Anika had always carried herself with a grounded, unshakable calm.
Ever since she could remember, fear had been something distant—something that happened to other people.
But today, for the first time, it lingered in her chest like a stone she could not swallow.
She stood before the obsidian sphere.
It pulsed faintly under the cathedral’s cold light, silent and waiting.
Around her, the gathered clergy watched in reverent anticipation.
Yet Anika’s composure hid something far less certain.
Beneath her steady expression was a fear she refused to show—fear of pain, fear of failure… and above all, fear that she might awaken something too weak to protect the only person who mattered to her.
Mathew.
Her best friend.
Her anchor.
With a quiet breath that trembled just slightly at the edges, Anika lifted her hand and pressed it against the obsidian surface.
For most candidates, the ritual would begin with a mist-like reaction—souls resonating, essence swirling, the sphere responding in predictable patterns.
But nothing about Anika was predictable.
The moment her palm made contact, the entire cathedral shuddered violently.
A deep tremor rippled outward, not just through stone and glass, but through the very foundation of the capital itself.
The chandeliers swayed overhead.
The marble floors groaned.
Outside, trees bent as though bowing to an invisible force, and the lakes beyond the city surface churned in restless waves.
Nature itself had begun to react.
Anika’s eyes widened slightly as she felt it—soul essence flooding toward her in impossible volumes.
Not drawn.
Not forced.
But given.
As though the world itself had recognized her and answered willingly.
Within the grand hall, confusion erupted.
“What is happening right now?” Auro demanded, his voice edged with disbelief.
“I think I can explain,” Lady Godspell replied quietly, her gaze fixed intently on Anika.
“This phenomenon is tied to the constellation’s blessing upon her.”
“And what exactly does that mean?” Sir Auro pressed.
Godspell did not look away from the girl.
“She possesses the ability to communicate with—and command—all aspects of nature.
Even as a child, nature has always responded to her presence.
What we are witnessing is not resistance… but recognition.”
Auro frowned.
“That still doesn’t explain why the essence is entering her without pain.
Or why the entire capital is reacting.”
Lady Godspell finally turned to him.
“Then answer me this, Sir Auro.
If you could distribute soul essence freely, who would you favor most?”
He hesitated.
“Those I value most.”
“And would you not also ensure they never suffer needlessly while receiving it?”
Auro’s expression shifted slightly.
“I suppose I would.”
“Then you already understand,” she said softly.
“Nature is doing the same.
It is not being taken from—it is being offered.
Willingly.
Abundantly.
Because she is cherished by it.”
A silence settled over him as the implication took hold.
A human who could command nature itself… not through force, but through harmony.
If properly nurtured, properly trained, she would not merely become powerful—
She would ascend beyond convention.
Perhaps even to the level of an Imperial.
Inside the cathedral, Anika exhaled slowly, almost in disbelief.
“It doesn’t even hurt…” she murmured.
Then quickly added under her breath, “Don’t say that too loudly.
That’s how people jinx things.”
The Pope stepped forward, his expression shifting from reverence to awe.
He leaned in slightly, studying her as though she were something myth made real.
“In all my years,” he said at last, “I have never witnessed a body accept natural essence so completely, so effortlessly.”
A woman beside him gently pulled at his sleeve.
“Your Holiness, you should not approach her yet.
Not until the formation is complete.”
But it was already too late.
A sudden resonance thundered through the cathedral.
Light erupted.
A brilliant silver radiance consumed the entire hall, so intense that every observer was forced to shield their eyes.
The world itself seemed to hold its breath as the glow swelled—brighter, purer, almost divine in its pressure.
And then, just as suddenly as it began, it ceased.
Silence fell.
When vision returned, Anika stood at the center of the chamber.
Transformed.
Not in body alone, but in presence.
Her once familiar beauty now carried something beyond human refinement—something elevated.
It was as though the concept of nature itself had shaped her form and called it perfect.
The air around her felt cleaner, lighter, almost reverent.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
The Pope exhaled slowly, his voice breaking the silence.
“This… is beyond expectation.”
A saintess nearby stepped forward hesitantly.
“Your Holiness… what does it mean?”
He turned to face the entire cathedral, his robe shifting as he removed his ceremonial necklace.
“In five thousand years of recorded history,” he declared, “only five individuals have ever approached the threshold of divinity.
The last was recorded a century ago.”
His gaze returned to Anika.
“But today, that history changes.”
A pause.
Then, with absolute certainty:
“Behold.
Lady Anika.”
“The one who has achieved the rank of—Sacred.”Anika had always carried herself with a grounded, unshakable calm.
Ever since she could remember, fear had been something distant—something that happened to other people.
But today, for the first time, it lingered in her chest like a stone she could not swallow.
She stood before the obsidian sphere.
It pulsed faintly under the cathedral’s cold light, silent and waiting.
Around her, the gathered clergy watched in reverent anticipation.
Yet Anika’s composure hid something far less certain.
Beneath her steady expression was a fear she refused to show—fear of pain, fear of failure… and above all, fear that she might awaken something too weak to protect the only person who mattered to her.
Mathew.
Her best friend.
Her anchor.
With a quiet breath that trembled just slightly at the edges, Anika lifted her hand and pressed it against the obsidian surface.
For most candidates, the ritual would begin with a mist-like reaction—souls resonating, essence swirling, the sphere responding in predictable patterns.
But nothing about Anika was predictable.
The moment her palm made contact, the entire cathedral shuddered violently.
A deep tremor rippled outward, not just through stone and glass, but through the very foundation of the capital itself.
The chandeliers swayed overhead.
The marble floors groaned.
Outside, trees bent as though bowing to an invisible force, and the lakes beyond the city surface churned in restless waves.
Nature itself had begun to react.
Anika’s eyes widened slightly as she felt it—soul essence flooding toward her in impossible volumes.
Not drawn.
Not forced.
But given.
As though the world itself had recognized her and answered willingly.
Within the grand hall, confusion erupted.
“What is happening right now?” Auro demanded, his voice edged with disbelief.
“I think I can explain,” Lady Godspell replied quietly, her gaze fixed intently on Anika.
“This phenomenon is tied to the constellation’s blessing upon her.”
“And what exactly does that mean?” Sir Auro pressed.
Godspell did not look away from the girl.
“She possesses the ability to communicate with—and command—all aspects of nature.
Even as a child, nature has always responded to her presence.
What we are witnessing is not resistance… but recognition.”
Auro frowned.
“That still doesn’t explain why the essence is entering her without pain.
Or why the entire capital is reacting.”
Lady Godspell finally turned to him.
“Then answer me this, Sir Auro.
If you could distribute soul essence freely, who would you favor most?”
He hesitated.
“Those I value most.”
“And would you not also ensure they never suffer needlessly while receiving it?”
Auro’s expression shifted slightly.
“I suppose I would.”
“Then you already understand,” she said softly.
“Nature is doing the same.
It is not being taken from—it is being offered.
Willingly.
Abundantly.
Because she is cherished by it.”
A silence settled over him as the implication took hold.
A human who could command nature itself… not through force, but through harmony.
If properly nurtured, properly trained, she would not merely become powerful—
She would ascend beyond convention.
Perhaps even to the level of an Imperial.
Inside the cathedral, Anika exhaled slowly, almost in disbelief.
“It doesn’t even hurt…” she murmured.
Then quickly added under her breath, “Don’t say that too loudly.
That’s how people jinx things.”
The Pope stepped forward, his expression shifting from reverence to awe.
He leaned in slightly, studying her as though she were something myth made real.
“In all my years,” he said at last, “I have never witnessed a body accept natural essence so completely, so effortlessly.”
A woman beside him gently pulled at his sleeve.
“Your Holiness, you should not approach her yet.
Not until the formation is complete.”
But it was already too late.
A sudden resonance thundered through the cathedral.
Light erupted.
A brilliant silver radiance consumed the entire hall, so intense that every observer was forced to shield their eyes.
The world itself seemed to hold its breath as the glow swelled—brighter, purer, almost divine in its pressure.
And then, just as suddenly as it began, it ceased.
Silence fell.
When vision returned, Anika stood at the center of the chamber.
Transformed.
Not in body alone, but in presence.
Her once familiar beauty now carried something beyond human refinement—something elevated.
It was as though the concept of nature itself had shaped her form and called it perfect.
The air around her felt cleaner, lighter, almost reverent.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
The Pope exhaled slowly, his voice breaking the silence.
“This… is beyond expectation.”
A saintess nearby stepped forward hesitantly.
“Your Holiness… what does it mean?”
He turned to face the entire cathedral, his robe shifting as he removed his ceremonial necklace.
“In five thousand years of recorded history,” he declared, “only five individuals have ever approached the threshold of divinity.
The last was recorded a century ago.”
His gaze returned to Anika.
“But today, that history changes.”
A pause.
Then, with absolute certainty:
“Behold.
Lady Anika.”
“The one who has achieved the rank of—Sacred.”