Chapter 12

Sister Halcyon gathered the Unclaimed without ceremony.

There was no casual assembly, no lingering conversation, and little was said as she moved with quiet efficiency, guiding the group through numerous corridors that narrowed, straightened, and then opened into a vast instructional hall clearly designed for order and observation.

The chamber they eventually came to was large enough to swallow sound.

Tiered seating rose along the walls, already occupied by observers who sat in still rows, hands folded, faces impassive. The floor itself was divided into eight circular platforms, each etched with faint symbols that glimmered only when looked at directly. The spacing was deliberate, wide enough that ten people could spar at once without interfering with one another.

More evaluations? Pyre thought as he took in a place clearly designed for combat. I thought today was about Domains.

Whatever camaraderie had existed among the Unclaimed thinned the moment they stepped inside, Balefor no longer joking, all of them with serious looks on their faces, even Kesh, who was almost always smiling.

Sister Halcyon stepped forward and waited until silence settled completely. Once she was ready, she spoke precisely, voice level and clinical as always. “Almost all of you have dedicated your lives to this very moment.” Her gaze moved across them without lingering. “You come from realms with differing interpretations of the process, but you have prepared for this in ways you hoped would shape your Resonant Domain. Now, the true discovery begins.”

She clasped her hands behind her back.

“As most of you know,” Sister Halcyon said, her eyes glazing past Pyre, “Domains are anchors of personality. Think of them as the blueprint to a building drawn by your past actions. Domains are, simply, who you are, and they are manifested in your Sigil. This would be one reason why Kesh has a lute.” She gestured lightly toward the bard. “But it is rarely that simple. Your Domains may manifest in ways that defy expectation.”

Pyre felt several eyes flick toward him and then away again.

“To put it another way, when a soul arrives in the Nether and undergoes Shriving—the process of shedding bonds, impurities, and sins of a soul’s mortal life—its Resonant Domain produces a corresponding Sigil. This choice is not made by the soul consciously. It is made by what your Domains embody.” She turned slightly. “There was a reason you fought one another yesterday. It was not a competition, nor did it have anything to do with showmanship. It was orientation, a way for us to see what you could manifest and how you’d use it. You were shown where you stand, and now, we will explore that further.”

A door opened behind her, and seven figures stepped into the hall.

They wore gray robes like Halcyon’s, functional and unadorned, tied at the waist, but uniformity ended there. Three were human. One had blue skin and tentacled arms that moved independently. Another was made entirely of stone, taller even than Balefor, its joints grinding softly as it walked. One was invisible except for their clothing, a hollow outline where a body should have been. The last was a furry creature barely three feet tall, eyes bright and alert.

“These are your instructors for today,” Halcyon said. “Each has mastered at least one Domain. Today, you will be graded further as we lead your souls through the Domain discovery process, where your Resonant Domain will be identified.” Her tone sharpened slightly. “I have said this before, but it warrants being repeated: some of you already know where your strength answers. Some will discover it here. Some will struggle.” A brief pause. “Some may be very surprised.”

Pyre glanced around the group.

Windscar stood tall as always, satisfaction and confidence evident in the set of his shoulders; Balefor was attentive, chin slightly forward, focused; Saejin remained unmoving, eyes closed; Marrowsven watched with open curiosity, one clawed hand resting lightly on her shoulder; Lyra’s hood was up, her face unreadable; Urosh stood with arms crossed, massive frame steady; and Kesh looked content, yet still without a smile.

“Remember,” Sister Halcyon said, “your souls are still shedding mortal residue. As much as you may believe you are ready for Domain Trials, you are not. Not yet. Your soul will inform you when it is ready, and then you’ll come to better understand your place in the Nether and your role in Aevum. You might do this here or you might do this under the sponsorship of one of the factions. That remains to be seen.”

Pyre cleared his throat.

“Yes?” Sister Halcyon asked, turning to him.

“You’ve said Domain and Resonant Domain,” Pyre said carefully. “What’s the difference?”

Windscar answered before she could respond. “Your Resonant Domain is raw identity, the starting material. It becomes a true Domain only after it has been proven through a trial.” He looked back to Halcyon. “Really, Sister, why is he here?”

Pyre was mere moments away from turning to Windscar when Sister Halcyon spoke. “That is precisely why.” She offered Windscar a faint grin. “You’ve answered your own question. None of you can manifest your Sigil fully. Pyre can. That makes him unique among us.”

“Has something like this ever happened before?” Lyra asked.

“No, it has not. While we have seen Lost Sigils, no one has ever shown up to the gates of Aevum with a solid Sigil. But like you all, he survived Shriving, meaning Pyre, too, has a Resonant Domain.”

“And our grading?” Balefor asked Sister Halcyon. “How will we be graded?”

“Yes, a good question. We will use your sparring performance, the analysis of your Resonant Domain, and sigil maturity to grade you. Rest assured: you will leave here today knowing where you stand so you can properly prepare for attunement. Let’s begin.”

The instructors moved forward, pairing off with practiced ease. The stone figure approached Balefor. One of the humans went to Saejin, while the remaining two split toward Marrowsven and Urosh.

The tentacled instructor loomed before Windscar. The small, furry creature stopped in front of Lyra. The translucent instructor took position before Kesh.

The moment it seemed like no one was going to train with Pyre, Sister Halcyon stepped in front of him.

“I’m sparring with you?” Pyre asked her.

“Is that a problem?”

Pyre smiled, firm and controlled. “No, Sister.”

“Good, then come this way.” She gestured toward the furthest platform.

Pyre joined her but didn’t summon his Sigil as he saw others doing around him. “I need to ask some questions first.”

“Yes?”

“Why are we being taught? Your people, those seated up there,” he said, gesturing toward the stands. “Why are they watching us?”

“Given your situation, I can see why you find this confusing, especially because the experience of the other Unclaimed is the polar opposite of yours. Let’s take Balefor as an example,” she said as she glanced over to the lion-man. He had since summoned his Sigil and was trying to land an attack on his instructor, who blocked every strike with a stone club. “In his realm, his soul hit the limit of what his realm could bear. Same with the others.”

“Meaning he couldn’t get stronger.”

“Correct. And his people knew that however real their world was, for those looking to ascend, as he has, it was merely a Domain creation stage. Here, if Balefor is successful, his soul will stabilize, he’ll further his power, achieve true Domain progression, and avoid the Hunger when it inevitably comes to his realm.”

“So he could use his power to stop the Hunger?”

She studied Pyre for a moment. “No, that has never been a goal of the pantheons, its factions, or its members.”

“Then what?” he asked, voice strained. “If they don’t want to stop a realm from being destroyed, then what?”

Behind her, Marrowsven twisted around her instructor to deliver what could have been a definitive blow, only for the instructor to sidestep it.

Urosh slammed his hammer down as he missed his opponent, bolts of lightning spraying outward.

Saejin, usually so controlled, faltered with his eye-disc, each blast skittering wide and guttering out before it cleared the platform.

Sister Halcyon’s focus never left Pyre. “You are asking what the goal of an individual pantheon is?”

“I am.”

She dismissed his question with a wave of her hand. Not far from her, Windscar’s crescent sword flashed, its translucent form holding strong as he repeatedly tried to land a strike on the tentacled attendant.

“Let’s consider that a question for another time.” A massive bell of gold and jewels mounted on a tall, ornate pole appeared in her grasp. The craftsmanship was excessive and deliberate, leaving no doubt of its sanctity. Sister Halcyon tapped its end against the platform. “Ready?”