Page 56 of The Song of Sunrise (The Prentice Teller #1)
Ceremony of Stones
T he Stone Ceremony is quickly approaching, where all first year cadets will either receive their stones and continue in their Watcher training or they will be admitted into the WatchGuard infantry, where at least they can thrive in the non-magic channeling infantry to finish out their three-year term.
My week has consisted of waking early to study for finals, resting during the afternoon, then staying up late into the night with Atlys, Cadex, and Damaris for training. On occasion, Atlys will make us duel in an attempt to change up opponent size, stature, and style.
As huge and intimidating as Cadex can be, I’ve learned he’s predictable and uses my small stature and speed as leverage.
Damaris, on the other hand, is a walking weapon. Nothing surprises them. As the Commander of the Coredivers, they are ruthless, cunning, and absolutely incredible to watch demolish anyone who dares challenge them.
Last night was the longest I have lasted battling Damaris.
Two fucking minutes.
I don’t regret my attempt, though my sore muscles would disagree.
I need to be ready for the third task. Ever since Ramona overheard Ragnar from the Jord team talking about the third task happening sometime after the ceremony, I have been mentally preparing.
How the Jord team found out, I’ll never know.
Perhaps all of this decorum has been hiding the fact that no one seems to be playing by the rules.
Wincing from my aching muscles, I pull on the Watcher blue cloak over my formals and make a mental note to visit the healing springs tonight after the ceremony is over.
“Looking sharp, Akemi,” Ramona calls from her vanity where she is currently trying to hide the newly dyed red streaks in her hair. Her family is visiting for the ceremony, and they definitely wouldn’t approve of the new color.
Good thing Ramona’s never much cared for rules. She is at least putting in a valiant effort not to overtly display the bright red streaks.
“Not as sharp as you,” I say half-crediting the latest addition of daggers in her baldric.
Leaf surprised her yesterday with a pair of Elven claw daggers, made custom from the Forest Tribe.
These daggers are quite rare and can only be made when a roc sheds one of their sharp baby claws before hitting maturity.
Ramona chuckles. “I suppose no one is as sharp as me.” She pats her daggers lovingly.
We finish getting ready in our formals and head down to the large hall just north of the main atrium.
Immediately, my heart begins to quicken at the sight.
We haven’t had any classes in this part of the castle, and I see why.
The Watch is set up for military training, magic channeling, and other more practical purposes, not this . The room before me is beautiful.
Marrow would have loved this room.
A stage of gleaming white marble fills the front half of the hall.
Rows and rows of light blue seats face the stage on the main floor, and with each tiered section, the seats become darker in color, as if disappearing into the sky itself.
The dome ceiling is covered with painted scenes of the Old World with a large, circular stained glass window in the center.
Instinctively, I reach inside my pocket for the familiar scrap of Teller fabric. Marrow’s smooth voice fills my head. I want you to take it. Have it on you as a reminder to be bold. I know you are destined for greatness.
Are my achievements enough? Am I enough?
You are destined for greatness , Marrow says again as if he is standing right next to me.
Though seeds of doubt still remain buried beneath the surface, knowing that there is one last task to complete to win the Summit, I’m close.
Nothing short of winning will be enough.
Stories of “gallant efforts” are not stitched into Teller patches, only stories of heroes.
I want the stone not only for the shielding powers to protect other towns from what happened in Goldenpine, but for Marrow’s memory.
Let my win be vengeance upon his death.
Let my story be one worth stitching.
Twelve cadets remain, and yet only one can win the Helios Stone. I have to win.
Ramona leads us to the Sun’cher section of the hall, noted by the draping gold fabrics around the stone columns. I cannot help but gawk at the gorgeous architecture, as if all of the wealth once invested in the castle went to this room despite the rare use of it.
Gilded sculptures of lions, dragons, gargoyles, and rocs line the front of the stage, each peering out mid roar at the audience members, daring them to critique whatever performance is on stage.
Elder Superior Markus now stands on the stage in front of a gleaming glass podium.
He strokes his short auburn beard as he chats with two other Elders gathered on stage.
Families have already begun to fill in the upper decks. Moon’chers fill in near the silver banners, and more Sun’chers join our side. Elders, professors, and cadets alike file into the room, creating a sea of blue as more and more Watcher formals overcrowd the space.
“Please be seated,” Elder Superior says sharply.
The sound of everyone sitting at the same time is like thunder in response to his request. “Tonight is a celebration of aptitude, might, and resilience. For those in their first year of study, today you are cadets, but tonight, you rise as Watchers of the Realm.” Markus pauses smugly as the cheers and applause dissipates.
Gods, I hate that man.
“After today, you will have earned your First Stone, proven yourself worthy of manipulating the Source more than most will ever even understand in their lifetimes. It is an honor and a privilege that we trust you to wield such power.” His eyes scan the audience until he narrows them at me. “Never forget.”
My body strains to keep still under his scrutiny.
The Elder Superior’s cold stares never return to me after a few more minutes of speech about honor, but I keep still regardless, not letting him earn the slightest bit of reaction from his pointed look.
Professor Novak takes the stage next and begins calling cadets up one by one to receive their Stone.
With each new Stone, the Source flares, bursting with magic at the contact with its new wielder.
Foggy white myst tendrils spring in surprising shapes with each new Moon’cher, or s unfyre flares like bright sparkling lights for the Sun’cher cadets.
Each display seems to compete with the next as cadets vie for the crowd’s approval, showcasing their magical abilities.
Finally, it’s my turn to walk the stage. Markus doesn’t bother to hide his grimace. Ever since I arrived in his office on my first night, he has held what seems like a grudge. I roll my shoulders back and keep walking. One foot in front of the other.
“Akemi Nox. I present you with your First Stone. May your light shine as bright as the sun.” Professor Novak recites the traditional Sun’cher blessing and slides a golden cufflink around my wrist. A small flare of light barely registers from my contact with the Source, and a few members of the audience chuckle, Sabra and Ragnar the loudest. My cheeks redden, but I ignore the laughter, knowing deep down why the Sun’cher stone isn’t effective.
I look down and smile at the cuff, pride warming my veins with how far I’ve come, how much I’ve grown in the past few months, and I look forward to wearing this Stone proudly.
Some Watchers choose to wear their Stone in their ears, around their fingers, or embedded into a choker.
I’m not sure yet what style I’m going to do.
Ramona, on the other hand, has a studded choker already commissioned in our room.
I return to my seat, feeling more connected to the Source than I ever have been. The practice stones are nothing like the quality of connection I’m feeling now. It’s almost like the fog around my awareness lifted, clearing my vision for the first time.
And this isn’t even my correct channeling stone! What would it feel like to harness the Starwatcher stone?
Professor Noval interrupts my thoughts. “Ramona Mitchell, I present you with your First Stone. May your light shine as bright as the sun.”
“Sabra Clyopsko, I present you with your First Stone. May the moon guide your way, even on the darkest nights.”
“Artemis Black…”
“Selene Sarin…”
I watch as my whole class walks across the stage to receive their Stones.
Sabra’s reaction to her stone resulted in a huge mushroom-like cloud blasting out into the room, only second to Selene’s swirling myst that created shapes in dancing synchronization that made the entire audience gasp with delight.
Even Ramona’s sun glare was so bright, people had to squint their eyes for the rest of the ceremony.
My display was the smallest by far. But I let any giggles or stares at the reception afterward roll off my shoulders. Sometimes those who are underestimated the most are the ones who can make the most impact.
I don’t need accolades and fancy words to know my worth, to know that I am enough.
The reception immediately following the ceremony is held partly in the auditorium itself and partly in the hall beyond.
Servers walk around with trays of rolled meats, hard boiled eggs, and an assortment of cheeses.
I grab one of the cheese squares and squeeze the small patch of Teller fabric in my pocket, its soft threads an immediate comfort.
Ramona dragged me to the side of the room, where we are now clustered amongst the rest of the Mitchell family.
I cannot help but feel a deep sense of belonging when I’m with them, a swelling in my chest so great and terrible.
I smile as one of Ramona’s older brothers tells another story about their upbringing.
I smile because I know that Marrow would be proud of this moment for me. Maybe he would have made the trip to the Watch to see the ceremony.