One of the biggest problems with the final test to become a Silver Herald is that awakening your Aura can consume you completely. Some are torn apart from the inside out. Others... simply explode. It's a risk everyone there is willing to take. Years of training prepare body and mind — but the truth is, things don't always go as expected. Some die. And others awaken an Aura strong enough to rival the Mana of a Calamiti.
Many of those present already displayed theirs subtly, whether by testing reflexes with knife throws or leaping from one spot to another without being easily noticed.
According to Eren Belalvo, in his book An Analysis of the Concept of Soul, Body, and Aura, the descendants of Charia awaken powers that reflect the essence of their being. Usually, they are physical enhancements — endurance, immunity, speed, stealth. There are even rarer cases, like the Monteiro family, who refined their Aura to the point of elemental control. The first of the line, Devian Monteiro, was known for his command over earth. The current Archduke, Carmelius, can create and manipulate ice and snow.
This year, many awaited eagerly to see what ability would be awakened by the last descendant: Skylartte Monteiro.
Unlike the others, Miss Skylartte did not train with the other candidates, nor did she have contact with the rookie Heralds. She's an archducal princess, of course — and for her safety, it was decreed that she would only be presented to the Heralds and Eldrian society upon turning 20.
A huge nonsense, in Leo's view.
Looking at her own hand wrapped around the mug, Leo tried pressing hard enough to dent the metal, squeezing until her palm throbbed in pain. Apparently, it wasn't super strength this time.
And where were the electrifying threads that were supposed to pull her? The burning sensation others described? Inside her, everything remained dead silent. Nothing. No spark, no sign.
She shouldn't be here. Maybe her Aura was recalibrating to its new form... or napping.
And what if her Aura was weak? Pathetic, even?
No, not now. This wasn't the time for those thoughts — not when she was so close. Others had died so she could be here today. So she could keep going and fulfill what they never could. And still, part of her wanted to scream at the gods, at the instructors, at the entire hall. She wanted to break the jaw of anyone who said she didn't deserve to be there. For now, she just chewed her anguish — with the same force she crushed her mug.
"I've met Leo from the first to the fifth drink... but the sixth one? That's a whole other story," said Tamaya, suddenly appearing beside her like someone who shows up just in time to save the scene.
Tall, with short braids tight to her scalp and radiant dark skin under the warm light of the hall, Tamaya slid a plate of roast meat, rice, and salad toward her friend. The smell was irresistible, and Leo's stomach growled loudly. She'd been so anxious about the Graduation Ceremony — and so confused about her Awakening — that she hadn't eaten in hours.
She hadn't even offered anything to the dead — how could she join the others in their tributes?
"You gonna eat or insult the person who brought you food? My mom would call that rude," Tamaya said firmly, with that look that left no room for argument.
"Oh no... definitely don't want a scolding from Magna," Leo gave in, pulling the plate and taking a generous bite. Only then did she realize how hungry she was. The meat was soft, juicy, with a slightly spicy aroma that enveloped her senses. She looked at Tamaya with a half-comic expression, like someone silently asking: "What's in this?"
"Venison. With a green sauce I'm experimenting with. Well? Is it good?" Tamaya asked, already knowing the answer, her pride clear.
"No need to say a thing... you're practically licking your fingers," she laughed, seeing her friend with sauce-smeared lips, like a child discovering a new flavor.
Leo wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin and took another sip of now-warm beer. She wasn't drunk, as her friend probably thought. Even with that amount, she seemed to have the same resistance as Revian, the minotaur guard. Maybe her Aura really was "High alcohol tolerance." Very useful. Especially in tavern brawls.
"You okay?" Tamaya asked. Her voice carried a mix of concern and forced lightness.
For a moment, Leo shifted on the bench. After everything they'd been through, any moment of peace should be a cause for celebration — not a reminder of what (or who) was left behind.
Before answering, Leo looked around. She saw familiar faces, those who had been with her from the beginning. But also noticed the empty seats.
When she entered the hall and saw them alive, serving themselves meat and beer, she felt relief. For being alive. For them being alive.
But it wasn't easy.
Your partners may die one day — and they will. Carry that weight like a shroud on your back.
"I think it's hard to say something like that today..." she began, voice low. "Maybe being here already means something."
Tamaya leaned across the table, fingers gliding over the rim of her mug.
"I think so. You know, I'm not a great swordswoman or anything... but Inácio would've loved to try this," she said, pointing at the plate.
Leo stayed quiet. She recognized her friend's attempt to find comfort in something familiar.
"We promised that... if we made it to tonight's dinner, we'd cook together..." Tamaya squinted, biting her trembling lips, struggling to hold back emotion.
"I know we shouldn't expect others to come back after the ceremony..." her voice cracked. "But I swear I tried. I believed he'd be here."
Tamaya broke down slowly, hiding her face in her hands. Leo gripped her shoulder tightly, a silent gesture of comfort.
Don't get attached. Don't make friends. Don't become "one." That's the first lesson you learn here. Herald candidates should never rely on their partners. Let alone hope for them, as the training suggests.
But it's hard to live by a rule that denies you even the right to hope.
Honoring the dead hurts even more when you cared.
They weren't exactly a couple — at least not that Leo knew of. More like soul siblings. They came here together as children, grew and trained side by side. Inácio was a great swordsman, as skilled with blades as Leo. On Thursday mornings, while she trained, she often found him throwing daggers at targets and ended up joining him. They were never exactly friends, or anything like that, just bonded over the same desire:
To be here.
With the skills they had, both should be alive. But only one was here to tell the tale. Somehow, miraculously, it was her.
And now, all they had... was this.
"He should be here..." she whispered, breaking the heavy silence. Her voice held no anger, only a sorrow sharp as a blade.
Swallowing hard, she searched for the right words.
"Then... let's eat for him. I think, wherever Erno took him, he'd be disappointed to know you still haven't eaten anything he made," Leo said, dark circles marking her youthful face. But she smiled. Not with joy, but as someone still trying to believe she had really survived the Awakening.
"And drink." She raised her mug. "Definitely drink for him."
Comforting words had never been Leo's strength. She didn't quite understand the pain of loss, since she had never lost someone that close. She always kept a safe distance from everyone. And even saying she felt nothing... deep down, she wished they were still there, that they had made it through together.
What made her more deserving than them?
Comforting words had never been Leo's strength. She didn't quite understand the pain of loss, since she had never lost someone that close. She always kept a safe distance from everyone. And even saying she felt nothing... deep down, she wished they were still there, that they had made it through together.
What made them less deserving than her?
On the other side of the table, an older man approached, carrying a bowl in trembling hands. He must've been around 28 — an ancient age, considering the average survival rate around there. Disheveled hair, a fresh scar on his forehead. From what little she remembered, his name was Mariano. He sat heavily on the bench in front of her and, as if he had heard the whole conversation (which he probably had), said:
"We survived. That's what matters now."
It sounded more like a failed attempt at self-help than any genuine sentiment.
His calloused fingers were covered in dirt and dried blood. He'd gone hunting with the others, but clearly didn't think cleaning up before dinner was necessary. Understandable. A bath, in this context, was practically a consolation prize. And let's be honest, Awakening dragged each one's demons to the surface.
"You should stop clinging to the dead... or you'll just keep crying every day," he added, with all the sensitivity of a brick, while holding a chicken leg with those filthy hands.
In disbelief, Leo felt Tamaya's heavy breathing beside her — rage simmering.
"Go to hell, Serqueira!" Tamaya, who until then only wanted a moment of peace, exploded, knocking his mug to the ground and abruptly leaving the table.
Leo thought about calling her back, but… knowing Tamaya, it was better to let her cool off.
"A shame. That one was cold too," he muttered, picking the mug off the floor and grumbling like the greatest crime of the night had been wasting a chilled drink. Then he turned to Leo: "If you're gonna throw something, just don't let it be my plate. Unlike some, I hunted the meat on it."
She ignored him. Not because she agreed, but because she was just too tired to be bothered.
Giving in would be the same as accepting someone else's 'truth.' And that... could lead her to ruin. And in the end… what path didn't?
In the corner of the hall, a small group huddled near the large brazier. Rain began to drum against the narrow windows, while distant thunder reminded them that the outside world remained merciless — as always.
The end of the tests lingered in the air like a thick cloud of uncertainty, stirring an uncomfortable blend of fear, anxiety, and a generous dose of collective depression.
A cold breeze dared to play with Leo's long braids. Yawning in exhaustion, she pulled on her second coat, wrapping herself like a melancholic burrito. That was not a good sign.
Everyone looked half-dead and almost drunk, far too unprepared to be seen as future Heralds.
Outside, the night blew cutting winds, and one by one, the surviving candidates paid their respects to the dead by tossing their empty mugs into the fire — a silent, improvised ritual. It was symbolic. A mute tribute. Maybe useless. But just beautiful enough to give some meaning to the tragedy.
Mariano was the first to get up, leaving the table without a word. He didn't seem interested in interactions — which maybe made him the most sensible of them all. Apparently, he hadn't lost anyone. Yet he still honored the fallen. Out of empathy? Politeness? The food? Who knew. At this point, even a piece of dry bread could be reason enough for sentimentality.
Then, in the heavy air of subdued grief and alcohol, silence was shattered — almost literally — by a dry punch to the wood. Leo's mug spilled instantly with the violent impact.
Brukk had arrived. Because of course the orc would make an entrance worthy of a riot.
Leo didn't even bother looking surprised. The others at the table, however, looked ready to punch him in the face. Understandably.
"This time I won't lose, Thalion! I challenge you to taste the Fire of the Depths!" Brukk bellowed, his voice loud and hoarse, echoing through the farthest corners of the Great House. His enthusiasm bordered on madness, and his determination suggested he had mistaken the hall for an arena.
If it had been yesterday, they'd all be dragged to the Towers and properly punished. But today... they were still just candidates.
The room's previous sacred silence now turned into a minefield of emotional tension. And between trying to sleep or drink — guess which option won? Exactly.
The group drunkenness now included, of course, the new guards and knights of Montreal. Unlike the near-suicidal Herald trials, becoming a guard or scout had a much higher survival rate, and even Demerians could earn a spot in the archduchy's ranks.
Demerians were citizens from Demeria, the Lands Beyond, children of Rheos, a place populated by a wide variety of species — fairies, demons, mermaids, minotaurs, and others.
That land was devastated after the "Great Massacre." No route back was ever found — or allowed.
Sure, sheltering Demerians in their lands was risky, with the Emperor hunting, enslaving, and killing any he found.
But the agreement between Camalia and Adaria established that if a Demerian assumed another citizenship and had an 'Owner' — a citizen who purchased and claimed responsibility for them — they could live in peace. Or something close to it.
Another important detail: Demerians couldn't be Heralds.
Why? Magic.
Magic was part of their very essence, something they were born with, embedded in body, mind, and soul. It could shape muscles, mind, even spectral manifestations. Magic made them unique... and incompatible.
Magic was present from birth and its power didn't change — you were born powerful or not.
Aura, on the other hand, was exclusive to Charia's descendants — the Audreans. An extension of the soul that could be trained, expanded, refined. At 55%, one could manipulate elements to some extent.
Among the knights — not Heralds — were two of Leo's friends: Brukk, the massive, emotionally unstable orc, and Thalion, the wind elf, graceful and constantly irritated by the former's dramatic outbursts.
"You're not making any sense, Brukk... and you've only had ONE mug," Leo stressed. "Are you sure you want to propose a challenge?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tamaya return to the table, taking a deep breath and rubbing her forehead with two fingers — the universal sign for "I can't deal with this nonsense today."
"Buddy, none of us has the strength to carry you up to the seventh floor... so, just a tip: tone it down."
To her right, Rugh sat calmly. His straight hair tied in a neat bun, his tanned skin glowing under the firelight, and that smile of someone who'd seen worse but still tried to be kind. He was a year older than Leo, but his maturity and demeanor gave him the air of a tired tutor wrangling a chaotic group.
And he was right, Brukk was the largest and bulkiest among them, almost like a wall of gray-blue stone. What he lacked in patience, he made up for in muscles — and in unshakable loyalty to this little group.
"Of course I'm sure! Since when have I not been sure of my plans?" Brukk replied, excited.
"I could name several moments. Like in January, when you decided to rip off the head of a red hexaregue, fully aware it could regenerate in seconds. Or the time you..."
Oh, right. Leo hadn't been there. She'd only heard the stories later — and honestly, that was enough.
"Shut up, Stughri. I didn't ask for your opinion," Brukk grumbled, pointing at her in irritation.
"Suit yourself. Just don't make me come back from the next mission covered in stomach fluids. I spent a week trying to get that smell out of my hair," she retorted, genuine disgust in her voice. If looks could kill, Brukk would be on the floor.
"Hey, Bellius, what about you? Gonna keep staring at that mug all night? Your beer's probably warm by now," Rugh teased, settling in beside Tamaya. His firm voice snapped Leo out of her daydream.
To hide more than she wanted to reveal, she gave a crooked smile and shot back with mockery: "I'm just waiting for you to stop talking and finally follow through on your challenge."
"Oh, that's what you wanna see? Then brace yourself!"
"Hey, wait a sec! That challenge was mine, wasn't it?" Thalion interrupted, excited. "I'm the one who's gonna win this!"
Without further ado, the three friends raised their mugs at Rugh's signal. In one swift motion, they downed the golden liquid, under the amused eyes of the crowd around them. One, two, three gulps... The empty mugs slammed onto the table.
Thalion and Brukk, faces flushed and eyes half-shut, sank into their chairs, their bodies slumping like gravity had doubled just for them. Between burps, they looked ready to pass out.
Rugh, on the other hand, unfazed, was already downing his tenth mug like it was water.
The girls exchanged surprised glances, stunned by his stamina.
"But... what's your secret?!" Tamaya asked, half-laughing.
Rugh wiped his lips with the back of his hand, winked playfully, and replied with a mysterious air:
"If I told you, I'd have to share the win." - — asked Tamaya, almost laughing.Rugh wiped his lips with the back of his hand, gave a mischievous wink, and replied with an air of mystery:— If I told you, I'd have to share the victory.Laughter still echoed through the tavern, muffled by the sound of clinking mugs and overlapping conversations. But Leo, despite the brief smile she had given earlier, was sinking back into the silence that surrounded her like a thick fog.Brukk let out a grunt and, limp, slumped sideways onto the table with a dull thud, drawing more laughter from those nearby.— Brukk's down — muttered Thalion, swaying as he tried to stand, eyes half-closed. — I think… I won?— What you won was a headache for tomorrow… I mean, do elves get headaches? — asked Rugh, laughing as he stood too. He looked at the two companions and shook his head good-naturedly. — I'll get these two to the dorm before they wake up on the floor.He approached Brukk, supporting him by the shoulders, asking Thalion to help, and turned to Bellius with a lighter yet attentive look:— Don't take too long. Especially you, Bellius — his dark brown eyes scanned her up and down, as if reading her thoughts — the ceremony won't be the same without your grumpy face around.She nodded with a discreet smile.—You need to deal with my beauty at least once a day, so you can survive, Madeleo.— Ah, Tamaya… — Rugh turned briefly, as if remembering something important — You still haven't told us what ability you gained after awakening your Aura.Tamaya gave a sly smile, crossing her arms and leaning forward slightly, like someone who enjoys the suspense they're about to create. Her eyes sparkled, and she shot Rugh a mischievous look:— You'll see tomorrow, handsome.She then turned to Leo, who turned her head to the side as if no longer interested in their conversation.Tamaya stepped closer, still curious:— And you, Leo? Will you tell us?Even cornered, she tried to remain calm. A silent weight tightened in her chest. She didn't want to talk about it, not now. Not when she herself wasn't sure what had happened.She took a deep breath, searching for a reply, but only looked away, whispering:— I'd rather wait until tomorrow…Silence briefly fell over the table, and Rugh, sensing the tension, nodded, understanding that some battles take time.That was the cue for Thalion, still dazed, to mumble with hiccups:— I think... I'm heading out too…And so, with Rugh's help, he began to leave, leaning on his friend.Alright. Tomorrow she, Tamaya, and Rugh would officially become Silver Heralds.She forced a smile, nodded slightly, and watched as Rugh guided the nearly unconscious pair out of the dining hall.Now almost alone, with the surrounding chatter feeling distant and muffled, Leo looked down at her hand again.No answer.The emptiness was strange, uncomfortable. As if something inside her had broken — or worse, was slowly fading away. Her mind, usually sharp, seemed wrapped in a thick, cold fog, where thoughts drifted freely, formless. The absence of the Aura wasn't just a failure. It was a warning. A bad omen.She dug her nails into her palm, as if trying to grasp something slipping through the invisible fingers of fate.— Are you okay? — Tamaya asked again, softly.Leo blinked, returning to the present. She forced a tired smile that didn't reach her eyes.— Just… tired. I think I need some rest.Tamaya nodded gently, not pressing further.Leo stood with controlled, almost careful movements, as if fearing that any misstep would make her even more vulnerable.— I'll head up. I want to be fully ready tomorrow. — she said quietly.And then she left, crossing the door that led to the hallway. The wood creaked beneath her feet, and the cheerful noise of the dining hall faded behind her, muffled.Outside, the wind howled, echoing her insecurities. They parted with brief nods and restrained words, each lost in their own thoughts.The night embraced her as she stepped out of the hall, carrying with it the uncertainty of the future and the faint hope that, in the end, it would all be worth it.They say that at birth, your destiny is already chosen by the gods.And Leo believed that all these hardships and this claustrophobia surrounding her had a purpose, a greater reason.It would make her thrive.Tomorrow, nothing would go wrong.