While this was taking place, high above the trial grounds, concealed behind enchanted screens that allowed them to see without being seen, sat the Council of Elders of the Holy Order. They were the silent arbiters of fate, the guardians of tradition, and today, they were witnesses to something none had expected.
The hierarchy of the Holy Order was both intricate and rigid, a reflection of its centuries-old devotion to structure and purity. At its apex sat the Grand Luminary, an ancient figure who seldom spoke but whose word was law. Beneath the Grand Luminary were the Three Pillars, each representing a core branch of the Order:
The Knights of the Sacred Blade: The military and defensive arm, led by the High Commander. Theirs was the duty of protection, enforcement, and martial excellence.
The Keepers of the Silent Word: The scholarly and mystical division, overseen by the Archivist Prime. They preserved knowledge and the sacred rituals of the Order.
The Weavers of Fate: The diplomatic and political wing, governed by the Voice of Divinity. They engaged with the outside world, and interpreted prophecies.
Beneath these were lesser divisions—the healers, the artisans, the sentinels—but the Three Pillars held the true power. And today, members of all three were present, watching the Trial of Awakening unfold below.
Elder Kaelen, High Commander of the Knights, stood with his arms crossed, his jaw tight. His armor, polished to a mirror shine, seemed to absorb the dim light of the observation chamber. To his right, robed in deep blue and silver, was Elder Lyra, the Archivist Prime and to his left, dressed in the flowing grey of a diplomat, was Elder Theron, the Voice of Divinity, whose calm demeanor masked a mind always calculating advantage.
And then there was the boy.
He moved through the trials with a grace that seemed unnatural, his silver white hair like a streak of moonlight in the gloom of the trial chambers. One after another, he overcame challenges that had broken seasoned aspirants. He did not hesitate. He did not falter. He simply… moved, as if the obstacles were not there at all.
Elder Lyra was the first to break the silence. "Remarkable," she murmured, her voice smooth and pleasing to the ear. "His connection to the arcane currents is… pristine. Unburdened. The Keepers could refine such a gift. He should be brought into our division."
Elder Theron nodded slowly, his eyes narrow with interest. "A mind that sharp could be of great use to the Weavers. The political landscape is shifting. We need individuals who can see through deception as clearly as he sees through those trials."
Elder Kaelen's knuckles whitened where he gripped his vambraces. "He is undergoing the Knight's Trial. He is meant for the blade, not the book or the bargaining table."
"Meant?" Elder Lyra's tone was mild, but there was an edge to it. "Since when does the Holy Order concern itself with meant? We concern ourselves with what is. And what is, is that the boy possesses talents that transcend your narrow martial focus."
"Narrow?" Elder Kaelen's voice dropped, dangerous and low. "We are the shield that allows you to dabble in secrets and politics in safety, Lyra. Do not forget that." He turned his gaze to Theron. "And why are the Weavers even observing this? The Awakening Trials are for the Knights. It has never been a spectacle for other divisions."
Elder Theron offered a thin smile. "The boy is a variable. Variables interest me. They interest the Holy Order as a whole. Or would you rather we remain soloed in our ignorance while talent is squandered?"
Below, No.1 completed the third trial.
But not all were so fortunate. Another Nameless —a girl with determination in her eyes but fear in her steps—entered the third trial. She hesitated too long on the bridge. Her hand trembled, her feet slipped, her resolve cracked, and then—she was gone. Not dead. Erased. As if she had never been. The trials were merciless; to fail was to be unmade, your existence dissolved back into the Divine from which all things came.
A heavy silence fell over the observers. Even Elder Kaelen, who had seen countless aspirants fail, looked away.
"This is why we must be careful," Elder Lyra said softly. "Why we must place talent where it serves best. That boy… he didn't just pass. He understood the trials. He saw their nature. That is a rarity not seen in ages."
"He will be a Knight," Elder Kaelen insisted. "The Knights need strength like his. We are facing greater threats every day. The boundaries between dimensions weaken.
"And knowledge is a weapon too," Elder Lyra countered. "As is influence," Elder Theron added.
The tension in the room was palpable, a web of competing desires and ambitions. The Holy Order was united in purpose, but it was also a fragile alliance of powerful factions, each believing their way was the true path to salvation.
Elder Kaelen finally turned, his face hard. "The boy will undergo the final oath after completing the final trial. He will swear to the Knights of the Sacred Blade. If you wish to challenge that, take it to the Grand Luminary. But know this—I will not let talent like his be wasted on scrolls or speeches."
Elder Lyra's eyes flashed, but she inclined her head slightly. Elder Theron simply watched, his expression unreadable.
Below, No.1 stood alone in the center of the trial chamber, unaware of the debate raging above. Unaware of the hopes and fears he had ignited. Unaware that, in a room not far away, another aspirant had just ceased to be, leaving no trace behind but a momentary ripple in the air.
The Order was holy, but it was not kind. It demanded perfection, and it erased failure. And now, it had found something—or someone—that might either save it or tear it apart from within.
The elders continued to watch, each lost in their own thoughts, their own plans.