forward... and if possible, focus on opening the Gate. Your intent might stabilize it."

Another pause. Another wave of silence swept over the crowd, heavy and unsure. I glanced down at my arm. 

No strange tattoos. No glowing glyphs. Not even a mosquito bite.

"Figures," I muttered. But someone out here — in this massive, buzzing sea of people — might be the one glitching the sky like a broken garage door.

Now the question was: Who?

They said the Gate reacted to intent, right? Okay then... just for fun...

Open up.

The sky split open again.

No way. That had to be a coincidence. I mean, millions of people must have thought the same thing just now. Right?

Let's try again.

Close up.

The crack sealed shut.

My eyes widened. Still a coincidence. Still had to be....Right?

Then, through the last flicker of light, someone stepped out from the Gate.

Herald. Perfect.

Let the wind flow in a way that makes Herald spin like a top.

And to my absolute horror — and mild delight — the wind listened. A sudden gust surged across the plaza, sharp and spiraling. Hats flew. Papers scattered. My hair whipped across my face. And at the center of the chaos— Herald spun.

Not just a twirl. A full-blown, two-armed, coat-flapping, cartoon-worthy spin.

"Wha—HEY—HEY!" Herald yelled, arms flailing as his boots lost traction and his sleek black coat wrapped around him like a tangled cape.

One full spin. Two. Three. He was a very elegant, very angry top. The crowd gasped. I stared, mouth hanging open.

Wait—stop spinning him.

Instantly, the wind died. Herald stumbled to a halt, wobbling like a freshly unspooled yo-yo, then shoved his tousled hair out of his face. His coat flared dramatically as he turned toward the crowd, eyes blazing.

"Alright," he barked, scanning the sea of confused faces. "Which one of you amateurs is messing with the wind?!"

Oh come on. There had to be at least one other person in this world will have the same chaotic brain cell I was operating on. At that perfect moment, the wind stirred again — but gentler this time — sweeping fallen leaves into a spiral that twisted and twirled until it formed a makeshift ramp leading from Herald to the ground. The crowd let out a collective ooooh's, like they were watching a magic trick.

I blinked.

"That ramp—wasn't me," I whispered.

I definitely didn't do that.

So. I'm not the Protector.

Safe.

Neris leaned over. "What do you mean wasn't you? Are you saying you were the one who yanked thee string over that spinning top?"

"I didn't say that," I said carefully. "But I also didn't not say that."

Dad raised an eyebrow. "What's going on? Did you do something to that poor man?"

"I don't know?" I replied sheepishly, scratching the back of my neck.

Mom narrowed her eyes at me over her sunglasses. "That tone tells me yes."

"I just thought something," I tried to defend myself, "and then... stuff happened."

Neris leaned in. "So basically, you told the universe to mess with him and the universe said, 'Sure, sounds fun'?"

"...Yes?" I offered weakly.

Dad let out a low whistle. Mom sighed and finally put her phone down. "Well, I hope he has a sense of humor. Or a terrible memory."

Also — fun fact — whatever happened in one Fraticle Circle was mirrored across the others around the world. Meaning, this weird leafy runway was probably forming in a dozen different places right now. So... where exactly was Herald descending? 

I squinted toward the Gate. No clue.

Well, I thought, eyes narrowing as I spotted him making his way down the leafy ramp, let's try something else.

Let the leaves enclose Herald like a lift and descend the lift... floor by floor.

And just like that — it worked.

The wind shifted subtly, and the leaves responded like trained dancers. They circled around him, forming walls. A leafy cylinder took shape, enclosing him completely. Then, softly — floor by floor — it began to descend.

Okay. Definitely me. I'm the Protector. Which was thrilling thought... until I remembered who I had just enclosed in said elevator.

Herald. Nope. Not thrilled anymore.

In fact, mildly terrified. Because as that leafy lift opened up again at the bottom, I could already see it:

His expression.

His pinkish-red hair blending perfectly with the pinkish-red fury rising up his neck.

Yeah. I might be the Protector...

But I was not protected from the incoming wrath of one very angry Herald. I held my breath. Please let him yell at someone else.