HEAVEN'S FORSAKEN SON

Awakening Ceremony

The yard of the Darkveil Clan glowed with lantern light.

The Awakening Ceremony came only once every decade. It was the day the clan’s youths revealed their fates, tested their roots, and secured their place in the hierarchy of the clan.

Bright banners snapped in the wind. Elders with sharp eyes stood in a half-circle with expectations. The stone altar in the center vibrated faintly with ancient qi. The stone was ready to measure meridians.

All the children lined up in ceremonial attire. They looked nervous, eager and trembling with dreams of glory.

Arin Darkveil stood among them. His small fists clenched inside his sleeves.

His hands were pale, cold and trembling. He rubbed his thumb over a hidden scrap of cloth stitched with a broken-spoke symbol which was his mother’s last gift.

The cloth gave him strength. But not enough to silence the murmurs around him.

“There’s the cripple.”

“Why let him take the test?”

“He’ll shame us all over again.”

Arin kept his head bowed. His ears burned with every word.

The first child stepped onto the altar. A shimmer of green qi rose around her body. The elders nodded approvingly.

Another boy followed. Sparks of lightning danced across his arms. The crowd applauded.

Excitement built with each awakening. The clan roared louder and prouder.

And then…. Kael Darkveil walked forward.

He was tall for his age and already broad-shouldered. Kael wore arrogance like a cloth. His red robe shimmered with threads of gold, marking him as the favored son of the Second Elder.

He placed his palm on the altar. For a moment, the yard fell silent.

Then fire erupted.

Flames burst into the sky, coiling upward like dragons, roaring so hot they scorched the very air. The stone beneath his hand glowed red. A phantom flame lotus unfolded behind him, burning very bright.

Gasps echoed through the crowd.

“Fire spiritual roots!”

“Such purity! Such strength!”

“A genius is born!”

Kael turned his head slightly, smirking and basking in their awe. His gaze slid deliberately toward Arin.

Arin’s stomach twisted.

The cheers felt like thunder pressing him into the dirt.

“Next,” an elder barked.

Arin’s legs felt heavy as he stepped forward.

Every eye turned to him already laughing at him and hungry for his failure.

He reached the altar. His palms were sweaty. He pressed his hand against the cold stone.

For a moment, he hoped and he prayed.

Maybe this time… maybe the heavens would grant him mercy.

He focused, forcing every ounce of will through his crippled meridians.

The stone pulsed faintly. And then, there was actually nothing.

The silence lasted only a second before the laughter began.

The laughter started like a wave, crashing over him.

“Pathetic!”

“Still crippled!”

“Can’t even awaken a flicker!”

Arin’s ears rang. His chest hollowed. His hands trembled against the stone.

The elders exchanged cold looks. One shook his head in disgust.

Another sighed. “A disgrace to the bloodline.”

Arin withdrew his hand. His face was pale as ash.

Kael stepped close. His voice was low enough for the crowd to hear. 

“You thought the altar would recognize trash?” He sneered. “You’ll never be anything, Arin. You’re just a shadow dragging the Darkveil name into filth.”

Laughter spread among them. Children pointed and adults smirked.

Arin stood frozen. His fists clenched so hard his nails cut his palms. Blood welled but his hand was hidden beneath his sleeves.

He wanted to scream. He wanted to strike.

But his crippled body betrayed him.

All he could do was bow his head and swallow the shame.

Inside, though, something else stirred. “I will change this fate, no matter what it takes me.”

The ceremony ended in celebration for Kael and humiliation for Arin.

The clan feasted. Lanterns glowed brighter and songs rose into the night.

But none of it reached Arin.

He sat alone by the edge of the yard. His knees drawn up, staring at the altar where his shame had been announced for everyone.

The embroidered cloth pressed against his heart. His mother’s words echoed faintly, “You are not a curse. You are my son.”

But even those words felt far away.

Because every face he saw reflected the same truth that he was only a curse.

The yard emptied. The feast waned.

Moonlight spilled across the Darkveil compound, Arin slipped away to the training yard.

The wooden dummies stood in silence, scarred from the fists of countless clan youths. Arin touched one with trembling fingers.

He imagined himself striking it, breaking it and proving them all wrong.

But his body was weak. His meridians are broken. His punches were nothing but hollow slaps.

Frustration swallowed him. He hit the dummy again and again until his knuckles split and blood smeared the wood.

“Why… why am I so weak?” he whispered to the empty night.

A voice cut through the silence. “Still pretending you belong here?” Arin froze.

Kael stepped out of the dark, flanked by two older boys. Their smirks gleamed under the moonlight.

Kael’s eyes burned with cruel delight. His red robe swayed as he crossed the yard.

“You embarrassed me today,” Kael said coldly. “Your failure makes our bloodline look like rot. I won’t allow it.”

Arin backed away with his heart pounding. His fists clenched, though his body shook.

“Go back,” he said quietly. “I don’t want trouble.”

Kael’s laugh was sharp. “You are trouble. You should have died with mother. Instead, you keep clinging on like a parasite.”

The words stabbed deep, twisting in wounds that never healed.

Arin’s breath caught. His eyes stung.

The other boys spread out, circling him and cutting off all escape routes. 

Kael’s fist clenched. Flames flickered faintly around his knuckles.

Arin’s pulse roared in his ears. His body trembled.