Dawnsreach Sanctum
Stuart Domain, AKA Bastion Pass
Sol Continent
Terra, Gaea, solar system
Milky Way Galaxy
Luminary Star sector
19th Vetraeus cycle, 50 New Solaris Prime
Darkness. Silence. A weightless drift. June floated. There was no pain. No body. Just the steady pulse of something vast and ancient thrumming around her. It wasn't sound—it was deeper than that. It was meaning—echoes of memory carved into the roots of the world.
She felt… small. But not alone. A whisper threaded through the void—not a voice, but a presence, older than time, warm as starlight and cold as the sea. It called to her in a language beyond speech, yet every word fell directly into her soul.
You screamed. And I heard you.
June turned—though she had no body, no face—and saw something unfurling in the distance—a shape of impossible proportions. A spiral of radiant threads and flowing symbols, shifting between ice-blue, gold, and violet. It was both within her and all around her.
You are born of me, child of Terra—Soulbound to my breath, crafted from the same clay as the mountain and the moon. You reached for me, and I answered.
Was this... the Odyllic? The Will of the planet? The slumbering spirit that governed balance, cultivation, and life itself? A question formed in her mind. Why me?
The spiral pulsed again.
You carry a frequency that resonates with my song. You desire more than obedience. You seek freedom. Evolution. Wonder. That hunger aligned you with my heart.
She felt the truth of it settle deep within her core, like a puzzle piece finally sliding into place. June had always felt caged by expectations, by the steady, quiet weight of what she was supposed to become. But in her moment of desperation, when death clawed at her face and regret threatened to devour her soul, she had screamed.
And Terra had responded.
Your Awakening is not a gift. It is a choice. You were seen not because you are great, but because you were ready to become something greater.
And then—visions.
A flash of visions, June had no idea what it meant. A shattered temple buried beneath a storm-wracked desert. A sword forged from star-ice. A city burning with violet fire. A golden doorway hidden beneath the roots of a massive tree. And a voice, ancient and terrible, whispering from beyond the stars.
June gasped. The void shattered around her. She awoke.
Her body jolted upright, lungs heaving in a desperate gasp—as if she had just surfaced from the depths of a black ocean. Her chest rose and fell in rapid motion, sweat clinging to her brow. She blinked rapidly, vision swimming in and out of clarity.
Overhead, crystalline lights glowed softly with a sterile white hue, their illumination refracted through mana-infused glass panels. The subtle hum of mana filtration units reverberated through the air like a distant song, and the sharp, clean scent of healing incense—a mixture of silver myrrh and starlotus—clung to her senses. It was calming, artificial, and strangely sacred.
She was lying in a medical recovery chamber—no, not just any chamber.
This was a Golden Dawn Awakening Suite.
The sleek walls were crafted from polished silverstone, a rare, conductive alloy used in high-grade arcano-tech infrastructure. Delicate glyphs etched into the walls flowed like living script, pulsing faintly in sync with her heartbeat. Floating monitoring crystals—each one the size of a plum—hovered silently at the corners of the room, projecting diagnostic glyphs that rotated slowly in the air.
A soft, melodic chime whispered from hidden speakers—an ambient spell-tone, specifically designed to soothe the nervous system of newly awakened souls. Every detail, from the air circulation to the warmth of the sheets, was crafted to help stabilize a soul freshly born into cultivation.
June blinked, eyes slowly adjusting to the ambient glow.
Her skin felt… changed. Not just healed—purified. Her limbs hummed with a low vibration, as though something ancient had been stirred within her. She looked down at her hands. A pale frost-blue aura shimmered faintly around her fingertips, like morning mist clinging to snow. The soft hospital uniform she wore was woven from mana-reactive fiber, its runes now glowing subtly with her signature—her mana.
The door to the chamber slid open with a gentle hiss.
A man stepped in—tall, poised, and dressed in a pristine white coat lined with golden threads. His skin was a deep, lustrous shade of umber, smooth and luminous under the sterile lights. His black hair was tied back, his features refined yet disarmingly warm. And when he smiled, it was with the calm assurance of someone who had seen hundreds of such awakenings before.
This was Dr. Ahmad—renowned across the Sol Domain as the former lead researcher of Project Starseed, and now Chief Medical Officer for the Golden Dawn's Post-Awakening Care Division.
Seeing the dazed, wide-eyed girl sitting upright in bed, Dr. Ahmad offered a reassuring smile as he approached her bedside.
"Looks like you're finally awake, Miss Wyrdward," he said, his voice rich and melodic, like a wind chime echoing through still water.
June blinked, his voice breaking through the fog clouding her thoughts.
"What… happened?" she murmured, her voice hoarse. "Where am I…?"
Her eyes darted around the chamber. She remembered nothing clearly. Just flashes. Screams. Shadows. And a pair of golden eyes staring down at her like a dream caught between stars.
Dr. Ahmad raised a slender, rune-etched diagnostic wand and began scanning her vitals with a few practiced motions. A stream of floating glyphs lit up above his hand, detailing her soul integrity, mental core condition, and mana resonance levels.
"You were involved in an Infernal Incursion," he said gently. "A rather severe one. You were one of the survivors—and more importantly… you awakened during it."
June's breath caught. "I… I awakened?" Her voice trembled. "But that's illegal. Awakening outside of a temple is forbidden under the Sol Domain Law. I—I didn't mean to—"
"Easy, easy," Dr. Ahmad said quickly, raising a hand. "That law only applies to forced or assisted awakenings—those caused by external factors such as mana injections, rituals, or forbidden tech. What you experienced was something else entirely."
He met her eyes.
"You are what we call a Self-Awakener."
June stared at him, mouth slightly open.
"A self…awakener?"
He nodded. "Our scans confirm it. The trauma you suffered during the Infernal attack caused your soul to break past its threshold. Your body and spirit synchronized. That resonance formed your Soul Core—naturally, without external aid. It's rare… but not unheard of. And, well, you're sixteen. That's prime age for soul ignition."
She could hardly believe it. She hadn't even been in an Awakening Temple. No mentors, no guides, no sacred rites. Just her. Her fear. Her scream. And something beyond.
Dr. Ahmad glanced at the data again and gave a small whistle of approval.
"Your cultivation base is remarkably stable," he said, eyebrows raised. "Most newly awakened display erratic mana surges, instability in their soul lattice, or weak resonance patterns. But you… your foundation is strong. Solid. That speaks volumes about your innate soul strength."
June swallowed, her heart thudding against her ribs. She had awakened. And not just awakened—she had survived an Infernal manifestation, harmonized with the planet's will, and emerged with a refined soul core.
"How long have I been unconscious?" she asked quietly.
"Three days," Dr. Ahmad replied. "You were in stasis for most of it. Your soul needed time to recalibrate. But you're stable now. The worst is behind you."
June leaned back slowly, processing the impossible truth. She had crossed a threshold she hadn't even known she was ready for. She was no longer a Dormant Mystic. She was a cultivator now. A true Awakened.
-
Behind the translucent crystal-glass of the observation chamber, four figures stood in silence, their eyes fixed on the girl resting in the medical bed beyond. Sam, cloaked in a long mantle of crimson and gold, her hair dusted with ash and mana-scorched dust from a fresh dungeon raid, stood at the front with her arms crossed. Beside her, Emily, her sharp green eyes studying every detail with clinical precision. Emanu Yesh, the daughter of the founder of the Yesh Institution and one of the most brilliant leyline architects of the post-Convergence era, stood in contemplative silence. And finally, Ginny, the ever-curious arcane engineer, tapped notes into her floating glyph-pad, her multi-lensed goggles flickering with information.
Sam exhaled slowly, fogging up the inside of the observation pane for a brief second before it dissipated. She had barely stepped out of the dungeon when the alert had come through—Infernal Manifestation on Magrail Sector-17, with dozens killed, and one confirmed Awakening.
And not just any awakening.
A Self-Awakener.
In this new era, such a thing was almost unheard of. It was dangerous. Reckless. Almost impossible.
And yet, there she is, Sam thought, watching June interact with Dr. ahmad.
In the age before the Convergence, Self awakening was a miracle. Even Awakening was almost a miraculous efforts for humanity. Now, it was a science—and a dangerous one. Cultivators relied on the Awakening Temples, sprawling towers built at leyline nexuses, infused with stabilization engines and mana-field regulators designed to guide soul core formation safely. Without that infrastructure, a soul core could fracture during ignition, leading to mana hemorrhage, resonance implosion, or even spiritual dissociation—fates worse than death.
And despite their best efforts, the Custodians of Dawn—the neutral party formed by Golden Dawn and Octagram—had yet to fully stabilize the phenomenon. The leyline lattice was still fluctuating. Some births in this new age led to natural Awakening due to the World energy. Others resulted in tragedies, the newborn baby unable to handle the strain of awakening the core. Sam felt the familiar ache of responsibility settle over her chest again.
As Asha'Yee, the Keeper of the Sacred Flame, it was her divine duty to safeguard the path of cultivation. She was the living vessel of the world's oldest fire—the Ember of Genesis—and the chosen guide for this evolving generation of Awakened. But even after fifty years, she had only scratched the surface of solving the instability in the world's Awakening pathways.
Her progress had been personal—she had mastered the mystical arts, expanded her understanding of arcane law, and deepened her communion with the Sacred Flame. But the world didn't need another mystic. It needed a breakthrough. Her eyes lingered on the girl.
June Wyrdward. Sixteen. No external aid. No leyline support. And she didn't fracture. Her soul core had harmonized cleanly with the planet. The Odyllic had responded to her cry. Just like it had once responded to Sam. She remembered it vividly. The pain. The fear. The confusion. Her father had sealed her powers before she could understand what she was. The Arcane Seal he placed on her had suppressed her essence, hidden her potential, and denied her path. For years she had felt hollow. Like something was missing in her life. And in a lots of way, she was missing something.
And then, at nineteen, she had stepped into an Awakening Temple. And the seal had shattered. That day, the flame had spoken. And her life had never been the same. Sam clenched her fist slowly, her eyes on June.
This girl—this frightened, bruised, battleborn girl—was walking the same road. Alone. Unprepared. And now awakened into a world that would never look at her the same way again.
"Her resonance is stable," Ginny said quietly, breaking the silence. "Her mana lattice is syncing smoothly. No fluctuations. No soul fractures. Her Star Core is forming ahead of schedule."
"She shouldn't have survived," Emanu murmured, her voice laced with both awe and concern. "Not without help."
"She didn't need help," Sam said softly, her voice almost a whisper in the quiet observation chamber. "She needed permission. And the world answered her."
Her eyes never left the girl behind the crystalline barrier. There was a resonance pulsing from her even now. Subtle, but undeniable. Her soul had sung, and Terra itself had sung back. Beneath them, buried far below the surface of the Sol Continent, the Sacred Flames stirred.
Once dormant embers hidden deep within the planetary core, the Primordial Fire—the living, ancient consciousness of Terra's soul—was beginning to awaken. Sam could feel it. The Asha'Yee, bearer of the Flame of Genesis, had always been attuned to its whispers. But now, it wasn't just whispering to her.
Its awareness was growing.
Before, only she could commune with it—its chosen vessel. But with the expansion of its consciousness, and the harmonic cry of self-awakened souls like June's, it was possible… terrifyingly possible… that others might also begin to hear its voice.
If their soul was strong enough.
Ginny turned from the floating hololith projector, her fingers still dancing across glowing glyphs. Her eyes—magnified slightly by her multi-lens goggles—reflected the flickering lattice scan hovering in the air between them.
"After examining her resonance patterns, Dr. Ahmad and I found something… unusual," she said. "And it has a direct link to you, Sam."
Sam turned, eyebrow arching. "What is it?"
"Right here," Ginny pointed, magnifying a section of the lattice scan. It zoomed in on a glowing nexus of mana threads. "This segment of her mana lattice—see that? A node formed during her synchronization phase."
Sam leaned in, eyes narrowing. The structure glowed with a faint iridescent hue—different from the other channels and flows. It pulsed with its own rhythm, independent yet harmonized.
"A node?" she asked slowly. "Wait—an Innate Node?"
Emanu Yesh stepped forward, to examine the image, taking in the information.
"Indeed," She confirmed, voice calm but intrigued. "An Innate Mana Node. It formed at the moment her lattice aligned. That's not supposed to happen during Awakening."
"I thought Innate Nodes only emerged in the Harmonization Stage," Sam said, her brows furrowing. "Only once the body, spirit, and energy flow achieve balance and unity."
"Normally, yes," Ginny said, nodding. "But that's assuming the cultivator is following the traditional path. Self-Awakeners… don't follow that path. They forge their own. I believe the Innate Node is not an afterthought—it's the catalyst."
Sam looked back at June's sleeping form, her mind beginning to piece it together.
"You're saying… the reason she awakened was because her Innate Node activated first?"
"Exactly," Ginny replied. "I ran comparisons with your own Awakening scans, Sam. It's the same phenomenon. Your Innate Node had already begun forming when you were sealed—your soul core was simply waiting for the final alignment. When the seal was broken, your node activated and the core ignited."
"So the Innate Node isn't just a Harmonization tool," Sam murmured. "It's a gateway. The soul's first step into self-realization."
Emanu nodded. "The Awakening stage is supposed to be chaotic—soul resonance, internal pressure, energy ignition. But if the cultivator achieves internal harmony—emotional, spiritual, and elemental alignment—then the Innate Node can form naturally. From there, the Soul Core simply follows."
"And that's what happened with her," Sam whispered. "She didn't need an Awakening Temple, or leyline scaffolding, or external pressure. She had her resonance. Her will. And the world heard her."
She turned away from the lattice display and faced the others, her expression solemn.
"If we can understand how Innate Nodes form naturally… we might be able to stabilize the Awakening process. Not just for prodigies like her—but for everyone."
"
"There's more," Ginny said, her voice low but filled with barely restrained excitement. Her gloved fingers flicked across the floating glyph-screen, bringing up layers of data over June's genetic profile. Holographic strands of double helixes rotated slowly above her hand, pulsing with soft blue light.
"Her genome has undergone a transformation," Ginny continued. "Her blood now contains active markers—genetic runes—that didn't exist before. Her DNA is no longer what it was. Something within her bloodline… evolved. And not just by chance. This is guided evolution."
Sam's brow furrowed, her gaze drifting back toward the resting girl in the recovery chamber beyond the glass. "Like me… and Henry."
"Exactly," Ginny nodded. "The mutation patterns are similar. Not identical, but close enough to suggest the same ancestral trigger."
Footsteps echoed behind them. Dr. Ahmad strode into the room, the sliding doors hissing shut behind him. His long white coat swayed as he moved, gold-trimmed sleeves flickering with diagnostic glyphs. He paused beside the holographic display, his expression calm but weighted with knowledge.
"It's the Starseed Gene," he said, his voice carrying the gravity of revelation.
Sam turned to face him fully. "You're talking about Project Starseed."
Dr. Ahmad inclined his head. "Yes. One of Octagrams most ambitious and controversial projects. Its original aim was simple in theory: to instill evolutionary potential into the human genome—reactivating ancient traits buried deep within our bloodlines. Traits that predated even the Ten-Year Chaos."
He crossed his arms, glancing toward June's vitals displayed on the side monitors. "As you know, of the Nine Races, humans are the weakest. Not because we lack soul, or will, or even essence—but because our bodies are riddled with impurity. It clogs our meridians, weakens our cores, and slows our growth. It makes Awakening not just difficult, but often fatal."
"I'm aware," Sam said softly. The weight of her role—of the generations she had sworn to protect—settled heavier on her shoulders.
"And even when we survive the Awakening," Dr. Ahmad continued, "our advancement is painfully slow. Each step through the cultivation realms is a war against the impurities accumulating in our bodies. Other races—like the Pleiadian, the Elven or the Beastkin—don't suffer in the same way. Their essence flows cleaner. Stronger."
"But Project Starseed," Ginny interjected, "was designed to change that. To reactivate the parts of the human genome linked to adaptive resonance—a trait buried deep in our species. The Octagram doctrine believes that we humans possess something no other race does: the ability to adapt at a genetic, spiritual, and metaphysical level. That is our true gift."
Emanu, standing quietly all this time, now spoke up. "Are you saying humanity doesn't have a greater affinity for cultivation—but rather… they adjust to it more easily?"
"Exactly," Dr. Ahmad nodded. "We may not be born with inherent advantages like the or the other races, but our plasticity—our flexibility—allows us to survive what others would not. When exposed to raw world energy, we don't shatter. We change. We mutate. We evolve."
Sam's eyes narrowed slightly, her thoughts stirring.
"But even adaptability has its limits," Dr. Ahmad continued. "The modern human body is still plagued by systemic flaws—decay, instability, and layers of spiritual noise. The world's Awakening instability only amplifies that. Even those who awaken now often do so at great cost."
Sam turned away from the conversation for a moment, her gaze drifting inward.
Inastasia Vysileaf...
A memory not her own echoed in her mind. One of the ancestral bearers of the Sacred Flame. Inastasia had been human—born of Earth and starlight—and yet… she had suffered no impurity. Her energy flowed uncorrupted. Her cultivation had risen like the tide, unimpeded by the flaws that haunted today's generation. And she hadn't been the only one.
No human of her era had suffered impurity.
So what had changed? Her thoughts kept circling the same answer. The same blackened mirror. The Aurenidril Empire. Whatever catastrophe had led to its fall… had also infected the human genome. Perhaps not physically. Perhaps something deeper—something spiritual, alchemical, cosmic. Sam's eyes fell on the spherical object within her grasp. The object pulsed faintly with dormant energy, like a slumbering eye waiting to open.
Now more than ever, she thought, I need to know what's inside.