SIGILBORNE: The World Beyond

Journey

Everyone who underwent the Sigil Rite received a Sigil. It was a certainty that had remained unchanged throughout recorded history. Even those who practiced Aura could receive one, though many considered the Rite a waste of time when they had already chosen another path.

The Church did not create Sigils. It called upon them, allowing one of the five elements to answer a person who stood before the altar. Pyra, which governed fire. Aqua, which governed water and its flow. Terran, which governed earth. Aeris, which governed air. And Voltis, which governed lightning.

Every person who completed the Rite received one.

At least, that was what the world believed.

"None."

The priest's voice carried through the church.

For a moment, Eiran thought he had misunderstood.

He stood before the altar with his right hand resting against the ancient stone, staring at the priest as though the man had spoken in a language he could not understand. The candles continued to burn. The sacred symbols carved into the altar remained unchanged.

Nothing had happened.

"...Is that normal?" Eiran asked.

The priest did not answer immediately. His gaze moved from Eiran's hand to the altar, then back to the boy standing before him.

"No," he finally said.

The answer was so simple that Eiran almost wished the priest had offered something else.

Perhaps there had been a mistake. Perhaps he had placed his hand incorrectly. Perhaps the Rite required more time.

"Then... could you try again?"

The priest studied him for another moment before nodding. He instructed Eiran to keep his hand against the stone, then began the ancient chant once more.

Eiran lowered his eyes to the altar.

He had spent years reading about the five Sigils, learning their properties and imagining how each might shape his future. He had wondered whether Pyra would suit him, or whether he would prefer the versatility of Aqua. Terran could be useful for construction and travel, while Aeris offered possibilities he had only begun to understand. Voltis was rare, but even that had crossed his mind.

He had prepared himself for any of them.

He had never considered receiving nothing.

The priest's voice grew louder as the chant reached its final words. For a brief instant, Eiran thought he felt something beneath his palm. His fingers tightened against the stone.

Then the sensation vanished.

The priest fell silent.

Eiran looked up.

The man's expression had changed. He was no longer simply uncertain. He looked as though he had encountered something that should not exist.

"None," the priest repeated.

Eiran slowly lifted his hand from the altar.

"...No."

The word escaped him before he could stop it.

He looked at his palm, turning it over as though the answer might have been written there. There was no mark, no symbol, nothing to suggest that the Rite had touched him at all.

"Wait. That can't be right." He swallowed and glanced at the priest. "Everyone receives one, don't they? That's how the Rite works. You call the Sigil, and one answers."

The priest's expression tightened.

"That is correct."

"Then why..." Eiran stopped.

He wanted to ask why it had failed. He wanted the priest to explain what had gone wrong, to point out some mistake that could be corrected. But the questions crowded together in his mind, and none of them seemed to make sense.

"Could it be because I did something wrong? I followed your instructions. I didn't move my hand or interrupt the chant, so..." He paused, staring at the altar again. "I don't understand."

The priest had no answer.

That silence frightened Eiran more than the result itself.

Around them, the church had grown restless. The other participants had been waiting for their turn, and the murmurs spreading through the hall were becoming difficult to ignore.

"Did he really receive nothing?"

"That's impossible. Everyone gets a Sigil."

"Maybe the priest made a mistake."

"But he repeated the Rite."

Eiran heard every word.

He wished they would stop talking, though he knew he could not blame them for being confused. He was confused himself. He had spent sixteen years believing in something everyone else took for granted, and now the very thing he had expected to happen had refused to happen at all.

His gaze drifted toward the people standing near the front of the church.

Baron Cedric stood beside Lady Elara, both of them watching him with expressions he rarely saw on their faces. Baron Cedric's usual composure had given way to open bewilderment, while Lady Elara looked as though she wanted to approach her son but was uncertain whether doing so would make the situation worse.

Neither of them had expected this.

Eiran looked farther back and found Arthur among the waiting participants. His childhood friend stared at him with the same disbelief reflected in everyone's faces.

Arthur opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

Eiran looked away first.

He could not bear to keep searching their faces for an explanation none of them possessed.

The priest stepped away from the altar and addressed the gathering. His voice was firm, though Eiran noticed the uncertainty beneath it.

"The Rite will continue. The next participant may come forward."

The words brought the church back to life. People shifted in their places, and the next person in line began moving toward the altar.

Eiran remained still for another moment.

Was he supposed to leave? Should he ask the priest to contact someone who knew more about the Rite? Should he wait until someone discovered what had happened?

He had no idea.

Then he felt a hand settle on his shoulder.

Arthur stood beside him. There was no forced smile on his face, nor any attempt to pretend that everything was fine. He simply looked at Eiran, his expression carrying a concern he could not put into words.

Eiran glanced at him.

Arthur gave his shoulder a small squeeze.

Neither of them spoke.

For now, that was enough.

Eiran stepped away from the altar and walked toward the church doors. He could feel the stares following him, but he kept his eyes ahead. The sunlight outside was almost painfully bright after the dim interior, and for a moment he stood on the steps, unsure of where to go.

Arthur had to remain behind. His own turn had not yet come, and leaving before completing the Rite would accomplish nothing.

Eiran understood that. He did not ask Arthur to follow him.

After a final glance toward the church, he started home alone.

The journey through the familiar streets felt strangely long. People greeted him as they passed, unaware of what had happened, and Eiran returned their greetings out of habit. The town looked exactly as it had that morning. Shops were open, workers carried goods through the streets, and the distant sound of hammers came from the direction of Wycliffe Works.

Nothing in the world had changed.

Except, somehow, everything had.

By the time Eiran reached home, the confusion had settled into something heavier. He went straight to his room, removed his formal coat, and sat at his desk.

A collection of books rested on the shelves beside him. He had gathered them over the years, studying the five Sigils in preparation for the day he would finally receive one. He pulled several volumes down and spread them across the desk, opening each to the sections he knew best.

Pyra. Aqua. Terran. Aeris. Voltis.

He read the descriptions again, searching for anything that might explain his result. He checked the accounts of past Rites, the recorded properties of the elements, and the passages describing the Church's calling ceremony.

Nothing.

There was no record of anyone receiving nothing.

Eiran leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead. He wanted to throw the books aside, but that would not change the answer. He had always believed that knowledge was useful even when it failed to provide an immediate solution. For now, all he could do was accept that he did not understand what had happened.

He closed the book in front of him.

His plans had never depended entirely on receiving a particular Sigil. He had wanted one, of course. He had looked forward to discovering its properties and learning how far he could take it. But he had also wanted to travel, to see places beyond the barony and experience a world he had only encountered through books and other people's stories.

That desire had not disappeared.

Still, it was difficult to ignore the feeling that something had been taken from him before he had even been given the chance to begin.

A knock interrupted his thoughts.

Eiran looked toward the door. A servant informed him that Baron Cedric and Lady Elara had returned.

He found his parents in the sitting room. Lady Elara was seated near the window, while Baron Cedric stood beside the table with a document in his hand. Both turned toward Eiran as he entered.

"We spoke with the priest," Baron Cedric said. "He repeated what happened, but he couldn't explain it. He has written a report and sent it to the Church's central authority."

"Did he say what happens now?" Eiran asked.

"No. He doesn't know." Baron Cedric placed the document on the table. "He has never encountered anything like this, and neither have the people he consulted."

Eiran lowered his gaze.

"So even the Church has no answer."

"Not yet," Lady Elara said gently. "That doesn't mean there will never be one."

He appreciated her attempt to reassure him, but he could not bring himself to agree. The priest had repeated the Rite, and the result had remained the same. Until someone could explain why, he had little reason to expect anything different.

After a quiet moment, Baron Cedric asked, "What do you intend to do?"

Eiran looked up. "I'm still going to travel."

Lady Elara studied him carefully. "Are you certain? You don't have to decide today."

"I know. But staying here won't give me an answer, either. I can continue reading, and I'll keep looking for an explanation. I just don't want to abandon my plans because of something I don't understand."

Baron Cedric considered his son's words before nodding.

"Then prepare properly. Don't let your curiosity convince you that every unfamiliar road is worth taking. Keep enough money for an emergency, and be careful about the people you trust."

"I will."

"And write to us," Lady Elara added. "Even if it's only a short letter telling us where you are."

Eiran managed a small smile. "I promise."

The conversation did not erase the uncertainty hanging over the family, but it gave him something solid to hold on to. His parents were worried, naturally, yet neither tried to force him to abandon the journey. They understood that he needed to find his own way forward, even if the path had become less certain than any of them had expected.

That evening, Eiran returned to his room and began preparing his supplies. He packed practical clothing, a few books, writing materials, and the other necessities he expected to need on the road. He checked his savings twice before placing the coins into separate pouches.

Five gold coins, forty-three silver coins, and eighteen copper coins.

It was not a fortune, but it was enough to begin. He knew how quickly money could disappear when traveling, so he made a mental note to keep his spending under control.

By the time he finished, the sky beyond his window had darkened. Eiran stood for a while beside his packed belongings, looking around the room he had known for most of his life.

He had imagined leaving under very different circumstances.

Still, tomorrow he would leave.

The following morning, Eiran stepped outside with his travel bag slung over one shoulder. He had barely reached the front path when he spotted Arthur waiting nearby.

Arthur's brown hair was slightly untidy, and he wore a travel pack similar to Eiran's. The moment he noticed Eiran, he straightened and lifted one hand in greeting.

"Thought you'd leave without me?" Arthur asked.

Eiran raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd be busy celebrating your own Rite."

"I did that already."

Eiran paused. "what did you received?"

"Terran." Arthur turned his palm upward, revealing the mark that had appeared after he completed the Rite. "The priest called me forward sometime after you left. Everything went normally for me."

Eiran examined the mark for a moment before looking back at his friend.

"I'm glad," he said, and meant it.

Arthur's expression softened. "I wish yours had gone differently."

"So do I."

For a moment, neither spoke. The memory of the previous day lingered between them, but Arthur did not press him for answers he could not give. Instead, he adjusted the strap of his bag and looked toward the road.

"Come on. If we're going to travel, we should actually get moving."

Eiran smiled faintly. "You make it sound as though I'm the one holding us up."

"You were staring at the road."

"I was checking the weather."

"Of course you were."

Their conversation drifted into familiar teasing as they set off together. The road stretched beyond the barony, leading toward places neither had visited and experiences neither could predict. Eiran still had no explanation for the Rite, but he refused to let that single unanswered question become the boundary of his world.

They walked on, two friends beginning a journey neither could fully understand.

From the estate entrance, Baron Cedric watched them grow smaller along the road. Gareth stood beside him, his hands resting loosely at his sides.

Gareth was the Wycliffe household's butler, but his relationship with Baron Cedric had begun long before either man held his current position. They had grown up together, back when the Wycliffes were still a family of merchants and Cedric's father had not yet received the king's favor. Gareth had been Cedric's friend then, and he remained so now.

When Cedric was thirteen, his family had been elevated to nobility. The king had bestowed the Wycliffe name upon his grandfather and granted the family the land that became their barony. The title changed the family's standing, but it had never turned Gareth into a stranger to Cedric.

Now their sons were walking down the same road they had once dreamed of taking.

"They've grown up quickly," Gareth said.

Cedric gave a quiet laugh. "Too quickly. I still remember when Arthur followed you around everywhere, insisting he could do everything you could."

"He still thinks he can."

"That sounds familiar."

Gareth glanced at his old friend. "You weren't much better at his age."

"I was considerably more sensible."

"You once tried to convince me we could cross half the kingdom with a handful of coins and no proper supplies."

Cedric chuckled. "And you agreed with me."

"Because I was young enough to think you knew what you were doing."

Their laughter faded as they watched the boys disappear farther along the road.

For a while, neither man spoke. There was a time when they had imagined traveling together, seeing the world beyond the lands they knew. Then responsibility had arrived, followed by work, family, and the demands of the lives they had chosen.

They had stayed behind, and the years had passed.

Now their sons had the opportunity to do what they never had.

"Do you think they'll be all right?" Gareth asked.

Cedric kept his eyes on the distant road. "They'll make mistakes. They'll run into trouble. And there will be times when we wish we could be there to help them."

"That's reassuring."

"I'm not finished." Cedric smiled slightly. "They're also smart enough to learn from those mistakes, and stubborn enough to keep going. We can't make every decision for them, Gareth. We can only trust them to find their way."

Gareth nodded, his gaze following the road until the two figures vanished beyond the bend.

"Then let's hope they see more of the world than we ever did."

Cedric stood beside his friend in silence.

Far down the road, Eiran and Arthur continued toward the unknown, unaware of the conversation left behind them and the questions waiting beyond the horizon.