Chapter 8 – The Ceremony (Part 2)
The Pope's voice resonated through the grand cathedral, carrying the weight of centuries past.
"We stand here today," he declared, his words measured, powerful, "to witness the rebirth of an ancient promise. Long ago, when humanity was on the verge of extinction, when the world trembled under the monstrous rule of the teras, four heroes rose from the darkness."
Alex sat perfectly still, the words washing over him.
He had heard the legend before.
The Four Heroes—the saviors of humanity, the wielders of the elements, the ones who built the walls and founded the cities that still stood today.
But the Pope's voice carried something more than just retelling history. It carried expectation.
"Their sacrifice allowed us to survive," he continued, his golden robes shimmering under the candlelight. "But their mission was never meant to end. Their bloodline remains, their power reborn, and today… we welcome the ones destined to take their place."
The hall stirred. Murmurs spread like ripples across the vast room.
Alex swallowed, glancing at his hands. Was he really one of them?
The Pope raised a hand, silencing the whispers. His gaze swept across the hall, touching each of the four heirs.
For the briefest second, when his eyes met Alex's, the Pope paused.
It was almost imperceptible—a flicker of hesitation, gone as quickly as it had come.
Then, he continued.
"Tonight, the new heirs of Earth, Water, Air, and Fire step forward to claim their rightful place."
The room erupted into applause.
Except Alex couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right.
The Pope turned toward the four of them, lifting his hands as the golden Elemental Brooches were carried onto the stage on a velvet cushion.
"Max Grace, Heir of Earth."
The applause was thunderous.
Max stood confidently, stepping up to the stage with a grin. He carried himself with ease, as if he had been preparing for this his whole life.
The Pope pinned the golden brooch of Earth onto his suit—a symbol of deep roots, twisting like veins of rock.
Max bowed, then turned to face the crowd, his expression alight with pride.
Alex clenched his fists beneath the table.
"Samantha Williams, Heir of Water."
The nobles clapped—a grand, overwhelming applause.
Samantha glided toward the stage, her blue dress catching the candlelight, making her appear as if she were walking on water. Her golden curls shimmered under the glow, her expression perfectly poised.
She received the brooch of Water—waves twisting in an elegant spiral.
When she bowed, it was with graceful precision, a practiced movement fit for nobility.
Alex shifted uncomfortably.
"Emily Parker, Heir of Air."
The applause was softer than it had been for Max and Samantha, but there was admiration in it.
Emily stepped forward, her wavy brown hair catching the light, her striking green eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight.
She didn't have the noble air of Samantha, but she was still undeniably beautiful in a way that felt more natural, more effortless.
She carried herself differently—with quiet confidence, but without the arrogance of highborn upbringing.
As she received her brooch of Air—a delicate swirl of wind patterns—she didn't look at Alex.
She simply stepped back.
And then, the moment he dreaded arrived.
"Alex Stern, Heir of Fire."
Silence.
A few scattered claps echoed weakly through the hall, awkward and half-hearted.
Alex froze.
Why weren't they clapping?
Why was it so different?
He pushed himself up, his legs feeling heavier than stone as he walked toward the stage.
The Pope's expression was unreadable as he pinned the brooch of Fire onto Alex's chest—a golden emblem, its flames curling outward like grasping fingers.
It was warm.
Yet Alex felt cold.
He forced a smile, but inside, something was breaking.
The Pope lifted his hands once more, commanding the hall's attention.
"Tonight," he declared, his voice echoing, "marks the beginning of a new era."
The room listened.
"The heirs will be trained at the Elemental Institute of Lotardale," he continued, "where they will master their abilities. And one day, they will lead humanity's fight against the teras—just as the Four Heroes did before them."
The applause erupted, loud and triumphant.
For the other heirs, it was a moment of triumph.
For Alex, it was something else entirely.
He sat back down at his family's table, feeling the weight of the brooch against his chest.
It felt heavier than it should have.
The grand ceremony transitioned into a lavish feast, golden platters overflowing with exotic dishes, roasted meats, and fine wines from across the continent.
Laughter and conversation filled the air.
But not at Alex's table.
He sat stiffly between his parents, his fingers pressing into the fabric of his trousers.
The others—the real heirs—were surrounded by nobles and powerful figures, drawn to them like moths to flame.
Max laughed with high-ranking Church officials.
Samantha spoke effortlessly with nobles.
Emily listened intently to a scholar, nodding with interest.
And Alex?
Alex's table was almost empty.
Only two people approached.
The first was the Great Minister of Arindale—the highest-ranking official from their home city. His presence took Alex by surprise, and for a brief moment, he felt a flicker of hope that maybe someone truly recognized his importance.
But as the Minister spoke, Alex realized something else.
"It's good to see you, David, Sarah," the Minister said, his voice heavy with emotion. His usual formal tone was gone, replaced by something warmer, almost… nostalgic. "It's been strange not having you two at my side these past weeks. You were among the finest minds in Arindale's courts—your absence has left a noticeable void."
Sarah smiled politely. "That means a lot, Minister."
David gave a respectful nod. "We miss Arindale, too."
The Minister exhaled, his gaze flickering to Alex. "And you, young man… I knew your parents before you were even old enough to walk. They were the best in their field. If you are even half as sharp as they are, then I've no doubt the world will one day come to recognize it."
Alex opened his mouth, but no words came.
He should have felt grateful. Proud, even.
But all he could think about was how no one else had come.
The Minister gave them a final nod before moving on, his presence genuine, but fleeting.
The second person to approach was a noblewoman dressed in deep crimson.
Her gown was elegant, yet subtly different from the elaborate silks and embroidered garments of the others. The color—a striking shade of red—stood out in the sea of golds, blues, and greens worn by the nobility.
She moved with quiet confidence, stopping behind Alex's chair.
Without introducing herself, she placed a gentle hand on Alex's shoulder.
Her voice was soft, but knowing.
"You mustn't let their opinions define you, child," she whispered.
Then, as quickly as she had come, she walked away, disappearing into the sea of aristocrats and church officials.
Alex barely had time to react.
His eyes followed the red fabric, but the woman was already gone, blending back into the grand hall's bustling crowd.
Alex clenched his jaw.
Was he really that unimportant?
He looked across the room at Max, surrounded by people, his laughter effortless.
Something twisted in Alex's chest.
They had arrived in Lotardale at the same time. They had sat side by side every day. They had explored together, trained together, shared everything.
Yet now—now, it was like they lived in two different worlds.
His stomach churned, but he forced himself to smile.
His parents saw through it.
Sarah placed a hand on Alex's.
"Let's go home."
Alex swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.
Because no matter what the Pope said…
Tonight, he didn't feel like an heir at all.
The ride home should have been filled with celebration. With laughter. With warmth.
But instead, it was silent.
The only sounds were the rhythmic clatter of hooves against stone and the distant hum of the city still buzzing with festivities.
Inside the carriage, Alex sat between his parents, staring blankly at his hands. The golden brooch of fire—the very symbol of his status as an Elemental Heir—sat pinned to his chest, but it felt cold. Lifeless.
His father, David, sat with his arms crossed, his jaw tight, his fingers tapping anxiously against his knee.
Sarah, his mother, shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Alex, then at David, as if searching for words that simply didn't exist.
Alex tried to push it down. The humiliation. The anger. The crushing weight of being seen as lesser.
But his mind kept replaying the moment.
The silence after his name was called.
The way people had just… watched.
The whispers. The glances.
The forced, reluctant applause.
He could still feel their stares.
Even now, hours later, the phantom weight of their judgment clung to him like a suffocating cloak.
"It's not fair." The words left his lips before he could stop them.
David let out a long breath, rubbing his temples. "It isn't, son. But that's the reality of the world we live in."
Alex clenched his fists. "But why?! Why do they hate me? I didn't even do anything yet!"
Sarah's voice was soft, but firm. "It's not about you, Alex. It's about what you represent."
Alex's head snapped toward her. "What does that even mean?"
David met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "The Fire Hero's legacy is… complicated."
Complicated.
That word again.
That's all anyone ever said.
Nobody ever spoke about the Fire Hero in detail. No grand statues. No celebrations. No legends like the others.
Just a void. A missing piece of history.
And now, Alex was carrying that same stain.
David sighed, rubbing his face. "Samantha's parents are influential nobles. Emily's family are renowned healers. And Max…" He hesitated. "Max is tied to the Church in ways we don't fully understand yet."
Alex already knew that. He had seen it himself.
Max belonged there.
Max had power. Influence. People liked Max.
But Alex?
Alex had nothing.
"That's not my fault," Alex muttered, his voice shaking.
"No," Sarah agreed. "It's not."
Silence settled between them again.
The carriage rolled on, the city lights flickering through the window, casting shifting shadows along the walls.
Then—David straightened.
His body tensed.
"Stop the carriage." His voice was sharp. Commanding.
The driver didn't respond.
Something was wrong.
Sarah turned toward her husband, eyes wide. "David?"
Then—
The carriage came to a sudden, violent halt.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of panting horses and the faint creak of the wheels settling into stillness.
Then—a sound.
Low. Guttural.
A deep, inhuman growl that made Alex's stomach lurch.
Something was wrong.
David's hand shot out, gripping Alex's arm with an intensity that sent a chill up his spine.
"Stay in the carriage." His voice was sharp. Unshaking.
Then he opened the door.
The moment he stepped out, the night shattered.
The driver's body hit the ground first—a mangled heap of torn flesh and crushed bone, his robes soaked in dark, glistening red. His face was twisted in eternal agony, mouth gaping as if caught in a silent scream.
A massive, hulking shadow loomed over him.
Alex's breath hitched.
A Tera.
Not just any monster—a nightmare made real.
It was like a wolf, yet grotesquely wrong. Its body was gnarled wood, its fur replaced by tangled roots that twisted and pulsed like something alive. Its eyes—two burning embers set deep into a hollowed skull of bark—snapped toward them, filled with a hunger older than time itself.
Then it moved.
Fast. Too fast.
David barely had time to shove Sarah and Alex out of the carriage before the beast lunged, its claws raking across the wooden frame, slicing through it like paper.
"RUN!"
Alex's heart slammed against his ribs as he was pulled forward, his mother's fingernails digging into his wrist as she sprinted.
Behind them, the world was a blur of motion and sound.
A massive clawed limb crashed into the cobblestone, splintering it into jagged fragments. The Tera's breath hissed like steam, its heavy footfalls thundering against the ground.
But then—Sarah stumbled.
Her dress—a beautiful deep-blue gown meant for the ceremony—snagged against the broken stone.
She fell hard.
"Mom!"
Alex turned, instincts screaming at him to help.
David was already moving back toward her, his face set in pure, unshakable determination.
"Alex, GO!" His voice was raw, desperate.
Alex didn't move.
He couldn't.
His legs were lead. His breath stuck in his throat like a jagged knife.
His father reached Sarah just as the Tera loomed over them, its towering form blocking out the moonlight.
A low snarl rumbled through the air, deep and hollow, like the sound of a dying tree groaning under its own weight.
Sarah's eyes met David's.
A silent moment passed between them—one Alex would never understand.
Then—it struck.
A massive, gnarled limb came crashing down.
A blur of dark red splattered across the cobblestone.
Sarah's body jerked violently, her mouth opening in a silent scream that never came.
David didn't let go.
Even as the wooden spines impaled his chest, piercing straight through his back, he held onto Sarah.
Like he could still protect her.
Like he could still save her.
Alex's world split apart at the seams.
His mother's blood was everywhere—a dark, creeping pool beneath her, soaking into the cracks of the stone.
David's eyes flickered up one last time.
And then—he fell.
A sound ripped from Alex's throat.
A sound that wasn't human.
He stumbled forward, his fingers reaching for them, for anything—
But there was nothing left to save.
His mother's chest rose once—just barely.
She coughed, a weak, trembling sound that sent dark crimson dribbling down her lips.
Her eyes, fading but still full of love, found his.
Her fingers twitched—like she was trying to reach for him.
Her lips moved.
And in her final, broken breath, she whispered:
"Despite not being my true son… you will always be."
Then—nothing.
Alex's breath shattered.
His vision blurred, his mind a swirling void of rage, despair, and something deeper—something ancient—rising in his veins.
The ground beneath him glowed a deep, molten red.
Heat pulsed through his bones, searing, consuming, igniting.
The air warped.
The Tera turned its hollow, ember eyes to him.
It had already taken everything from him.
His parents' blood stained the shattered ground. Their bodies, once warm, lay lifeless amidst splintered roots and dirt.
Alex's breath came fast and uneven, his heartbeat hammering in his skull. His lungs ached from the scorching heat inside him, yet his body felt cold—empty in a way that terrified him.
The monster tilted its head, watching him.
Mocking him.
Something inside Alex snapped.
His vision blurred. The grief, the pain, the helplessness it all crashed over him in a raging storm of emotion.
Burn it.
The thought came unbidden. It wasn't a command. It wasn't even his.
But it consumed him.
His hands curled into fists. His body trembled, but not with fear.
For the first time in his life—he let go.
Alex threw out his hand, screaming as the only spell he had ever learned— Sparks—erupted from his palm.
Except this wasn't Sparks.
This wasn't a flicker of light.
This was an inferno.
Flames exploded outward, roaring like a beast unchained.
The ground detonated beneath him, turning to molten stone in an instant. The air ignited—heatwave after heatwave surging outward, devouring everything in its path.
The carriage erupted into blackened cinders before it could be thrown back by the force. The cobblestone road cracked apart as waves of fire spiraled and twisted into monstrous torrents of destruction.
The Tera never had a chance.
Its wooden body curled in on itself, branches charring into brittle ash within seconds. It let out a sound—a screech, a howl—before its form collapsed into a pile of smoldering embers.
The fire didn't stop.
It consumed everything.
The trees became skeletal black pillars, crumbling inwards as the sky turned red. Ash choked the air, blotting out the stars, making it impossible to tell where the ground ended and the void began.
Alex stood at the center of it all, his body a silhouette against the raging inferno.
But he didn't see the destruction.
He saw nothing.
The world was turning black around him.
His mind spiraled, a relentless pounding in his skull.
Too much.
He had lost everything.
And now, he was losing himself.
Alex swayed. His hands, still glowing with embers, twitched as if the fire was trying to escape his fingertips once more.
Then—darkness.
His body crumpled.
The last thing he saw before the void took him—
Was the ashes clinging to his fingers.