Aftershocks of Power

The Mask vs. The Spark

That night, I stood alone on a balcony high above Heaven.

Behind me, the feast still roared. Below me, towers of light pierced the night. Silver rivers carved the city. Sky-carriages streaked fire across the clouds.

I leaned on the railing and exhaled like I’d been holding my breath all day.

The mask slipped. The perfect smile cracked. My shoulders sagged.

I pressed my palm to my chest.

There it was.

The ember. Violet-gold. Alive. A heartbeat that wasn’t mine.

The world thought I carried six elements and a crown of light:

Red — Fire

Blue — Water 

Green — Wind

Brown — Earth

White — Lightning

Silver-blue — Ice 

And the silver-gold halo of Divine Light

The miracle heir.

But the truth? That was only half.

The cosmic spark throbbed inside me, wild and waiting.

I laughed bitterly, tilting my head back.

“Chosen… or just really bad at dying?”

The ember pulsed, rattling my ribs.

“Not funny,” I whispered, smirking anyway. “You’re not going to stay quiet forever, are you?”

It didn’t answer. But I felt it — patient. Watching.

Tomorrow I’d wear the mask again. The perfect heir. The miracle.

But tonight, under Heaven’s sky, I admitted it:

I didn’t know if this was salvation… or a curse wrapped in gold.

The Witness

Silence ruled the empty arena.

The Divine Tree stood alone, golden bark whispering faint light, leaves rustling like they remembered what no one else had seen.

All six elemental colors and the divine glow still shimmered faintly in its canopy.

Then — one leaf stirred.

Not red. Not blue. Not green. Not brown. Not white. Not silver-blue. Not gold.

But violet-black. Fractals of starlight shimmered through its veins.

The glow lasted only a heartbeat. Then it faded.

And someone saw.

A figure lingered in the shadows of the arena wall. Still. Watching. Their breath caught at the impossible glow.

The world believed the heir carried seven blessings.

But this witness — whoever they were — suspected the truth.

The heir carried more.

The Weight of Applause

The celebration hadn’t even cooled, yet the air in Heaven already felt different.

Everywhere I walked, whispers followed. Every gaze lingered a little too long.

The heir with six elements.
The boy crowned with divine light.
The miracle nobody asked for.

I should’ve been proud, right? Instead, my shoulders felt heavier than the Divine Tree itself.

In the streets, kids mimicked me — pretending to conjure fire from one hand and ice from the other, or clapping their hands and shouting “Lightning!” until their parents yanked them away.

Priests blessed the ground I walked on. Soldiers pounded their fists to their chests, bowing as if I were already crowned.

And yet… when I looked up at the balconies where the ministers perched?

Their smiles didn’t reach their eyes. Their lips curled like they’d bitten into rotten fruit.

Ministers’ Whispers

The court session was held the next morning in the Hall of Radiance — a place so gold-plated it looked like Heaven had robbed the sun.

Inside, the world was watching.

My father sat at the center throne, storm-quiet as always. My mother at his side, silver hair like a banner of calm. Ministers in jeweled robes lined the hall, whispering like snakes in tall grass.

And it wasn’t just them.

Legion officers stood in attendance — the Iron Concord, their silver-and-black armor gleaming cold. Nobles of the Mortal Veil whispered from balconies. Heaven Mortals filled the upper tiers, wide-eyed, clutching their prayer beads.

All gathered. All staring.
And me? I stood off to the side, the prize horse they were about to parade.

The Interrogation

The whispers began.

“All six elements… impossible.”
“Divine light on top of it…”
“No heir should wield everything. Balance will break.”

Minister Arval, of course, didn’t whisper. His voice cut through the chamber like a blade.

Arval: “Your Majesty, we must ask — how is it possible the Divine Tree granted such excess to one child?”

He looked at me like I wasn’t human. Just an equation that didn’t balance.

Father’s gaze flicked to him — cold lightning.

Tenjin: “Are you questioning the Divine Tree’s will?”

A ripple of tension spread. Ministers shifted, throats cleared. Arval bowed slightly, lips twitching as if swallowing a grin.

Arval: “Of course not, Majesty. I merely ask… can Heaven withstand such concentrated power in one heir?”

Translation: This boy is dangerous. Do we cage him now, or wait until he explodes?

And in the balconies, the scholars were already scribbling notes — fumbling for rationalizations.

“Resonance.”
“Overlap.”
“A rare convergence of all six elemental veins with divine grace, nothing more.”

Anything to explain the impossible without admitting it.

Turned on Me

Then one of them asked me directly.

Minister: “Perhaps the boy himself can explain. What trial did you face in the Tree, Heir? What did you see that blessed you so?”

Every gaze snapped toward me. Insect. Glass. Pin.

I smiled. Wide. Polished. Dangerous.

Me: “What happened inside?” I tilted my head. “Illusions. Shadows. Nothing fancy.”

I tapped my chin, drawing it out, just to watch them squirm.

Then I dropped the dagger.

Me: “At one point, I faced phantom beasts. Funny, right? Because that’s the same fear Kael and I shared as kids. Isn’t that right, Minister Arval?”

The room froze.

Arval’s jaw twitched. Ministers stiffened.

And Kael? Oh, Kael.

His eyes widened, then he shot me a look that could’ve burned the hall down.

Kael: “You—! Don’t drag me into your comedy act, Haise.”

Me, grinning like a wolf in silk: “Oh, come on. You loved those bedtime stories about beasts in the dark.”

Kael: “I was five!”

A ripple of laughter cracked the tension. Even Lyra hid a giggle behind her hand.

I bowed mock-elegant.

Me: “See? Just ordinary fears. Ordinary illusions. Nothing suspicious at all. Unless, of course, you think phantom beasts conspired to crown me miracle heir.”

Some ministers shifted, embarrassed. Others scowled. But suspicion slid off me — for now.

Arval’s glare, though? Sharp enough to draw blood.

Perfect.

My Inner Commentary

I stood there, smiling politely, but inside? My brain was throwing furniture.

Oh, sure. Six elements plus divine light means I’m suddenly a ticking bomb. Not a miracle. Not hope. Nope — just a walking apocalypse waiting to happen.

Part of me wanted to shout:

Me (inside voice): “Hey, geniuses! I didn’t exactly choose this. The Tree stuffed it into me like leftover festival food, so maybe blame the oversized magic plant instead?”

But I kept the sarcasm locked behind my teeth. Smiling is safer.

Lyra’s Voice

And then—quietly, softer than the ministers’ whispers—Lyra spoke.

Lyra: “If the Tree chose him… then I believe in him.”

Her eyes found mine, steady, unwavering, shining with something warmer than faith.

The chamber stilled. Ministers frowned, Arval’s jaw twitched, but I couldn’t look away.

Because in that moment, I knew—her belief wasn’t about the Tree.
It was about me.

End of Chapter 8