The village square was abuzz with quiet tension. The boys, standing in a loose circle, shifted uneasily as they waited. Their hands clenched and unclenched, some tugging at their tunics or adjusting their swords, others casting glances toward their families. This was the moment they had trained for, and yet, standing here now, on the brink of the ritual that would determine their futures, many felt the weight of it more than they ever had before.

The ladies of the village, dressed in simple but ceremonial robes, moved about the square, painting intricate runes on the ground with mixtures of ash and clay. Their voices rose in low, rhythmic chants, the words ancient, almost indecipherable to the untrained ear. The air itself seemed to hum with their preparation. The runes they traced on the earth glistened faintly under the setting sun, marking the boundaries of the ritual circle.

Aleksian stood off to one side, listening to his mother’s quiet words of encouragement. Her hand rested lightly on his shoulder, her fingers cool against his warm skin. He nodded as she spoke, but his gaze kept wandering over to his father, who stood next to her, arms folded across his chest, watching silently. The man’s face was impassive, but Aleksian had learned to read the small tells—the slight furrow in his brow, the tension in his jaw. His father was proud, though he’d never say it outright.

"You’ll do fine," his mother said softly, giving his shoulder a squeeze. "Remember, the unfolding isn’t something you can force. Let it speak to you, and it will guide you."

Aleksian gave her a small smile, though his heart raced in his chest. His mother had always been calm in the face of things like this. It was her way, just as it had been her mother’s, and her mother’s before that. The women of their Welltide carried the knowledge of rituals, passed down through generations. But today, all eyes were on the boys—on their sons.

He thanked her with a quiet nod, stepping away to join the others. Delrick stood a little apart from the crowd, his face drawn with worry. Aleksian could see his friend’s eyes darting around, searching for someone. He didn’t need to guess who.

"She’ll be here," Aleksian said as he walked up, his voice low but reassuring. "Mariya wouldn’t miss this. You know that."

Delrick glanced at him, opening his mouth to respond, but just as the words formed, he froze. Aleksian followed his friend’s gaze and saw her—Mariya, slipping into the square beside her family. She was late, as usual, but she was there. She caught their eyes across the distance and offered a small wave, her mouth curling into a lopsided grin.

Delrick’s shoulders relaxed, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched her. "Thank the stars," he murmured, the tension draining from his body. The rough parting from earlier no longer seemed to weigh as heavily on him, not when she was here, standing among her family, watching them with that unwavering loyalty they both cherished so much.

Aleksian chuckled softly, clapping a hand on Delrick’s shoulder. "See? I told you."

They both looked at Mariya, a quiet sense of relief settling over them. She always had a way of showing up when it mattered most, even when the future felt uncertain. And now, as they stood on the cusp of something monumental, her presence was a comforting anchor, a reminder of the bond they shared.

But even in the midst of their relief, there was a gnawing truth that neither could shake. They were about to step into a new world—a world Mariya wouldn’t be able to follow them into. Not yet. And the thought of not being there for her when she took her own journey, when she faced her own challenges, twisted something deep inside them both.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The head lady of the ritual approached the circle, her voice rising above the quiet murmurs of the crowd. The other women gathered with her, their hands raised as they began to sing in unison. The haunting melody filled the air, echoing off the stones of the village square. It was a song of the earth, of nature itself, one that evoked both sorrow and hope, longing and fervor. The runes on the ground pulsed in time with the rhythm, glowing faintly as the energy of the ritual began to stir.

Aleksian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. This was it—the opening.

The head lady stepped forward, her voice cutting through the song, calling the boys to gather within the circle. One by one, they moved toward the glowing runes, stepping carefully inside. The village square seemed to fall away, the rest of the world shrinking until only the circle, the boys, and the chanting women remained. Aleksian could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the weight of his father’s gaze heavy on his back.

Delrick took his place beside him, his usual bravado replaced by a tense silence. They shared a quick glance—no words were needed. Whatever happened next, they were in this together.

The head lady raised her hands, her voice lifting with the other women’s, the melody growing stronger, more intense. Aleksian felt the ground beneath him tremble slightly, the energy in the air thickening. The runes around them flared to life, glowing a deep, crimson red. He could feel something tugging at the edges of his consciousness, like the pull of a strong current beneath still waters.

The opening.

The sensation was sudden and overwhelming, like plunging into icy water. Aleksian gasped, his eyes rolling back as his mind was wrenched into a new plane—a place where the boundaries between self and world dissolved. He felt the rush of nature’s presence all around him, flooding his senses with a thousand new sensations, a thousand unfamiliar sights, sounds, and feelings. It was as if the world had unfolded itself before him, revealing layers of reality he had never known existed.

Beside him, Delrick stood with his eyes wide, his mouth slightly agape, whispering the words of the song, though Aleksian could tell he was no longer aware of the world around them. All the boys stood like statues, their minds drifting into the unfolding, caught in the rush of this new experience.

For a moment, Aleksian felt lost in the chaos. The world around him—no, the world *inside* him—swirled with strange visions. Colors he had no names for, sounds that weren’t sounds but sensations, thoughts that weren’t his but the earth’s itself. And in the distance, at the farthest reaches of his perception, he felt it—the unfolding of nature.

Phenomena, they called it. Nature’s voice, speaking in a language so primal, so abstract, that only those in tune with their inner selves could even hope to grasp it. He had to find it. He had to find the one that resonated with him, the one that would become the seed of his prestige.

But what would he find? What would Delrick find? Not all phenomena were equal. Some were too abstract, too distant for young minds to understand. If they failed to find something that resonated deeply with them, their journey as seekers would be even more difficult, their prestige never fully realized.

The village families stood just beyond the ritual circle, watching with bated breath. Aleksian’s mother’s hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her face lined with quiet hope. His father’s stoic expression hadn’t changed, but there was a weight to his gaze, a silent prayer that his son would succeed where so many had faltered.

Delrick’s family stood close by, his father giving him a firm nod before the ritual began, but now his younger sister’s face was pale with worry. They, like the rest of the villagers, knew that the boys who stood in the ritual circle would return changed—or not return at all, in the ways that mattered most.

The song continued, the women’s voices rising higher and higher, filling the square with the sound of nature’s call. And as the runes pulsed with light, Aleksian and Delrick, like the others, let go of their fear, their doubt, and drifted fully into the unfolding.

The journey had begun.