All eyes were on Samael.

  The battlefield trembled under the sheer force of Etherea radiating from his body, waves of power rippling outward, distorting the air itself.

  Uriel’s heart pounded in her chest, “What is he trying to do?”

  "STOP HIM!" Metatron’s voice thundered across the frozen expanse.

  Samael ignored the command. His fingers turned the pages of the sacred tome, faster this time. He scanned the forbidden words, his voice a low, steady chant that carried through the howling wind.

  And then—the world itself began to break.

  A violent tremor surged through the battlefield, splitting the ice beneath their feet. Jagged cracks raced outward, deep and unrelenting.

  The celestial warriors staggered as the once-solid ground beneath them fractured and crumbled.

  Then, suddenly, the tome ripped itself from Samael’s grasp, rising high into the stormy sky.

  And then—it shattered.

  The pages burst free, scattering like falling stars.

  Some soared far beyond the clouds, vanishing into the unknown.

  But most—most plummeted through the fractured ice, disappearing into the Material Plane below.

  Metatron’s fury burned through the chaos.

  "DAMN YOU, SAMAEL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

  But Samael did not answer him.

  He looked at Uriel instead. Their gazes locked—gold meeting gold, light meeting shadow.

  A ghost of a smile touched his lips. One filled with longing. With farewell.

  And then—black fire erupted from his body.

  The explosion consumed everything.

  And then—darkness.

  ===

  A young boy, no older than seven, gasped awake.

  His chest heaved, his body drenched in sweat.

  His small hand trembled as he wiped his forehead, pushing back locks of jet-black hair damp with perspiration.

  His breathing slowed, but the pounding in his heart did not fade.

  He rose from his bed, his bare feet touching the cold floor, and stepped toward the window. With careful hands, he unlatched it.

  A cool night breeze swept into the room, brushing against his face, stirring his dark hair.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply.

  Then, his gaze lifted toward the moon.

  “That nightmare again…”, His thoughts echoed in his mind, heavy with an unspoken weight.

  His room was on the third floor of a grand castle, overlooking an expansive courtyard. Below, torch-bearing guards patrolled the castle walls, their silhouettes moving against the flickering light.

  Beyond the castle’s perimeter, a densely packed city stretched into the distance, its streets quiet under the moonlit sky. And far beyond that, at the very edge of the horizon, loomed an immense outer wall—the final barrier that separated the city from the world beyond.

  The boy exhaled, long and slow.

  “What does this dream mean? This is the third time…”

  A faint presence stirred near his door.

  A flicker of Etherea—small, but unmistakably alive. Familiar.

  A rapid series of knocks suddenly echoed against the wood.

  "Big Brother Revan! Are you awake?!"

  The voice was young, eager, and impatient.

  Revan sighed, already knowing the source.

  He didn’t need to open the door to recognize the presence on the other side.

  “Xander…”

  His five-year-old younger brother—the third son of House Vaelgrim.

  "Tonight is Caelan’s High Moon Trial!" Xander’s excited voice rang from the hallway.

  Revan smiled faintly. Of course.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  "I’ll get ready. You go ahead to the Hall of Shadow."

  But before he could take another breath, the door burst open.

  A small, dark-haired boy came rushing into the room, his bright eyes sparkling with excitement.

  Xander grinned up at him, practically bouncing on his feet.

  "I’ll wait for you!"

  Revan chuckled.

  "Why are you so excited?"

  Xander’s face lit up.

  "Because this is the first time I’ve ever stayed up this late!"

  Revan shook his head, amused, as he walked toward his wardrobe. Inside, his House Vaelgrim uniform was neatly arranged, ready for the night’s events.

  Meanwhile, Xander scurried toward the sofa, plopping down in a slouched position, his excitement barely masking his drowsiness.

  Revan glanced at him, his smirk widening.

  "Why are you alone? Where’s Diana?"

  "She was right behind me… but I think I was faster."

  Revan’s brow raised.

  "Father will scold you if you keep making Diana chase after you."

  Xander pouted.

  "You always get scolded, and you never care."

  Revan laughed. "That’s different."

  A moment later, a breathless figure appeared at the door.

  A young woman in a maid’s uniform—Diana.

  She looked like she had run across the entire castle.

  "Young… Lord… Xander!" she huffed, hands on her knees.

  Her frustration lasted all of two seconds before she marched over and yanked Xander by the ear.

  "Aww… aww…! I’m sorry, Maid Diana! You were too slow!"

  "Too slow?" Diana seethed. "You used Etherea to boost your speed and ran around the entire castle before coming here!"

  "Ouchhh…! It hurts…! Big Brother, help me!"

  Revan leaned against the wardrobe, smirking.

  "You brought this on yourself, Xander."

  Xander groaned dramatically, but Revan had already fastened his sword to his waist.

  “I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

  "I’m ready. Let’s go."

  Diana finally released Xander, though her scolding glare remained sharp.

  As they stepped out into the dimly lit hallways, their destination loomed ahead—

  A place hidden beneath the castle. A place known as the Hall of Shadow. A place where tonight—a trial awaited.

  Several figures had already gathered—distant relatives, members of a lesser branch of House Vaelgrim. Though they shared the same bloodline, tonight was not about them.

  Standing at the entrance, waiting to greet them, was a Guard Captain. His armor bore the emblem of House Vaelgrim, polished and pristine.

  As Revan and Xander approached, the captain bowed deeply, acknowledging them with proper respect. Then, his gaze flickered toward Diana, his lips curling into a faint smile before he nodded in silent recognition.

  Without a word, he gestured for them to follow.

  Their seats had been prepared—a section reserved exclusively for the Main Branch of House Vaelgrim.

  As they stepped forward, Revan’s eyes immediately fell on a woman seated with effortless grace, her presence commanding yet warm. She exuded quiet strength, the kind that came from noble lineage and unwavering discipline.

  Before her stood a boy—tall for his age, around eleven—his posture relaxed, but his mother’s hands still fussed over his ceremonial attire.

  His onyx-colored eyes reflected the dim torchlight as he sighed in mild exasperation.

  "Mother, my clothes are already fine."

  The woman merely smiled, adjusting the folds of his formal robe with practiced ease.

  “I know, Caelan, but tonight is important for House Vaelgrim."

  Her words were spoken not as a correction, but as a quiet decree.

  Her icy-blue hair shimmered faintly under the torchlight, a rare contrast to the deep onyx eyes that marked her as part of Vaelgrim now.

  Even clad in Vaelgrim’s colors, her heritage was unmistakable. She had not been born into this house—she had become part of it through marriage to the Patriarch.

  When she turned to Revan and Xander, her expression softened, her regal demeanor giving way to a warmer, more familiar presence.

  "I’ve prepared seats for you. Sit here."

  She gestured to two grand chairs beside her—ornate, though not quite as elaborate as the one she occupied.

  However, to her right, there was another seat—larger, more imposing, its presence unmistakable.

  "You didn’t forget what tonight is, did you?"

  Caelan leaned slightly toward Revan, his onyx gaze narrowing playfully.

  Revan smirked. "Relax. As if I’d forget your big night."

  Caelan arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Like how you 'didn’t forget' my birthday banquet?"

  Revan chuckled. "That was different. The food was too good. Made me sleepy."

  "You literally slept through half of it."

  "And I made it up to you with a gift, didn’t I?"

  Caelan rolled his onyx eyes, but there was no real anger—just playful exasperation.

  "Yeah, yeah. Just don’t snore through my High Moon Trial, too."

  Xander snickered from beside them, his own onyx gaze sparkling with mischief.

  "If he does, I’ll pour ice water on him."

  Caelan smirked.

  "Deal."

  Revan only shook his head, grinning at their antics.

  And then—the air shifted. A pressure settled over the chamber—dense, heavy, unrelenting.

  A gust of wind howled through the room, carrying with it an unmistakable force—a pulse of Etherea, raw and absolute.

  The torches flickered. And then—they died.

  Darkness swallowed the chamber.

  From the center of the training hall, a swirling mass of black fire erupted, spiraling upward like a storm made of shadow.

  The air vibrated, thick with energy.

  And then—from within the inferno, a figure stepped forward.

  A man.

  His footsteps echoed in the silence, slow, measured, yet impossibly heavy.

  He carried a lantern, but its glow did not come from fire—it came from a single luminous stone, white as the moon, yet pulsing with ethereal light.

  The darkness seemed to bend around him, folding into his presence like an obedient force.

  A hush fell over the chamber.

  Even the most hardened warriors of House Vaelgrim stood in silent reverence.

  And then—he spoke.

  "The hour has come."

  His voice was deep, steady, and absolute.

  "Caelan Vaelgrim—step forward."

  The command rang through the hall, final and unwavering.

  Revan exhaled slowly, his grip tightening around his sword’s hilt.

  He had seen his father many times before. But tonight—something felt different.

  The High Moon Trial had begun.