The sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the village as if mocking the dread pooling in Mira's stomach. It had been two weeks since she met Lyra, the mysterious goddess whose words still lingered in her mind like a riddle. Two weeks since Lia left the village to continue her journey. The absence of the spirited outcast made Mira’s days feel heavier, especially knowing what awaited her today.

She sat on the edge of her bed, glaring at the faint cracks in the wooden floorboards, trying to suppress the wave of nausea building within her. “Fourteen,” she muttered under her breath. “Today, I turn fourteen.”

Turning fourteen wasn’t just a milestone in this world—it was the day she would awaken her system and choose a class, a moment that would define the rest of her life. But there was more, something far worse. Today, Mira would also meet her groom.

The mere thought made her skin crawl. “Ew,” she groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Just kill me already. As if these ridiculous periods aren’t enough to make me want to jump off a cliff, now I have to meet some random man and prepare to—” She gagged at the thought. “—marry him, bear his children, and spend my life serving him. Ew, ew, ew! Somebody just kill me!”

The sound of hurried footsteps snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. Before she could react, the door burst open, and Lucas barged in, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“Happy birthday, Mira!” he shouted cheerfully.

“Lucas!” Mira yelled, shooting to her feet. “How many times have I told you not to barge into my room without knocking?”

Lucas shrugged, completely unfazed by her anger. “I just wanted to say happy birthday. Anyway, I’m leaving now!” He darted out as quickly as he had entered, leaving the door swinging on its hinges.

Mira groaned, burying her face in her hands. “That boy has no sense of boundaries,” she muttered.

With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the task at hand: getting ready for the temple. She pulled on the dress her mother had chosen for the occasion—a simple yet elegant ocean green gown that hugged her figure modestly. The fabric was soft and flowed gracefully, but it still made her feel like a doll being dressed up for display.

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Light makeup had been set out on the table, another insistence from her mother to “look beautiful for her future husband.” Mira glared at the small mirror, begrudgingly applying the minimal makeup. “Husband,” she muttered bitterly. “I hate that word.”

“I look like I’m being prepped for an auction,” she muttered, staring at her reflection.

What was his name again? Will? Wiley? Something like that. Not that it mattered. She didn’t care enough to remember.

Her mother’s voice called from the main room. “Mira, are you ready? We need to leave soon!”

“Coming!” she replied, forcing herself to sound pleasant.

After finishing her preparations, Mira left her room and found her parents waiting in the main room. Her mother beamed with pride, her father wore his usual stoic expression, and Lucas was hopping around excitedly.

“Where’s Lior?” Mira asked, noticing her older brother’s absence.

“He’s working in town,” her father said, his tone as gruff as ever.

Mira envied Lior in that moment. At least he had an excuse to avoid this whole ordeal.

The walk to the temple was uneventful but suffocating. Her mother and father whispered words of encouragement—or warnings, depending on how one interpreted them.

“Now, Mira,” her mother began, her tone firm yet kind, “when you awaken your system, you must choose wisely. A good class is essential for a good future.”

“A proper class,” her father interjected, his voice low and commanding. “Nothing foolish or rebellious. You’re a young woman now, and it’s time to accept your role. Choose a housewife class—something practical and respectable.”

Mira bit her tongue, nodding just enough to placate them. Inside, she felt like screaming. A housewife class? Was that all they expected of her? All they believed she was capable of?

The temple loomed ahead, its grand structure casting a long shadow over the village square. The building was ancient, its stone walls etched with carvings depicting the Twelve Gods. The air inside was cool and carried the faint scent of incense.

A priest greeted them at the entrance, his robes flowing as he led Mira and her family through the sacred halls. Her parents and Lucas stopped at the main chamber, where other families waited, but the priest motioned for Mira to follow him alone.

Her parents and Lucas stayed behind, her mother offering her a reassuring smile. “Remember, Mira,” she called softly. “Choose wisely.”

Mira followed the priest down a long, narrow corridor. The walls were lined with torches, their flickering light casting shadows that seemed to dance and twist. The air grew cooler with each step, the silence pressing down on her like a weight.

“This way,” he said, his voice gentle yet authoritative.

Mira’s heart raced as she continues followed him down a corridor that seemed to stretch endlessly. Finally, they reached a door adorned with intricate carvings of the Twelve Gods. The priest opened it, revealing a circular room bathed in soft golden light.

Mira stepped inside, her breath catching at the sight. The room was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was perfectly circular, with twelve statues lining the walls, each one representing a deity. The craftsmanship was immaculate, each statue exuding a presence that felt almost alive.

In the center of the room stood an altar, its surface gleaming as though it were made of pure starlight. Symbols of the gods adorned its edges, and a faint hum seemed to emanate from it, filling the room with a sense of reverence and anticipation.

Mira hesitated, her eyes darting around the room. She felt small, insignificant, in the presence of such grandeur. But there was no turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped closer to the altar. Her footsteps echoed softly against the stone floor, the sound amplified in the stillness. As she reached out to touch the altar, a voice called her name.

“Mira.”

She froze, her hand hovering inches above the surface. The voice was clear, resonant, and unmistakably divine.

Her heart pounded as she looked around the room, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Who…?”