Five years had already passed in a blink.

  The morning sun bathed East Hollow Village in a gentle golden glow.

  Inside the Church of the Radiant Sovereign, the hall was filled with children and their families. Candles flickered along the stone walls, casting long, twisting shadows. At the far end, the altar waited, and above it hovered the unfinished crest.

  Eleven segments should have formed a perfect circle. Only seven remained. Four pieces were lost — gaps of empty gold, void where the divine touch had been severed.

  High Priest Aldren stepped forward, robes whispering against the floor. “Children, step forward. Kneel. Pray. Let the Sovereigns witness you.”

  One by one, the children approached.

  They knelt. Hands raised in reverence. Murmured prayers echoed softly.

  A glow appeared on the segments of the crest that touched each child’s essence.

  One boy’s segment shimmered with fire. “I hope I get fire!” he whispered, eyes shining.

  Another trembled under the touch of wind. “Please… just let it be wind,” he muttered.

  Water gleamed faintly at the feet of a girl. “Mother, am I doing it right?” she asked nervously.

  Earth hummed beneath another. “I… I feel it moving!” the boy exclaimed.

  Soft gasps ran through the congregation. Parents whispered among themselves. “So young… so talented…”

  Lucas stepped forward. His hands hovered above the crest. A faint pulse ran through his palms. The segment beneath him flickered to life with his Astral Essence — Wind. “It… it’s warm,” he said in awe. His cheeks flushed with pride.

  “Beautiful,” murmured a nearby parent.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Ethan and Elara followed in quick succession. Ethan’s body glowed with Astral Essence, and a blue glow of water wrapped around his small form, brushing his hair upward. “I… I feel it!” he whispered, laughing quietly.

  Elara knelt, calm and composed. Earth pulsed beneath her knees, soft vibrations that made the stone floor hum. She smiled faintly as the crest’s segment shimmered under her Astral Essence. “So steady… like it knows me,” she murmured.

  Then the high priest called, “Miha Seraphine of East Hollow.”

  She stepped forward with natural poise. Kneeling, her Astral Essence was different from the others—purer, deeper, and far more powerful.

  The segments of the crest brightened in response.

  All seven segments brightened, pulled toward her presence as if straining to connect.

  Fire ignited softly in her hair. Wind whirled around her form. Water shimmered at her feet. The earth quivered beneath her knees.

  The congregation held their breath.

  “She… she has all four!” someone whispered.

  “Unfair! How can she hold them all?” a boy muttered, jaw tight with jealousy.

  High Priest Aldren’s eyes narrowed. A shiver ran down his spine. “Impossible. A child born with power comparable to Stage Six?.”

  Miha glanced at Elias and smiled softly. “Your path is different. You’ll find your way,” her eyes said without words.

  Then the call came: “Sushank Solace of East Hollow.”

  He stepped forward, small and hesitant. Kneeling, he lowered his head. Hands folded over his knees. He whispered a prayer, heart pounding.

  Nothing.

  The crest remained unchanged. No Astral Essence. No glow touched him. No pulse.

  “Ha…” a child muttered. “Why bother? He’s useless.”

  For a moment, Sushank wondered if the gods simply could not see him.

  “Do not mock,” a parent whispered sharply. “Every child has their own path.”

  His mother, Margaret, knelt beside him. “It’s okay, my love. Strength will come with time. Not all blessings are visible at birth.”

  “Don’t be afraid of being different,” his father, Edward, added softly, lifting his chin gently. “The gods see more than what we understand.”

  Miha’s gaze met his. Calm. Reassuring. Her smile didn’t mock. It promised patience, promise, and faith.

  High Priest Aldren’s lips pressed into a thin line. A chill flickered in his heart. There is… something here. But what? he thought, then shook it off. No reason for fear.

  A strange warmth stirred in Sushank, deep inside, almost imperceptible. Not power. Not Astral Essence. Something else — small, hidden, waiting.

  Even powerless, he rose from the altar with quiet determination. His parents flanked him, steady and protective. Miha gave a small nod of encouragement before turning to leave.

  The unfinished crest remained, four segments empty. The crowd murmured, some in awe, some in envy.

  But one small boy, hands clenched at his sides, walked away quietly, carrying something no one could see.

  A seed had been planted.

  Not of power.

  But of something the crest could not recognize.