The Festival of Ascension

Avenue of Crowns

Lanterns drifted like tame stars above the Avenue of Crowns.

Not paper, not wax — woven light, folded from Ryvane-ink that glowed in the colors of each writer’s soul.

Every lantern carried the name of a soul who’d ascended a stage — Heaven’s way of teaching hope through memory.

Wishes shimmered across their surfaces: prayers for courage, for mothers’ health, for training marks, for a crush to notice.

Vendors cracked sugar over cloudcakes, children tugged Ryvane-kites that bit the sky with sparks, and Chorus Sanctum choristers stitched silver notes through the air.

Above it all, waterfalls climbed into the heavens as if gravity were only a rumor.

Heralds parted the street. Aegis wardens on each side, Pennants bowed.

And I walked - six years old, White and silver. The Queen’s hand in mine, the God King a measured step behind.

Not thunder. Not lightning. Just steps.

Whispers followed, soft and reverent:

“The Prince walks among us.”
“Blessings upon the God King’s son.”

I bowed to an elder, posture exact, and accepted a ribbon from a little girl with both hands.

Me (inner): Royal mode. Smile without teeth. Walk without tripping. Be a promise with legs.

The girl squinted. “Are you heavy?”

I crouched low, whispered solemnly, “Only when I’m thinking.”

She nodded as if I’d just explained the universe.

The Royal Line

Queen Yumi (inner): His hand is still small in mine. May the realm see grace, not weight.

She pressed her fingers gently against my palm. I didn’t look up. I didn’t need to.

God King Tenjin (inner): The city holds its breath. Good. Remember the center.

He inclined his head a single degree.

The banners snapped as if obeying.

Even the light above seemed to pause — the Crystal Heart syncing its pulse to the King’s breath, the realm holding rhythm with him.

We paused at the Gate of Dawn — a shrine carved into crystal and firelight.

It wasn’t for us. Not for the crowd.

It was for the First God King — the one who split shadow from light and hammered Heaven out of fracture.

Every reign, every heir, stopped here. Not in worship. In remembrance.

Mother tied the child’s wish ribbon to the lantern, hands steady as stone.

She guided mine to knot the next.

Me (inner): One knot for them. None for me. The sky can wait.

From behind, Father inclined his head once. Even mountains bow to their foundations.

Streetlight

Lyra Arval (inner): He bows too carefully.

Too much crown, not enough boy.

But when he thanks people, it’s warm. Real.

The wind teased her cloudcake, nearly stealing the sugar.

She laughed and shielded it close.

Kael Arval (inner): Flawless stance. Flawless steps. If I can’t beat perfection, I’ll become it.

A nearby Seito murmured:

“He doesn’t even look nervous.”
“That’s why he’s the Prince.”

“Your braids look excellent,” I told a boy in festival ribbons.

He saluted the wrong way. I mirrored it — wrong, deliberately. His grin could’ve lit a tower.

Me (inner): Let them think I was born knowing this. Truth? I wasn’t.

Stalls & Small Things

We stopped by a dumpling cart.

“Two, please,” I said. Bit too fast. Burned my tongue. Didn’t flinch.

Lyra (teasing): “Brave. Or reckless.”

She split her cloudcake in half and shoved the bigger piece into my hand.

“For valor.”

Me (dry): “A strategic crumb, then.”

I ate it anyway. A crumb stuck to my lip.

Kael (flat): “You have a crumb.”
Me: “Exactly. Strategy.”

Kael (inner): He jokes. I train.

Lyra (inner): He jokes… so he doesn’t bruise out loud.

Nearby, a Sentinel of Flame showed a child a practice stance. I drifted behind and matched it.

Kid (whisper): “Feet closer.”
Me (solemn): “Noted.”

I adjusted. The sentinel blinked like I’d swallowed his pride whole.

Showcase Duel

The warded ring flared amber. Floating letters read:

BLUNT WOODEN BLADES • NO RYVANE • FIRST TOUCH WINS

Announcer: “Exhibition bout! Kael Arval versus Lyra Arval!”

Kael strode in like a diagram — guard sharp, breath perfect.

Lyra bounced light, eyes bright with mischief.

Tap—tap—tap. His parry textbook. Her feints airy.

Point, Kael. Point, Lyra.
Third clash → both touched. Amber flare.

Referee (grinning): “Draw!”

Children cheered like kingdoms had risen. Petal confetti spiraled overhead.

I clapped once. Proper tempo. Exact angle.

Whisper (reverent): “The Prince applauded them—did you see?”

Me (inner): Again.
Didn’t say it out loud. Crowns prefer moderation.

Kael (inner): He saw. Good.
Lyra (inner): He watched me first. …don’t be obvious. Breathe.

Montage

Ring-toss: Kael lost to a boy half his height.

The boy whooped. Kael nodded, rigid.

Kael (inner): Control. Even in losing.

Lantern blessing: A girl asked me to touch her lantern.

My palm brushed glass. It glowed brighter. She hugged it like hope.

Whisper: “The Prince ties our wishes.”

Me (inner): If the light is kinder because of me, let it be true.

Music corner: a few Seito played flutes off-key.

Lyra clapped anyway. I nodded once.

They nearly ascended on the spot.

Random Seito (inner): He noticed me. I have to be better.

Balcony:  Archon Arval Nyx watched from shade.

His gaze warmed one degree when Kael bowed perfectly; cooled one when Lyra laughed too freely.

Arval (inner): Steel holds shape. Spring bends. The realm will need both.

He looked once at me, sharp as glass — a blade that refuses to bend.

A Public Family

On the Lantern Bridge, the Queen tied the first ribbon. Her hands steady as temples.

“May these carry our fears to gentler skies,” she said.

She guided my fingers to knot the second.

My father set his palm atop both, and the air steadied, obedient.

I bowed. The crowd bowed deeper.

Me (inner): Armor can be silk. Sometimes it is.

Fireworks at the Crystal Heart

Starforge flowers cracked open above the Crystal Heart, silent for a breath, then singing like struck crystal.

Their reflections spilled across the rivers of light.

Lyra (inner): When he smiles at fireworks, it reaches his eyes.

For a moment, Heaven looked human. Light, laughter, and lies — all glowing the same.

Me (inner):

Funny. All those lifetimes of fear, and I never learned how to just… be happy.

I used to think living was punishment — a cycle I couldn’t escape, a breath I never asked to take.

I wanted it to stop. I wanted me to stop.

I never thought I’d laugh again.

Not after the rain. Not after the end.

All my life, I only ever wanted one thing — for it to stop hurting. To stop waking up. To stop being.

But standing here — this warmth, these lights, these strangers calling my name —

it doesn’t feel like Heaven’s ceremony anymore.

It feels like life finally letting me borrow a heartbeat.

This light — this noise — this stupid, imperfect joy — it’s alive, and so am I.

Maybe Heaven isn’t a reward.

Maybe it’s a second chance I didn’t think I deserved.

Maybe this time, I won’t throw it away.

Maybe this time, I’ll keep breathing.

Because for the first time since rain and headlights and goodbye —

I think I’ve found something worth staying for.

Kael (inner): Don’t falter. He never does.

Queen (inner): Still my boy beneath all this gold.

God King (inner): The realm watches. So do I.

High on a roofline, a plain-clothed figure shifted one pace, then melted into shadow.

Anonymous thought (the watcher): “Clear. Continue.”

Me (inner): Let the city have its light. Tonight, I can stand still.

Last Whisper

As the final cascade dimmed, one voice threaded the silence —
more prayer than rumor:

“Long live the Prince.”

Lanterns climbed. In a tower’s glass pane, my reflection lingered, crowned by firework halos not my own.

I didn’t bow to it. I didn’t flinch.

But the reflection smiled anyway — as if it knew someday, I would.

End of Chapter 5 — The Festival of Ascension

The Light Can Remember Joy