Chapter Seven: The Will to Try

  Aunt Mira believed that this was something Adrian needed to decide for himself. No reassurance she gave would truly matter if his heart was not aligned with the choice. The path forward had to be walked by his own will.

  The problem was—he didn't know what that will was.

  At first, his goal had been simple. He wanted to awaken. He wanted to prove the false sayers wrong, to show them that he was not someone to be pitied or looked down upon. Much like Crusader Elliott, Adrian wanted to overturn the cursed fate of being a forsaken half-blood and earn recognition through strength and achievement.

  Now, that future seemed to have crumbled before it even began.

  Or maybe… it hadn't.

  "I want to take the test tomorrow, Aunt Mira."

  Her expression tightened almost instantly. "Adrian—"

  "I know," he said quickly, cutting her off before she could finish. "I know there's a chance I might not awaken. I know that. But just hear me out before you decide anything."

  She let out a slow sigh. He wasn't acting impulsively—he was weighing his chances, and that alone worried her.

  "Look at Crusader Elliott," Adrian continued. "He's a half-blood just like me, and—"

  "Have you seen Crusader Elliott's eyes?" she interrupted.

  He paused, then nodded. "Yes. He has dark yellowish pupils. Just like mine… or at least similar."

  "Exactly," Aunt Mira said calmly. "That shade of yellow isn't random. The brightness or darkness of a hybrid's pupils is determined by which side they lean toward. The darker the yellow, the stronger the human side. The brighter it is, the more dominant the opposing bloodline becomes."

  Understanding dawned on him slowly, painfully. His hand lifted unconsciously toward his face. "So… my eyes."

  "You are more Demi-kin than you are human," Aunt Mira finished for him.

  The words landed with quiet finality.

  Adrian didn't know what he was supposed to feel. Anger? Disappointment? Resignation? All of it churned together in a confusing knot inside his chest. But one thing stood firm despite the storm.

  "Even so," he said at last, his voice steady, "I still want to participate in the awakening ceremony."

  Aunt Mira studied him closely. "Is that truly what you wish?"

  If it were up to her, she would rather he didn't. The ceremony could bring hope—but it could also bring devastation.

  "No," Adrian replied honestly. "It's not what I wish for."

  She blinked.

  "But it's what I want to do," he continued. "Giving up without trying… that's not how you raised me. That's not how you taught me to live, Aunt Mira."

  For a brief moment, she was speechless. Her eyes widened, surprise breaking through her composed demeanor.

  Then she laughed.

  A warm, genuine laugh spilled from her lips as she placed a hand on his head and began ruffling his short dark hair. "I suppose I didn't, did I?"

  He scowled and swatted at her arm, stepping back. "Hey! You can't just do that whenever you want. I'm not a child anymore, you know."

  She stared at him for a second.

  Then, without warning, she lunged forward and pulled him into a tight embrace. "Say that again."

  Before he could react, she locked him in place and resumed ruffling his hair with even more enthusiasm.

  "Aunt Mira!" Adrian protested, laughter slipping through his resistance as he struggled. "Stop it!"

  His efforts were futile. Against her strength and determination, he stood no chance.

  He was only saved when a familiar voice called out from nearby.

  "Adrian."

  Aunt Mira paused and glanced up. Carrera stood a short distance away, watching them with an unreadable expression.

  Aunt Mira released him and gave him a gentle push forward. "Go to her."

  Adrian hesitated.

  Shame washed over him as he remembered how he had treated Carrera earlier. She had only told him the truth because she cared—because she didn't want to hide anything from him. And how had he repaid that honesty?

  By yelling at her.

  By calling her a liar.

  The more he thought about it, the worse he felt.

  "Car," he started awkwardly. "I didn't mean to—"

  She didn't let him finish.

  Carrera suddenly sprinted forward and threw herself into him, wrapping her arms around his torso. Her head rested against his chest, her lips close to his left ear as she whispered, "You're forgiven."

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  Adrian froze. "Huh?"

  From behind them, Aunt Mira cleared her throat loudly. "Ahem. Ahem. I believe this is my cue to leave."

  Without another word, she turned and walked away, leaving the two of them alone.

  Adrian looked down at Carrera, still stunned. "You didn't even listen to what I was about to say."

  She hugged him tighter. "I did. And I'm telling you I forgive you. As long as you promise never to yell at me again. Ever."

  She leaned back just enough to look him directly in the eyes, placing deliberate emphasis on the word ever.

  Adrian raised a hand solemnly. "Never again. I promise."

  Carrera grinned, clearly satisfied. "Good. Then you're forgiven."

  He should have known. Carrera was never the type to drag things out unnecessarily—especially when it came to conflict between the two of them. Just as Adrian hated being at odds with her, she felt the same.

  Their truce was mutual and immediate.

  "Okay," Adrian said after a moment. "Now that I'm forgiven… get off me, will you?"

  "Never!" she declared, laughing as she wrapped her legs around his waist and held on stubbornly.

  Adrian groaned, but didn't try too hard to shake her off.

  Tomorrow still loomed in his mind. The ceremony. The possibility of failure. The fear of confirmation that he truly didn't belong.

  Yet with Carrera clinging to him, laughing without a care, those worries softened. They didn't disappear—but they retreated, pushed into a corner of his heart.

  With her, happiness came easily. Naturally. Effortlessly.

  They spent some time playing around before Adrian eventually brought up returning to his sword practice. Carrera agreed, choosing instead to sit nearby and talk while she watched him train.

  As he practiced, Adrian offered to teach her how to wield a sword. He reasoned that knowing how to defend herself could only be beneficial.

  Carrera declined immediately. Fighting, she insisted, wasn't her thing. It was his.

  Curious, Adrian asked, "Really? Then what is your thing?"

  He struck the tree again, this time with controlled precision, the flat of the blade landing cleanly against the bark.

  Carrera tilted her head back, eyes rolling thoughtfully before she answered. "If I awaken… I want to join the Crusaders as a healer."

  Her words startled him enough that his next swing went slightly off-mark.

  He stopped and turned to look at her. "I didn't take you for the healer type."

  Carrera simply smiled.

  Chapter Eight: The Eve of Awakening

  After the awakening ceremony, those who succeeded in forming a tangible connection to their soul core were given a title—Bearers. They were individuals capable of sensing, channeling, and wielding the latent energy that tied all living beings to the land itself.

  There were several ways a Bearer could manifest that connection.

  One such way was the Healer Pathway.

  Healers were Bearers who devoted themselves to the study and practice of restoration. They possessed the knowledge and aptitude to mend wounds, cure sickness, and stabilize the damaged soul and body alike. While all Bearers shared an astral link to the land, Healers specialized in nurturing that connection toward preservation rather than destruction.

  They were rare. And because of that, invaluable.

  "It's just something I want to do," Carrera admitted softly.

  Adrian glanced at her, sword resting against the tree beside him. "Carrera… the healer?" He tilted his head, trying to imagine it. After a moment, he shook it. "Nope. I don't see it."

  "Oh yeah?" she shot back immediately, hands on her hips, striking a proud and almost aristocratic pose. "Try saying that after you get your ass kicked and come crawling to me for healing."

  "Ah. Ah. Ah," Adrian replied dryly. "Very funny."

  Still, he couldn't deny the truth behind her words. Healers were among the most valued members of the Bearer community. Kingdoms competed for them. Crusader organizations went to great lengths to recruit and protect them. On the battlefield, a single capable healer could mean the difference between annihilation and survival.

  "But a healer, huh…" Adrian murmured, giving the thought another chance to settle.

  As if sensing his doubt, Carrera struck a deliberately cute pose—hands clasped in front of her chest, chin tilted slightly, eyes wide and hopeful—clearly mimicking how she imagined a healer should look.

  Adrian froze.

  For the first time, he really looked at her.

  The sunlight filtering through the trees caught her hair just right. Her expression, playful and earnest all at once, made something twist unexpectedly in his chest. His breath hitched before he even realized it.

  Heat rushed to his face.

  He turned away abruptly, hoping she wouldn't notice the faint red creeping into his green cheeks. "I… I'm sure you'll do great as a healer," he said quickly, voice stiff as he stared straight ahead.

  Carrera blinked.

  Of all the reactions she had expected—teasing, mockery, exaggerated disbelief—that hadn't been one of them.

  "Y-Yeah," she replied, suddenly shy, fingers twirling a strand of her hair. "I would."

  An awkward tension settled between them.

  Adrian shifted uncomfortably. "Is it just me," he muttered, "or is it getting really hot around here?"

  "Y-Yeah," Carrera agreed hastily, eyes darting away as she whistled into the air. "I think it is."

  He cleared his throat. "What do you say we head back home? I think I've done enough training for today."

  She nodded far too quickly. "You're right. We should. Ah—ah—ah." Her nervous laugh rang out hollowly.

  The walk back to town was quiet.

  Unusually so.

  Carrera fidgeted with her hands, glancing at the ground. Adrian rubbed the back of his neck, his thoughts tangled and restless. Neither of them could quite bring themselves to speak, nor could they stop smiling for reasons they didn't fully understand.

  They parted ways at the three-way junction.

  Adrian's home lay to the right. Carrera's was straight ahead.

  They waved awkwardly, turned, and hurried off in opposite directions.

  Later that day, Carrera would bury herself beneath her blanket, giggling uncontrollably while her imagination ran wild.

  Adrian, meanwhile, returned home to find Aunt Mira seated in the living room. She calmly puffed on her tobacco pipe, releasing a hollow ring of smoke into the air.

  "I'm home," he announced, even though he knew she had already sensed him the moment he stepped inside.

  She stood immediately. "Welcome home, Adrian. Are you hungry? I made lunch already."

  "I'm not really hungry," he replied, heading toward his room.

  "Are you sure?" she pressed gently. "I made your favorite."

  "I'm fine, Aunt Mira," he said, forcing a smile. "I just want to sleep."

  "Adrian, wait." She reached out and caught his hand.

  He turned, already knowing what she was worried about. "I really am fine," he reassured her. "I do want to eat… just not right now. I don't have the appetite."

  She searched his face, her stern gaze probing deeper than words. Adrian met it with a calm nod.

  After a moment, she let go.

  "It wouldn't be right to push," she said quietly.

  "Thanks, Aunt Mira," Adrian replied. "And… I'm stronger than that. You know I am."

  She nodded, accepting his resolve.

  Adrian retreated into his room, collapsed onto his bed, and shut his eyes. Sleep didn't come right away—but he pretended it did. He emptied his thoughts, refusing to dwell on fear or expectation.

  He didn't know when consciousness finally claimed him.

  He awoke to the crow of a rooster and the distant stir of Degan coming alive.

  Morning had arrived.

  A day of celebration for many.

  A day of judgment for him.

  Adrian rose slowly, his chest heavy. He wasn't looking forward to the awakening ceremony—but it wasn't something he could avoid.

  Aunt Mira was already awake, preparing fresh food and laying out his clothes. She had chosen them carefully, pressing and straightening every fold as though the day itself depended on it.

  Carrera arrived while he was eating, joining them at the table. Aunt Mira, as always, had made enough for three.

  "Now," Aunt Mira said, standing before them, "which one of you is ready to experience your once-in-a-lifetime soul core awakening?"

  "Me! Me!" Carrera shouted immediately, hands raised as she bounced on her feet.

  "Same here," Adrian said, more quietly. Hesitant—but honest.

  Aunt Mira turned her gaze to him, questioning.

  "I know," Adrian said before she could speak. "Whatever happens… I can take it."

  He bumped his fist lightly against his chest, a silent vow of resolve.

  She studied him, then nodded. "Good. Then let's go. We don't want to arrive late."

  With that, Aunt Mira led the way.

  And Adrian followed—toward a future that would soon reveal whether he truly belonged.