"Training."
That one word had followed me like a shadow since leaving the throne room. My father hadn't explained it. He didn't need to. I already knew.
The training of the chosen.
It was no secret. Every heir of Uruk knew about it before their own ceremony. A sacred education wrapped in ritual and blood. The chosen were taught not just the names of gods, but the shape of their gifts. How to summon them. Wield them. Survive them.
It was where the divine became real—and dangerous.
I walked the halls of the palace alone, the air still cold with morning. Echoes bounced from wall to wall, but none came from me. Only the weight of my thoughts kept me company.
Until I turned the corner.
There they were.
Kisaya sat cross-legged on the floor, wooden sword across her knees. Beside her, a flash of motion and laughter—Ennari.
My sister.
Three years younger, eyes wide like new stars, with hair braided in soft coils and a smile that could ruin any silence. She didn't care about politics. Or the ceremony. Or the fact that her brother had not been chosen.
She saw me, and before I could brace for it, she was running.
"Eresh!"
She slammed into me with arms small but determined. I grunted, caught off-guard, and felt the corner of my mouth twitch upward.
"Still strong" I muttered, ruffling her hair.
"You're slow" she said, grinning. "I won."
"You always do."
Kisaya stood, more cautious. Her eyes searched mine, but not with judgment. With memory. I walked to her slowly.
"I'm sorry" I said.
No preamble. No deflection.
She nodded once.
"I forgive you" she whispered. Then stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me.
I stood still for a moment.
Then returned it.
When she pulled back, she looked me dead in the eye. "I love you, you know."
The words landed like a blow I hadn't trained for.
My breath caught. "What?"
She smiled gently. "Divine Edict."
And somehow, that made sense.
I nodded.
"Me too!" Ennari yelled, throwing herself back into the hug. Kisaya laughed, and for the first time in a while, I did too.
It didn't last long.
"I'm joining the training" I said.
Kisaya froze. "What? But you weren't—"
"Chosen" I finished for her. "No. But my father says power doesn't make a king. Understanding does."
She blinked. Then smiled, half in admiration, half in confusion.
"Guess you'll find out what that really means."
The next day, I stood outside the training chamber.
It was nothing like I imagined.
A wide, circular room built near the outer edge of the palace grounds, half stone, half open to the air. The ceiling stretched high, with beams carved in divine symbols. A raised platform stood at the center, surrounded by seven curved benches.
Six were already filled.
They all turned as I entered.
Whispers came fast, sharp as knives.
"Why is he here?"
"He wasn't chosen."
"Then what's the point?"
Kisaya sat on the edge, arms crossed. She didn't speak. But the glare she gave them said more than I ever could.
I took my seat. Back straight. Eyes forward. My fists curled beneath the desk.
A few minutes later, the instructor entered.
He looked older than stone. Gray hair pulled back, robes clean but faded, layered in ceremonial sigils. His presence silenced the room.
He didn't waste words.
"Since you're all here, we begin."
One of the students—lean, with dark curly hair and a sharp jaw that never seemed to relax—raised a hand. He was one of the few who had muttered before, sitting with a lazy sort of confidence that didn't match the nerves in the room. His eyes held a permanent smirk, like he saw through everything and cared about none of it.
"Isn't there one too many?" he said, too loud to be innocent.
The instructor raised a single eyebrow. "No. You're all present. Let's begin."
He stepped to the center and raised his hand.
"What you see is spiritual energy. It lives in everything. But only the chosen can see it when it is used and shape it. You are vessels. Each of you will carry it differently. Some more. Some less."
He turned slightly toward the others. "It has will. It responds to your emotions, your control, your focus. The color reflects the god who blessed you. At first, your spiritual energy will appear dimmer than mine—because its purity is lower. As that purity increases, its brightness will grow accordingly. Your spiritual energy becomes more refined as the strength of your divine pact deepens. But don't worry about how to strengthen it just yet—one step at a time."
"This is my spiritual energy" he added. "Blue—the color of Nabu, god of wisdom, writing, and destiny. The soft brightness simply reflects the current state of my pact."
He closed his hand slowly, then lowered it back to his side.
I couldn't see any of it.
Just his words. Just their faces reacting. Nothing more.
"Covering your hand in spiritual energy is just the beginning. Don't let it make you overconfident. Real control comes after—when the energy pushes back. When it refuses to listen. The challenge isn't just making it appear. It's making it obey."
"Your first task is simple. Cover your hand in spiritual energy."
Another murmur.
"How?" someone asked.
"Meditation. Control. Intuition. Some may take days. Others, hours. Begin."
Silence returned as students closed their eyes and sat in focus.
Except one.
The same student raised his hand again. "And what's the prince supposed to do? Count how long it takes us?"
The instructor turned his head, slowly. "That's not your concern. Get back to training."
Everyone closed their eyes.
I didn't.
The instructor approached. Lowered his voice.
"You can't use spiritual energy. I know. The class doesn't move on until the task is complete. So until then, train with a sword. Or stay quiet."
He didn't wait for a reply.
He walked away.
And I stayed where I was.
Not chosen.
But watching.
And learning.
***
AN: Hi. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, this is my first serious attempt at writing a novel. I'd really appreciate any reviews or feedback you can offer, as they help me grow. And if you enjoy the book, please consider adding it to your library. Thank you for reading!