In the end, it was the emperor who came out of the contest the victor. The crowd roared with excitement, Amaro the loudest of all. Even if he could only experience this victory against his father vicariously, it was still a victory nonetheless. Amaro made sure to burn this moment into his memory.

He watched as the emperor, face covered in Malaki meat, accepted a large scroll embroidered with jewels and laced with gold.

“That looks like…” Amaro trailed off. There was no doubt about it, the bestiary was not a simple book or scroll; It was an Ux scroll. If that was the case, it meant they could be created somehow. It made sense, though. If one could experience the monster’s weaknesses through the scroll, they would be far more equipped to fight that monster than if they had simply read about it. It was no wonder all the nobility had risked their dignity for it.

The emperor stood before the crowd, calling their attention, “My friends, I thank you for this honor. I am happy to see the messy faces of my great allies. Though I may have won this scroll, as the emperor this is not a victory for Ilmalak Alveridan, but for the people of Itaro as a whole! With this knowledge, I will work to defend Itaro from the scourge of the Malaki. I will commission copies to be made immediately, and offered as a trade good so that you may all defend your fiefs from danger as well. I wish you all a safe and prosperous evening. Under Malikala the Sun Eater we celebrate life, so that we may face death with a grin. May our ancestors smile down upon us! Inkagloria ku Itaro!”

“Inkagloria ku Itaro!” The crowd shouted back.

Amaro recalled it was a draconic phrase meaning ‘glory to Itaro’. He wondered why they could not just say ‘glory to Itaro’, but perhaps it sounded cooler to occasionally speak draconic. Despite having scarfed down an entire meat pie, Amaro was still hungry. Lucky for him, the rest of the day was filled with feasting and celebration. He reunited with his siblings, wiping the meat pie from his face.

He thought back to how slow time had been moving before, but now it was moving too quick. All of it was such a strange blur of excitement, passion, and joy. Right up until floating lanterns lit up the night sky like stars joining the heavens. Sancta had left their group early to prepare for the next part of the event. When he heard the rhythmic thrumming of drums, he knew to return to the center of the camp. Raktus had pulled numerous skewers filled with malaki meat, eating as many at a time as he could. Tulos was wearing a human trinket which allowed him to send sparks from his hands.

Anitus, however, did not partake in the festivities like his siblings did. Though he did not isolate himself either. Amaro felt he could understand. Even Anitus, who hid all of his inhibitions beneath a stone-faced facade, was afraid of the night. Amaro clasped his hand on his brother’s shoulder, “Not much left to do now, but enjoy these last few moments, brother. We’ll be sure to have more in the future.”

Anitus clicked his tongue, looking away. Amaro smiled. He knew he had gotten through, but Anitus did not like to show it.

As they arrived at the center of the camp, several stones had been set up. They directed all of the children to gather at one side of the murmuring crowd. As the drums started up again, the crowd fell silent. The wind itself vibrated like instruments, playing a somber tune as tribal dancers entered the circle. Each of them wore ornately crafted head dresses. Phoenixes, drakes, tigers, bears, and wolves. It was hard to tell which one was Sancta, and which was Kaara.

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Perhaps that was what allowed Amaro to enjoy it even more. He was able to appreciate all of the dancer’s efforts, not just the ones he knew. They each stomped, twirled, and weaved in rhythm with the somber music. They collapsed to the ground, the first half coming to a close as fire erupted in the center. A towering puppet appearing out of thin air depicting a great serpentine dragon. Amaro noticed the legs were not xiozian, but that of drakes and wulviir. They circled around the fallen animals, the jaws of the puppet dragon opening and biting down on its own tail.

The music kicked up as the dancers activated their magic. Fire, water, earth, wind, and life. The original five elements weaved together in unison, a small tree sprouting from the pillar of fire. A warm glow overtook the area. Amaro could feel the music thrumming in his chest. The excitement and anticipation. Each tone played in harmony with his soul. He felt he could take on the world itself. No, not just that he could take on the world. He felt aligned with the world. As if the world was pushing him forward instead of mounting atop his shoulders.

Amaro noticed sparks coming from his body. His magic was leaking out. He had to focus just to keep it contained. So that’s what this ritual was about. It was meant to give them a fighting chance.

Though they might march out alone, the adults had not left them without some help. The younger dancers left the circle to change clothes while the adults remained behind. Their chief, Septis Tibur, entered the center of the circle. Floating behind them were dozens of beautifully crafted spears. The spearheads each had a unique wave pattern.

“Those are the spears you crafted?” Amaro said, looking at Tulos.

His brother nodded, a prideful smile on his face, “Yup, I think they came out pretty good too. All of them are damascus steel grade quality, so you should be able to amplify your spells through them.”

“Quite impressive that you managed to make them.”

“Lost a lot of sleep to do it, but I think it was worth it.”

The spears floated over to the crowd of children participating in the ceremony.

“Children of Itaro,” The chief said, “This is your final choice. Take the spear, and mark the beginning of your new life as a warrior and defender of Itaro, or abstain and rejoin your family for at least one more year. There is no shame in abstaining. Your life is and always will be yours to do with as you see fit.”

Even if Amaro wanted to opt out, it was not as if he had a choice. He doubted the other nobility had a choice in the matter either. They either took the spear, or returned to their families in shame. Sancta stepped in next to him.

“Ew you’re sweaty,” Tulos said.

“What? I thought I- No I’m not!”

“Just jokes, sister. Wonderful performance. Which one were you?”

“I’ll tell you if we survive this, now hush.”

“If you seek to walk the path of a legend, then your first step is marked in blood. Cut your palm, and claim your spear. Let the water of life flow down its shaft, and bond with the weapon.”

No one stepped forward. Amaro felt as if he was paralyzed. The realization of what he was about to do hit him. He was marching to his death. The spear would not matter. He was only a child. An insignificant child, who had thought himself invincible up until a few days ago. His heart was beating out of his chest. He had never met a Malaki, but for some reason, he felt he knew what they were like. Perhaps something lingered deep within his soul. Something his mind had forgotten, but his soul had not. He knew, instinctively, what taking that spear meant, but he could not put it to words. Amaro looked around, noticing that everyone else was hesitating as well. They were watching to see who would be the first to claim their spear.

Who was the most courageous among them?