A few more brought gifts mostly related to the fire attribute. When no one else seemed to be bringing gifts, a calm settled.
"It's about time," Henndar whispered to Lia.
She nodded quickly, but Kethra didn't miss the fear boldly written in her daughter's eyes. She gently pressed Lia's shoulder. "It's going to be okay," she encouraged softly.
"Let us begin!" Henndar's voice rang with authority, carried to every ear in the grand hall.
The doors creaked open, and the testing orb was carried in with care. All eyes followed it as the attendants placed it on the table in the center of the room. Lia stared at it, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. This orb would decide her fate—Aramith's, Mozrael's, and her parents' futures seemed to rest in its glow.
She exhaled deeply, steeling herself as she stepped forward. Every stride felt heavier than the last. Around her, the crowd's emotions were palpable: smugness from the doubters, warm encouragement from those who still believed, and disinterest from the neutral onlookers. The most painful were the sneers she couldn't ignore from the corner of her eye.
At last, she reached the orb. Her hands trembled, but she clasped them tightly, hiding the weakness.
THUDUM! A loud drum echoed through the chamber, reverberating in her chest. Gasps and whispers spread like wildfire as necks craned and some even climbed onto chairs to get a better view.
In the far corner, Elder Er and the Elwicks stood, their smirks smug and confident. Lia could feel their mocking stares like daggers.
She wiped her hands on her dress and reached out. The orb's cold surface sent a shiver through her, but it brought a faint sense of calm. For a moment, nothing happened. The seconds dragged like hours, each one piling more weight onto her shoulders.
Eryndor's voice broke the silence. "Late manifestation, or none at all?" he mused aloud, his tone dripping with faux concern.
The words hit hard, spreading doubt through the crowd. Lia clenched her teeth, fighting the urge to cry. She looked back at Henndar, her eyes pleading. He grinned at her, a small, reassuring gesture that eased the sting. Kethra nodded firmly, her gaze filled with quiet encouragement.
Lia turned back, pressing her entire palm on the orb. She waited.
The faintest orange glow emerged, flickering weakly within the orb. It wasn't much, but it was something. Relief washed over her, and she glanced at Henndar with a tentative smile.
Lia was finally able to crack a smile.
"Fire," someone whispered in the crowd.
But the Elwicks were quick to strike. "A weak glow," Eryndor declared, his smirk widening. "Certainly not worthy of the royal lineage. Compare this to the brilliant red flames of our ancestors," he added with mock sadness.
Lia's confidence wavered. She looked at the faint orange light, her joy turning to doubt. Was this all she could manage?
"Stay," Henndar mouthed, his expression steady.
As the seconds ticked by, the glow brightened. The orange spread, filling the orb more and more, growing into a vibrant flame. The pureness of its white glow was amazing and frightening at the same time.
The crowd gasped. The Elwicks' smugness began to crack.
Then the orange shifted. It deepened, turning white-hot.
CRACK!
Lia stumbled back as the orb shattered, shards flying in all directions with a blinding white light filling the hall. It was as though the sun itself had been unleashed within the chamber. People shielded their eyes, and when the glow finally faded, silence followed.
Lia barely registered the gasps around her. The world felt distant, muffled, as she took a shaky breath. Fragments of the shattered orb drifted down in slow arcs, catching the light like falling stars. They sparkled, weightless, as if the heavens themselves had broken open. And in the center of it all, she stood—untouched, bathed in the fading radiance of the divine flame. Ethereal. Otherworldly.
The silence stretched, thick with awe and disbelief.
Lia finally exhaled, her chest rising and falling as she whispered, "I did it." The words trembled with wonder. She turned instinctively, searching the crowd. "Mozrael, Aramith—I did it. For us all."
But the faces before her were unfamiliar. Row after row of stunned nobles, scholars, and warriors—but not them.
Her stomach tightened. She knew why.
The people had rejected them. The moment Aramith's damned nature and Mozrael's blue flames had manifested, the whispers had begun—whispers that grew into quiet scorn, into glances filled with unease. The prince and princess of the Vermillion Kingdom, yet treated as outsiders, anomalies.
Even so, she had hoped.
Lia's fingers curled at her sides. They weren't here. Not even in the crowd, hidden among the masses.
Her triumph should have felt like a victory. Instead, it felt like a hollow crown placed upon her head.
The scholars were the first to recover, scrambling toward the remnants. One fell to his knees, his voice trembling with awe. "This… this is the purest form of fire. The divine flame. Greater than even the Vermillion flame!"
Lia stared at the shards in disbelief. Her heart raced as her gaze darted to the crowd. Many had fallen to their knees, bowing in reverence. Henndar and Kethra looked on, their faces alight with pride.
Eryndor's face twisted with fury, his smirk long gone. Without a word, he turned and stormed out, his family trailing behind him. They didn't even bother with formalities. He failed to embarrass her and to make matters worse, he'd gifted Lia an artifact to help her with her fire attribute.
Henndar stepped forward, addressing the room with a commanding presence. His speech was short, yet filled with weight, inviting select guests to a private meeting.
Lia returned to her parents' side, overwhelmed but triumphant. Henndar and Kethra's knowing smiles made her heart swell.
They basked in the glow of Lia's success, the atmosphere electric with joy and pride. Henndar eventually excused himself to attend a meeting, his departure met with respectful nods as the representative of other kingdoms went with him. Guests continued to pour in, each offering heartfelt congratulations to Lia.
As the evening wore on, the celebration slowly began to wind down. The crowd, now filled with hope and renewed faith, started to disperse. Many left with smiles, their spirits lifted by the promise Lia's triumph had brought them. Whispers of acceptance even began to ripple through the once-hostile faces, softening their views toward Mozrael and Aramith.
She went off to look for them, and Kethra was engaged in talks with other dignitaries.
As the room thinned out, a new arrival stole the remaining guests' attention.
She entered without fanfare, yet her presence demanded it. Silence cut through the air around those who noticed her, but in other places, conversations continued normally. Draped in snow-white attire, her porcelain skin only added to her ethereal grace. Her cold, unfeeling eyes scanned the room before settling on the table where gifts had been laid out. Without a word, she raised a delicate hand, and a large gift box materialized, placed carefully on the table. Its contents remained a mystery to all.
As they studied her, they noticed a few things about her.
A pair of snowflake earrings, crystalline and impossibly delicate. A choker, laced with deep sapphire threads, bearing a single, unmistakable insignia—a Glacial Snowflake, a mark of bloodline, of status, of power. Only a select few could wear such a thing.
And even fewer knew what it meant.
Some watched with cautious intrigue. Others—those who knew exactly who she was—barely hesitated before shifting their gazes to their superiors. Conversations cut short. Messages needed to be relayed.
If she truly was who they thought, then she wasn't supposed to be here. This was a major statement.
And yet, here she was.
Unbothered. Unhurried.
The girl turned, her movements precise and deliberate, and walked to a corner of the room. She claimed a seat, ignoring the whispers that buzzed around her like flies. Captivated by her beauty, the remaining guests openly stared. Though she seemed no older than her teens, her poise and presence felt ageless.
And yet, there were a few young men- nobles who believed they had found their match. They had lost their chance with the first three beauties—but not this time. No. This one, they could not let slip away. Their gazes latched onto her, drawn by an invisible pull, as though she were a rare flower blooming in the dead of winter. A prize yet unclaimed.
Yet despite their shared infatuation, none dared approach her at first. The lateness of her arrival, which would usually spark irritation, now felt like a stroke of fortune—they thanked their ancestors she had arrived after most had left.
Just as a few brave souls mustered the courage to step forward, a figure strode in, cutting through their ambitions like a blade.
Isir.
Oh, come onnnnnn!
The groans from the would-be suitors were audible as the young heir of the Elwick clan made his way to her side. Tall, confident, and impeccably dressed, he enjoyed seeing their disappointment. His return was unexpected—he was supposed to have left with his family. Weren't they the unhappy bunch that left earlier? They couldn't help but curse whoever or whatever brought him back.
Whyyyyyyy?
I swear I'll kill the person who brought him back
Taking the seat beside her, Isir flashed a triumphant smirk at the watching crowd before turning his attention to her. With a snap of his fingers, a servant appeared with a drink. He presented it to her with all the flourish of a knight offering tribute to a queen.
She glanced at the glass, her nose scrunching in faint distaste. Her red lips pursed into a thin line, and without a word, she looked away.
The slight rejection stung. Isir coughed awkwardly, pushing the glass aside as though it had offended him. "I... I can't help but notice you're not from around here. May I ask where you're from?"
Silence.
"I'm Isir, by the way."
Her gaze remained fixed on the far wall, as though he were beneath her notice.
"If you'd tell me your name, I could introduce you to some of the most influential people here." His voice tightened, irritation creeping in.
Still, she did not respond.
Finally, she sighed, her icy eyes locking onto his. He felt his chest tighten as she leaned toward him slightly, her breath ghosting over his skin. She sniffed him, her expression unreadable, and he froze, unsure whether to feel flattered or insulted.
"I... If there's anything you need, I could—"
"Which family are you from?" she interrupted, her tone cool and distant.
The question made him sit up straighter. His initial irritation melted into smug confidence. If there was one thing he could boast about, it was his family name.
"I'm from the Elwick clan," he said, puffing his chest. "Surely you've heard of us. We're the most influential family in the kingdom. There's no one who doesn't know the Elwick name."
For a moment, the room held its breath. Then her lips curved—not into a smile, but into something sharp and cruel.
"The Elwick clan?" she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "Ah, yes. I've heard of you. Filthy merchants, desperate for validation. Do you think your family's name carries weight in my world? You're not even worthy to polish my boots after they've stepped in horse dung."
Jaws dropped to the floor and gasps filled the room as she rose, brushing off her skirts as though his very presence sullied her. From a small vial at her waist, she poured a clear liquid over her hands, rubbing them delicately as though cleansing herself of him.
"Do yourself a favor, boy. Stay in your lane. You're not even from the royal family and you dare speak to me?"
She turned on her heel and strode away, leaving stunned silence in her wake. All the nobles who had thought of interacting with her thanked their ancestors greatly for the lost chance of humiliation. They also thanked Isir inwardly for sacrificing himself.
For a long moment, Isir remained frozen, his jaw slack. Then, as the whispers began to rise around him, his humiliation boiled over. This day really was a day of humiliation for the Elwicks.
"I'll burn your whole family down, you hear me?!" he shouted, his fists clenched as he stormed toward the door.
From the shadows, a melodic laugh rang out.
"Adorable," Iris said, stepping into view. She clutched her sides, tears of laughter gleaming in her eyes. "You really don't know when to quit, do you? Hahaha! Look at him angry! Haha!"
"Not now, Iris," Isir growled, his tone sharp.
But she ignored him, her laughter undeterred. "First Mozrael, now this? You do have impeccable taste, brother—always drawn to the unattainable. Oh right, The king even rejected you coming close to Lia! But I have to admit, this one? Absolutely priceless. Did you see the way she dismissed you? Hah! At least she spoke to you. That's an upgrade, no?"
Her words stung. The first time he met Mozrael, three years ago, he tried speaking to her, but she brushed him aside. Even refusing to acknowledge his presence when he stood right in front of her. Her only interests were Lia and Aramith.
"While you're laughing, remember she insulted the whole family," Isir snapped, still seething.
Iris paused, her expression momentarily serious. "She insulted us? What did she say?"
"She said—"
Her laughter erupted again before he could finish. "Like I care! That was all you, little brother. Your humiliation, your problem. Don't drag the rest of us into it."
Isir muttered darkly under his breath as she continued to laugh, her voice trailing after him as he stalked out of the room.
He was only grateful his family didn't see him drag their name through mud.
His hatred for Henndar and his small family doubled. He remembered her simple comment signaling that she would only dare to speak to them instead.
"Aramith..." he muttered as if the boy had harmed him.
From a distance,Aramith sneezed loud.