Chương 1: No God’s Favorite

—Gaelora, Solwane 1508 A. G —"Get up." Father had said, holding out Big Brother Noe's wooden sword. His words had been simple yet absolute.

"A Kalonis does not stay down. No matter what." Though the words hadn't been meant for Anadis, they had stayed with him for eight years. That was also how long he had been preparing for this day, ever since he was five and had first watched Father and his big brother, Noe, training in the yard.

That same day, Noe had explained it all to Anadis—standing before the fresco of Amatheris, Goddess of Eternal Flames, back at their villa—and told him that their father was one of the chosen few: a Blessen, one of the heralds chosen by the Twelve Gods, tasked with protecting the world and continuing the eternal war against the Grulls. Noe had also explained why Father trained him so hard: so that he could be ready to become a Blessen himself. In that moment, Anadis understood what it truly meant to be one.

To be strong. To be righteous. After all, that was what Father was, always had been. That happened eight years ago. Since then, that was all Anadis had strived to be. To be a Blessen. To be like Father. So he had spent those eight years reading everything he could find about the gods and Blessings. Eight years of prayers that he wasn't entirely sure ever reached any of the gods. Eight years of endless days of training with Father and his brothers. I want that. I want to be a Blessen. Whatever it takes, I'll do it.

Now thirteen years old, he stood outside the Cathedral of Aura Cay with his family, about to find out whether any of it had mattered. It has to have mattered.

"Madam, your family insignia, please," said the mustachioed guard at the cathedral entrance. Mother nodded. Her long, thick raven curls spilled over her shoulders as she bent down to open her purse. She pulled out a rectangular silver plaque, no bigger than her palm, and handed it to him. The guard inspected the insignia for only a moment.

"Silver-class Blessen family. Second floor," he said.

"Don't mistake it for the first floor—that's Bronze—or the third, which is for Gold. No Diamonds are attending today, so no one to offend, thankfully." He offered a small smile.

"Either way, enjoy the ceremony." He stepped aside. As the whole family entered the Cathedral, the scent of melted altar candles and old incense filled Anadis's nose. Rainbow light spilled through the mosaic windows, painting the stone floor in shifting, vibrant colors as the Kalonis family strode inside. Anadis walked between his parents, his heart hammering harder than it had at any other moment in his life.

On his left, his twin Albus stared up at the towering frescoes with quiet wonder, wisps of white hair falling over his blue eyes. On his right, his sister Aelia clutched the hem of her new tunic, her grey eyes squeezed shut, and her cheeks flushed pink from the covetous stares she always attracted. A man in a white toga trimmed with red patterns stopped them.

"Excuse me, I'm one of the deacons. I'll be assisting with the kids today. May I know which of your children will be tested before the gods today?" he asked, looking at Father and Mother. This time, it was Father who answered.

"It'd be these two boys," he said, his blond hair combed in a neat ponytail. He rested both hands on Anadis's and Albus's shoulders, then nodded toward Aelia.

"And this young lady right here."

"Ah, twins!" the deacon said eagerly.

"Seeing twins is like finding a matched pair of pearls—so rare and splendid."

"Indeed, they're my little blessings," Mother said, cupping both their cheeks.

"Alright… Silver class," the man uttered, inspecting the family insignia card.

"A Blessen in the family, what a… blessing—no pun intended." He wiggled his eyebrows and barked out an awkward laugh at his own joke. The Kalonises exchanged awkward glances, unsure how to react. All except for big sister Nora. She loved the terrible pun and burst into boisterous laughter, fully alone in her enthusiasm.

"Good one, Deacon!" she cried, still chortling.

"Ah, I see you have good taste, young lady," the deacon said.

"Well then, you three, please follow me."

"Remember," Mother whispered, wagging a finger in front of their faces, "listen and be respectful. The gods decide, not us." Her voice trembled slightly. This wasn't the first time he had seen his mother with such an uneasy expression, but it was the first time he was on the receiving end of it. Anadis nodded, as did Aelia and Albus.

"Don't worry, Mom. You're acting more nervous than we are right now," he said, trying to sound confident, but his palms were slick with sweat.

"That's because I am." Mother's fretted grey eyes looked down at him as her soft hands braced his shoulders.

"I know you want to be a Blessen like your father, but you still don't understand how dangerous it is." Her voice dropped to a near mutter.

"The best thing that could happen is that none of you awaken a Divine Core."

"We understand, Mother," Aelia said in her usual calm voice.

"But we'll be fine." She hugged Mother tightly, and Anadis and Albus joined in, wrapping their arms around both of them.

"Marcia, let them breathe," Father said from behind them.

"Hadrian!" Grandma Anna slapped Father's back in that familiar scolding tone she always used on her son.

"She's a worried mother. Let her be." Father furrowed his brows in awkward silence and rubbed the back of his head. Even a Blessen couldn't escape the might of a mother. After that, they followed the deacon down a short corridor, the red carpet beneath their feet illuminated by sconces that burned on the walls with bright blue flames. Stepping out of the corridor, they found themselves on the main ground floor, where more than a hundred kids sat in rows wearing formal tunics.

"Look at all the frescoes," Aelia breathed beside him.

"I wish I could paint every single one."

"Brother," Albus called, tugging at Anadis's tunic and pointing at a giant figure hammering at an anvil in the sky, all bronze muscle and barely there modesty.

"Do you know which god that is?"

"Hepharos, God of Forging," Anadis said.

"He is the God said to have forged every weapon the other gods carried into battle fifteen hundred years ago. Every blade, every shield, every instrument of war that the gods used to force most of the Grulls away from our continent was made with his hands." Albus's eyes went wide.

"What about that one?"

"Zairos the Sky Father, God of Thunder," he said solemnly.

"People say that every time it thunders, he is releasing some of his power to us." Then his gaze drifted upward to the third. Amatheris, Goddess of Eternal Flames, was painted above the altar where the light crowned her commanding figure. Wings of fire spread behind her, her sword outstretched like a command rather than a threat. She looked like someone who had never once known defeat. He'd been staring at her face on the wall of his family's villa since he was five years old.

She was the first god he had ever known by name, the one he had always wished would choose to bless him. The deacon noticed him staring.

"You know your stuff, kid."

"My dad is a Blessen, so I've been preparing for years," Anadis replied.

"Hoping to increase my chances even more."

"That may be," the deacon said, "but even for children of Blessens, the probabilities only increase slightly."

"I… know," he muttered with a sigh. That was the truth, his older brother Noe had never awakened one after all, but this was his turn. He would be the one to stand before the gods and be judged. He was sure they wouldn't forget him.

"Now then, we're here. Please scoot over to that row with the rest of the kids." They obeyed and squeezed tightly past knees and pew ends. At last, at the end of the pew, there was just enough space for the three of them, where one kid sat in the corner away from the rest as if keeping her distance on purpose.

"You shouldn't sit next to her." Looking to his side, he found a bratty girl with blonde ponytails sitting and staring at him like she was owed attention.

"And… why not?" he asked, frowning.

"She's a commoner," the girl said, her face twisting like she'd smelled manure.

"I saw her family insignia. It was bronze. We're silver. Mother says we shouldn't be near bronzies." Anadis looked at the so-called 'commoner girl.' She wore red elbow-length gloves that glimmered beautifully against her deep bronze skin. A silk headscarf draped over her head, letting only a few errant strands of her thick brown hair slip free. Her almond-shaped eyes were a deep, pure red, like the most beautiful ruby, one that could hypnotize him if he stared too long. He swallowed.

He didn't know why, but he suddenly felt nervous. Shaking himself, he turned back to the ponytailed menace and said, "Your mother is right. You shouldn't get near her." The blonde girl smiled smugly and nodded.

"Because if you do, you might infect her with your ugliness." The girl gasped.

"How dare you?! Wait till I tell my father—""Go cry to your father. See if I care." He turned his back on her and sat beside the commoner girl.

"Anadis, don't be tactless," Aelia said, though he noticed her slight grin. The blonde ponytail girl kept badmouthing him, but now Albus was sitting between them, and unfortunately, he took most of her insults until the deacon finally ordered her to behave. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. With a sigh, Anadis turned to the girl who sat alone.

"You shouldn't let her badmouth you like that. Doesn't matter if her family is one tier above yours." Silence… She completely ignored him, as if he were just talking to a wall. A single mocking "pfft" from the blonde brat. Anadis could feel a vein bulge slightly on his forehead. Maybe she's just shy. I should probably introduce myself first.

"I'm Anadis, by the way," he said, extending his open hand.

"What's your name?" Once again—nothing. Instead, she turned her head away, shutting him out altogether. A sharp, humorless "Ha!" pierced his ear from the blonde girl.

"That's what you get for trying to take her side." What's wrong with this girl? After I defend her, this is how I'm treated? His mood soured in an instant. Why were girls so impossible to understand? If someone had defended him, he'd be delighted to thank them properly, but he knew he shouldn't help others expecting their gratitude. Still… some sort of acknowledgment wouldn't hurt.

Right when he was about to say a few regrettable words, maybe to the ponytail girl, maybe to the silent beauty, someone hushed from another row.

"Shh, it's starting." A harmonious melody filled the cathedral, snatching his gaze forward to the altar where a choir of adults sang, their voices humming in his ears. In the center stood a man wearing a red and golden toga with overly exaggerated, gleaming patterns and jewelry stacked in abundance. Anadis wondered how he could even lift his arm with all that weight. The laurel on his head glittered so brightly that it looked like it could blind someone if they stared at it from the wrong angle.

"Welcome," the man said.

"Children standing before the gods today, and families watching from above." He waved a jeweled arm.

"I'm the Pastor of the Aura Cay Cathedral, and we're gathered here for the Divine Core Awakening Ceremony. As in all cathedrals across the continent of Igindor, these doors are open to all Fourbloods. That is the gods' will, and ours." From beside him, barely audible: a quiet curse. Anadis glanced at the commoner girl. Did she just…?

"Now, a bit of history," the pastor said.

"Thirteen gods descended upon a Grull-filled Continent of Igindor fifteen hundred years ago during the Twin Eclipse week and saved us from the Dark Ages, banishing most of the Grulls to the Shrouded Continent." The pastor started clapping, encouraging the crowd to follow along.

"But that victory came at a cost." The Pastor's voice dropped, and the clapping died with it.

"Thirteen gods descended upon Igindor. Only twelve returned to Axis Mundi." Bowing his head, he declared, "The Thirteenth Goddess, Helphrena, gave her life so the others could drive the Grulls from our continent. She is the reason why we stand here today." The cathedral went silent. Then, quietly, the Pastor raised his head.

"We do not speak her name lightly. We do not forget what was sacrificed." A quick pause.

"And now, let's get on with the ceremony. This should be simple enough." The pastor clasped his hands together.

"Every year, the day after the Twin Eclipse week, all kids from Igindor—regardless of race—from the ages of thirteen to fifteen must be judged by the gods. If a Divine Core awakens, it means at least one god has deemed you worthy of carrying their Blessing. If it doesn't…" He let the silence finish the sentence for him.

"Well, only a few will be chosen." He smiled warmly despite the weight of his own words.

"Kids, starting with the Gold-class, your names will be called, you'll step forward, be recognized by the gods, and hopefully, you'll be among the lucky few." The choir sang its melody as the names were called one by one. All of the noble kids stepped out with tears welling in their eyes after having realized they weren't going to have a Blessing.

"Now, Silver-class," the pastor looked at a scroll and called.

"Aelia Kalonis, step forward."

"Good luck, sis," Anadis whispered. She gave a quivering smile. She's nervous. Anadis watched his sister walk forward, her back straight, her hands folded in front of her, her face carrying that expression she always wore, the one that made the rest of the world look mildly irrelevant. When she stepped onto the podium, something in the room shifted. The kind of silence of people being awestruck by something they wouldn't see every day. Heads turned, and whispers began to float around.

"…she's an angel," someone murmured from the row in front of him.

"Look how luxuriously long her blonde hair is. It's like silk." It was always the same—whenever Aelia walked into a room, people couldn't help but stare at her. No matter how many times it happened, he still didn't get it. Sure, she was pretty with her long straight blonde hair and her grey eyes—just like Anadis's own eyes, the ones they inherited from Mother—yet… to him, she was just Aelia, a normal girl. If only they knew just how clumsy she is—besides, there are plenty of girls prettier than her, like…

He glanced to the side, toward the commoner girl, and something stirred in him. Suddenly, the crowd gasped. Anadis turned toward the podium, where a bright yellow light met his gaze.

"Astounding!" the pastor exclaimed, reverence creeping into his voice.

"A yellow Divine Core. It has been decades—no, I don't believe one has graced this hall in my thirty years of pastoring." The audience followed the pastor's amazement as they erupted into a mix of loud, disbelieving gasps. Then the gasps turned into murmurs as people tried to figure out just what happened. What the…? Aelia's going to become a Blessen? But I thought… Aelia was fourteen, which meant this was her second time being checked for a Divine Core.

Her first attempt had been unsuccessful, and Anadis knew the chances diminished drastically on the second try, and even more so on the third. Still, there it was—undeniable proof that Aelia had officially become the first of the Kalonis siblings to awaken a Divine Core. And she had done it in yellow. His clumsy, art-obsessed sister had awakened what nobles dreamed of their entire lives. Pride swelled in his chest. The second-highest core possible… unbelievable.

A yellow divine core formed when at least half the gods competed to carry her Blessing. Only figures like the Imperator and some of the Citadel's Archons had awakened one—it was just that rare. Only a white core ranked higher, and it was regarded as little more than a myth. There were probably no living souls with one currently, nor had anyone seen one within living memory. Anadis looked over his shoulder toward the second floor, past the sea of children, and saw his family.

They were all wearing wide, proud smiles, especially Father. One of the deacons guided Aelia to another room, then with a wave of his hand, quieted the crowd.

"That was truly a blessing to see. In my many years as a pastor in Aura Cay, this is the first time I've seen a child with a yellow core." The pastor looked at his scroll.

"But we must move on. Let's see… Oh, another Kalonis. Albus Kalonis, please step up." He paused.

"And please don't be disappointed if you don't awaken a core. Your sister was the exception, not the rule." As Albus walked up to the podium, the crowd began to murmur again.

"Would he have a yellow core too?" one person whispered.

"No way, impossible. Maybe a grey or red at best."

"More than likely nothing at all," another added. Then— A blinding flash of white-hot brilliance consumed the entire cathedral, forcing Anadis to shut his eyes. When the light dimmed, he saw that the pastor had dropped to the floor.

"Y-you… Th-this is impossible!" he stuttered, then scrambled upright, pointing at Albus with a shaking finger.

"Get me another Shard Diviner," he said, his voice cracking on the last word.

"Now!" The room erupted into chaos as people wondered what had just happened.

"That… was white right…" Someone said.

"What does white mean again?" another wondered. A deacon stepped forward, raising his hands.

"White means all twelve gods have turned their gaze upon him simultaneously," he said, his voice unsteady.

"Every god. At once. It has not been recorded since the age of the Concordant Scriptures." The silence that followed was different from Aelia's. Anadis couldn't move, his mind unresponsive. His twin, the same boy he'd trained with all this time, had a white Divine core. There hadn't been any records of a white Divine Core in over a millennium. The only reason people even knew it existed was because of the Concordant Scriptures—the sacred texts containing the gods' commands that all mortals must follow.

A deacon rushed onto the stage with another device, and the result remained; the light was white.

"People, we have witnessed history," the pastor said in a reverent tone, placing a trembling hand on Albus's white head. Albus stood frozen on the podium, then glanced at Anadis. His brows tugged upward in a silent, awkward question: What just happened? Clearly, this was already far more attention than he could handle.

"This boy will bring a new era upon Igindor," the pastor declared, his voice ringing with conviction.

"He has the talent to become a Blessen who could even stand beside the gods—not as an equal, but by their side nonetheless." That's a bold statement.

"Whoo! That's my boy!" shouted a burly man from the second floor, his father, laughing, fist thrust into the air. The audience burst into laughter at his display. Anadis shrugged into himself, pulling his tunic to cover his face from the second-hand embarrassment. The laughter prevailed as people conversed on just what they had witnessed. It took about ten minutes for the pastor and the deacons to realize they still had a bunch of other kids to go through, and about ten more minutes to quiet the attendees.

"Alright, now that we've calmed down, let's continue." The pastor looked at his scroll again and said, "You won't believe this, but we have yet another Kalonis. Step up, Anadis Kalonis, give us another show." Gods… what a way to put pressure on me. He got up from his seat and walked toward the stage. He could hear the whispers and murmurs from the other kids, their expectations already built from receiving once-in-a-lifetime results from two Kalonis. They were eager to see what the third would do.

What the heck, man, Anadis thought. Why did I have to go last? As he stepped onto the podium, he saw the Coreshard diviner, a circular device that appeared to be made of gold. At its core sat a purple shard, and around it a rotating wheel with five glass-covered chambers, each glowing a different color.

"Alright, give me your hand," the pastor said, and Anadis winced as the man pricked one of his fingers with a needle. The pastor guided his arm over the diviner, and blood dripped onto it. Suddenly Anadis found it hard to breathe, hard to look up, and his back was drenched in sweat. He wasn't stupid; he'd been studying for this moment for years. He knew the odds were already against him; only one percent of one percent ever got a Divine core.

He knew that two extraordinary results back-to-back were statistically absurd. Some part of him already suspected what was coming. So the question was: Should he hope anyway? Looking up toward the second floor, he saw his mother with her hands clasped tightly and her eyes shut in fervent prayer. Was she praying he would receive a Divine Core… or the opposite? And Father, would Anadis get to see him smile with the same pride he had shown for Aelia and Albus? He didn't know. But he decided. I will believe.

Because that was who he was. Because he had prepared himself for this day over the last eight years. I know I won't get white or yellow, but please let me have a Divine Core! Any Divine Core… A light shone… and he smiled, as did the audience, but then the color revealed itself, and the atmosphere shifted to a somber, heavy silence.

"Black," the pastor said. Black… Anadis couldn't believe his eyes. His core was black, which meant—"Doesn't that mean no god wants him?" a kid with buck teeth shouted. The cathedral filled instantly with low murmurs and frantic questions. There was a particular cruelty to the crowd now—they had just witnessed two once-in-a-lifetime miracles, and they were eager to redirect their own inadequacy onto the next child who clearly hadn't matched the previous two.

The chatter grew so loud that the pastor had to step forward.

"Silence!" he bellowed. The audience fell quiet at once.

"Let me dispel your ignorance," he chided, his voice steady and commanding.

"Having a Black Divine Core does not mean the gods have rejected him. It simply means they are uncertain. They wish to see him proving his worth in the trial before bestowing a Blessing upon him." Nobody looked convinced.

"So it means he has no talent," another kid said with a nasty, smug look on his face. Some of the kids next to him chuckled, and one by one, more joined in the mocking laughter. But Anadis knew what it meant. A grey, red, or any other colored core meant that if he survived the trial, the gods would reward him. A black core meant he could endure everything they threw at him and still walk out with nothing. Anadis looked up to see where his family was sitting.

His mother had her face buried in his father's chest, and the latter was looking directly at him, not proudly like he did with Aelia or Albus. He was just… looking. Is he… disappointed? Anadis couldn't read him, and now he wished he hadn't looked.

"I'm sorry, kid," the pastor whispered, placing a hand on Anadis's back, then he gestured to one of the deacons with a snap of his fingers.

"Come on," a deacon said quietly at Anadis's elbow from below.

"Follow me." As Anadis walked down the aisle, it felt far longer than it had on the way up, weighed down by the murmurs.

"Imagine having the worst type of core… when your siblings are basically geniuses."

"I guess every family has a black sheep." A low scoff from somewhere to his left.

"I'd rather stay normal than throw my life away. A black divine core is basically a death sentence…" His hands clenched. They were wrong. They had to be wrong. At least I have a chance to become a Blessen. He thought bitterly. Most of you will never be one. I will become a Blessen! He told himself that all the way down the aisle, but for the first time in his thirteen years of life, he was unsure he believed it at all.