The acropolis was in chaos. The province’s aristocrats, still amazed by Grace’s extraordinary talent, had barely gathered their thoughts before the God of Light appeared in person.

  Apollo had descended from the heavens for a little girl!

  What an honor! What magnificence!

  All the nobles, from the highest-ranking men to respected older women, acted like excited children. They shouted and pushed each other, eager just to see a hint of their idol.

  The air remained thick with whispers and surprised exclamations. Everyone tried to catch a glimpse of the divine figure, said to be the most handsome man alive.

  Some people were already thinking about proposing marriage. Others told their assistants to gather and sell any information they could find. The wisest simply watched Catherine to see how she would react.

  Fulvius, Eve, and Adam’s eyes glowed along with the Altar, showing their connection to the element of light. The holy daughter held her breath, trying to see her divine 'father’s' shining face, but she didn’t dare interrupt him.

  Mother and son stared at the Altar, covered in a bright light. Like everyone else, they could only make out blurry shapes.

  Grey couldn’t stop shaking. He felt proud and excited for his sister. He clenched his fists, hoping his own awakening would bring him the same attention.

  At the same time, Catherine struggled to hide her worry. She knew the God of Light would probably treat her daughter fairly, and Grace would likely benefit from this meeting. Still, her motherly instincts made her more and more anxious.

  ‘It’s unsettling that someone is talking to my child without my permission, even if it’s God himself. Am I really so paranoid?’ she wondered silently.

  All around the acropolis, she was the only woman looking into the pillar of light, not to see the famous man, but to find her daughter.

  After a while, the bright light slowly faded.

  Then, in front of everyone, Allaric appeared, looking much younger. It was clear he had gained something from meeting his patron. His shoulders were broader, his eyes sharper, and he even looked taller.

  Grace, however, looked exactly the same.

  She smiled brightly, dimples showing on her cheeks, clearly in a good mood.

  The priest calmly led Grace to her older siblings. He nodded quietly to Eve and Fulvius, making them look at his right hand.

  He made a subtle hand gesture, shaping his fingers like a 'gun.' His colleagues understood right away and froze, shocked by what was happening.

  With Apollo’s appearance, all their plans had to change. They could only obey and do their best to follow his command. For those who serve him, a god’s will is law.

  Fulvius quickly gave orders to his assistants.

  At the same time, Eve linked arms with her husband and whispered something that made Adam tense up. He didn’t show his feelings, but his mind was racing.

  ‘Heh… I never expected this. Who would have guessed that the story we made up to protect our reputation would turn out to be true? Should I be happy or sad?’ the governor wondered, glancing at his third wife.

  He whispered:

  “Forgive me, Catherine. I have no choice. For the province’s sake, I must follow the divine will,” Adam murmured quietly, nodding in approval to his first wife.

  From that moment, everything started happening too fast.

  Catherine had just checked on her daughter when Allaric took Grey and Adam made his announcement.

  “Citizens of the Roman Empire! Sons and daughters of the Province of Light!

  Rejoice—for the God of Light himself, the great Apollo, has descended among us!”

  His gaze is upon us. His presence is a blessing. This ceremony will be remembered in history forever!

  I ask you, maintain dignity and order. Let our patron see us in our best light. Let us carry this ceremony through to its end.

  May no heart forget: all happens by the will of the divine. Phoebus!”

  The crowd echoed back: “Phoebus!”

  After hearing her husband’s speech, Catherine sighed and chose to wait for the ceremony to finish. She felt uneasy about the god’s interest in her daughter. Only time might tell what challenges lay ahead. Little Grace would have to work hard to live up to the title of 'God’s Chosen.'

  But that was a worry for another time. Now it was Grey’s turn. As her son walked to the Altar, Catherine realized with a heavy heart how fast her children were growing. It felt like just yesterday they were wrapped in blankets, and now they were taking part in the Awakening ceremony.

  It was a happy moment for any parent, but also a little sad. She barely had time to look away before her children would be gone. Would she even get to enjoy watching them grow up?

  “It’s impossible… Prince Grey could have a rainbow core of S-class too,” whispered the crowd.

  “They’re twins, why not? Look how alike they are.”

  “Good God, two legendary S-class cores at one ceremony? Seriously?”

  Grey walked to the Altar, tuning out the background chatter from the statists around him.

  “Hm… How do I even know that strange word?” Grey barely had time to ponder the question when an excited shout rang out from his older sister in the crowd:

  “COME ON, BROTHER! YOU CAN DO IT!”

  Her shout made the usually serious boy smile. His thoughts changed direction.

  ‘I can’t lose to my little big sister! I wonder what kind of core I’ll get… Although, does it even matter? Even if it’s E-class, Mom will take care of me and cover for me. Big deal—I’ll just have to grant Grace’s wishes. I’d do that anyway.’

  ‘Of course, I don’t want to upset Mom or Dad. Wait. Why should I care about that old man? Shows up once a month, looks at me like I’m leprous. What have I done to him? Aren’t you my father? Ah, whatever. The important thing is—I’m always with Mom and Grace.’

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Finally, the boy reached the top of the Altar, where his sister had just awakened. His distant look turned into one of excitement and anticipation. Orb of Origin stood directly before him. Beautiful and mysterious, it seemed as if an entire galaxy swirled within. Grey’s full attention was fixed on it.

  As he watched the sphere’s smooth surface, he barely noticed the cardinal’s dull speech. He already knew what to do from his mother’s lessons and from watching his sister. Now, he could hardly wait to show his own talent.

  Grey acted fast. He put his small hand on the polished sphere and tried to sense the energy inside.

  The Altar flared with light once more.

  The boy closed his eyes and tried to focus. He felt a tickling sensation near his stomach. Without thinking, he guided it up through his body—from his solar plexus to his shoulder, down his arm, and out to his fingertips.

  As soon as the energy left his body, the sphere turned pitch black, so dark it looked like it swallowed the light around it.

  “Crack”—the sphere split.

  ‘No, no, no! Wait, this isn’t supposed to happen!’ Panic rose inside him. ‘I did everything right. I can still feel a little tingling.’

  He frantically ran through the steps of the ceremony in his mind, searching for the mistake. What went wrong? Why did the sphere…

  Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his back. It was a strange feeling, to say the least.

  He froze. Slowly, he looked down and saw a sharp blade sticking out of his chest.

  The world went silent.

  “They… stabbed me? Now? Seriously?..”

  Grey’s thoughts stalled. He lifted his eyes slowly, searching for any explanation.

  Allaric loomed above him. His face bore a soft, almost gentle smile… yet behind that tenderness Grey saw only fanaticism and madness. In his hand, the pristine white dagger still glimmered—the very blade that had pierced the boy’s chest.

  At last, his mind registered the pain. A wave of agony surged through his body.

  A moment later, his breathing slowed. His vision blurred, and the world spun. He could barely hear the crowd’s screams, as if they came from underwater—strange and far away.

  Consciousness began to slip away.

  Before finally plunging into darkness, he looked at Allaric one last time.

  The priest’s face glowed from within. Literally. His eyes burned with a supernatural, divine light. The smile never left his lips, as if he had done something magnificent.

  But Grey didn’t have time to think about it. Weakness took over. Cold and pain spread through his body, and even those feelings started to fade.

  The light flickered.

  Catherine suddenly saw something horrifying.

  Her mind went completely blank. She nearly lost her sanity.

  And in the next instant… the world shuddered.

  Her magical core beat with energy, and her aura flared with anger. Pure rage took over her whole being.

  Without a second’s hesitation, Catherine rushed toward the Altar. Her instincts screamed her to act. She was ready to destroy anything in her way and punish the cardinal who hurt her son.

  But as soon as she moved, Adam and Fulvius blocked her path. Behind them, ten acolytes from the Religion of Light stood in a line, all dressed in white tunics, armed, and looking determined.

  What? They really dared to stand in her way?

  There was no time to think. A furious Skyborn was not exactly the kind of conversationalist one could reason with. She decided to attack first and ask questions later. Maybe…

  A slender sword appeared in her hand, and she struck at Fulvius without hesitation or warning—a single, swift, deadly swing.

  Fulvius didn’t even have time to react. He saw only a flash before he was thrown back, coughing and choking on his own blood. His body hit the crowd, leaving a trail of blood on the marble floor.

  She didn’t pause. Her aim was already on Adam.

  Her fingers glowed as she cast a spell, forming a fireball that grew larger every second while she screamed:

  “ADAM! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!”

  Without waiting for an answer, she hurled the fireball at her husband. She didn’t really want to hear his excuses; her question was just a way to let out her anger and use up the mana boiling inside her. Nothing more.

  Adam barely managed to raise a shield of Light before the spell exploded, showering sparks and waves of heat. He staggered back, singed and coughing, but still shouted:

  “Forgive me, my love… It is all the will of the god… Phoebus…”

  His words were lost in the noise. Catherine was already rushing toward the Altar, unstoppable. The guards couldn’t hold her back for even a moment. One by one, they fell—some burned by fire, others thrown aside by her aura.

  “She’s… a Skyborn? How?! She couldn’t have broken through that fast!’ The thought raced through Adam’s mind as the heads of his three subordinates rolled across the floor.

  But the woman paid no mind to his astonishment. She had no time—for words or for doubt. Every second counted, and she knew it.

  Ten meters. Only ten.

  Never before had they felt so far away. Usually, she would have crossed the distance in the blink of an eye. Now, each step proved like a battle against reality itself.

  The final meters. Catherine saw Grey’s frozen face, pale and motionless. The sight lent her inhuman strength.

  With one last push, her sword cut through the air and broke the barrier of light.

  Allaric, wearing a fanatical smile, still held the dagger’s hilt, lost in prayer. Blood ran down his wrists, soaking his white sleeves, but he ignored it, as well as the crowd’s screams and the chaos of battle.

  “God, let Your name be glorified…” he whispered in a hurried rush, gasping for breath, “…Deliver us from sin. Grant redemption to the innocent, and punishment to the sinner yet to come. In the name of Light, I proclaim: ‘Disperse!’”

  The dagger of light flared and dimmed.

  Allaric resolutely pulled it from the boy’s back. He had reached his goal. One more moment, and the ritual would be complete. The final stroke, the last act, but…

  He looked at the child. Saw his blue eyes.

  The boy was neither angry nor afraid. His gaze seemed confused, as if he still hadn’t realized his life was in danger.

  But a chill passed through Allaric…

  In the eyes the color of a summer sky, he saw only a dark pupil, throbbing, as if trying to consume the cornea. Like a prehistoric beast trapped in a cage.

  The priest’s whole world shrank to those eyes. Nothing else mattered—not the temple, not the blood, not the crowd. Only he and that endless pupil.

  Allaric heard the call of death. Felt the cold of the reaper’s scythe pressed to his throat. His tongue was filled with a coppery taste—as if Charon’s coin already lay in his mouth. He felt all of it with terrifying clarity.

  Instincts shouted not to move, lest the beast break free from its cage, devour him, become the reaper, and claim his soul.

  Moments of hesitation proved fatal.

  Allaric heard a crack, like shattering glass. The shield of light could not withstand Catherine’s furious assault.

  Searing pain tore through his left side. He barely had time to summon a defense before he was hurled from the Altar.

  The priest’s body slammed against an “unbreakable” marble column with a sickening crunch.

  “Crack.”

  Cracks spread across the stone. Or were those his bones?

  Allaric lost consciousness.

  Finally, Catherine reached her son. Her hands tremor with rage, fear, and panic as she reached for his still body.

  “Grey!!!!! Grey!!! DON’T DIE, SON, MOM IS HERE. MOM IS RIGHT HERE. I’M SORRY. I’M SORRY!” — her desperate scream burst through the air, drowning out the din of the crowd and the crackle of spells.

  Her trembling fingers moved clumsily, trying to stem the flow of blood. Falling to her knees, she pressed Grey to her chest, forgetting entirely the battle raging around them.

  Everything else disappeared. Only her son remained, still and silent in her arms.

  Cassia appeared from the shadow of her mistress, ready for combat. Her appearance was accompanied by the collapse of three more acolytes. Precise. Swift. Silent.

  “WHY, ADAM, WHY?! TELL ME THE REASON!!!!!” Catherine shouted.

  With one hand, she pressed on the wound; with the other, she quickly poured potions that seemed to appear out of nowhere. She whispered healing spells as fast as she could, pushing her magical core to its limit.

  Adam exhaled heavily, dispersing the lingering remnants of the attack.

  “Forgive me, Catherine. I have orders,” he began, his voice quiet, but each word struck like a hammer.

  “Before Sevilles vanished, they said: ‘When day and night fall out of rhythm, a child will be born whose shadow will eclipse the sun. Old histories will burn, legends will be rewritten. Invaders will come, and the world will bear new chains.’”

  Catherine ignored him. She didn’t care in the slightest. This was no time to listen to the nonsense of her former husband. She had to focus on healing Grey.

  But Adam pressed on:

  “Listen to me—Grey is not our son! Do you think God would command the killing of the innocent? What about the Senate, the pontiffs? It’s all true! He is not a child; he is the devil! The harbinger of night. By killing him, we save not just the Province of Light, but all of humanity.”

  The tension in the air got stronger.

  Everyone held their breath at the revelation. More and more guards converged on the Acropolis. Their steps echoed dully across the stone. The circle closed, cutting the tragic scene off from the world.

  Grey lay on the cold marble tiles, lifeless and pale. His chest did not rise.

  Adam spoke with increasing certainty, watching his third wife intently.

  Catherine was beside herself. As a trapped animal, she shifted between rage, panic, and pain.

  “There’s always a choice,” she whispered. “And you’ve chosen wrong.”