The Boy Heaven Fears

✦ 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 most affinities.
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.

When I stepped out of the Divine Tree, its crown had erupted in seven colors that streaked across the sky—fire, water, storm, even shadow.

That was all the world saw, and all rumor ever needs.

By morning, scribes called it a “miracle of seven lights.”

Children always reenact the stories they’re told.

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.

Heaven applauds loudest when it’s afraid.

✦ The Court of Heaven Convenes ✦

The court session was held the next morning in the Hall of Radiance

Barely a day had passed since the Trial of Awakening — Heaven was still echoing with the Tree’s song when the summons arrived.

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.

Above the throne’s dais stood the Seven Archangels —

Seraphiel Lux Vael of Light

Azrael Caelion of Death’s Passage,

Mikael Aureth of War and Balance

Sariel Noxia of Fate

Uriel Thane of Flame and Courage

Remiel Vaerin of Harmony and Mercy

Yumi Tenjin of Serenity.

Their wings folded like veils of dawn, halos dimmed in solemn respect.

The Archangels watched but did not speak— for the hands that tune Heaven’s rhythm may never strike its chords.

To most of Heaven, power was protection.

To the Archons—keepers of the Crystal Heart’s rhythm—power without harmony was a fault line.

They didn’t fear what I could destroy; they feared what I might do!.

The last time Heaven skipped a heartbeat, an age ended.

Even the Archons lowered their eyes; where the Archangels stood, argument dared not breathe.

Around the golden dais, High Deities stood in solemn rings — embodiments of storms, stars, and tides, each veiled in their own divine resonance.

Even heirs of the Crown are not above the Concord Audit.

The Iron Concord stood nearby as silent witnesses; the real judgment would come later, but Heaven never waits long to measure its miracles.

When Heaven’s rhythm wavers, every soul—royal or lowborn—must answer the Heart.

Balance is law; blood is only memory.

Lesser Deities and Angels filled the balconies above, their wings folded in disciplined silence, while Seito scribes knelt along the marble floor, inscribing every word into the Crown’s archives.

And it wasn’t just them.

Legion officers stood in attendance — the Iron Concord, their silver-and-black armor gleaming cold.

“Heaven Mortals of noble descent whispered from balconies, 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.

Gold everywhere — as if fear could disguise itself as holiness.

“Under the eyes of the Seven Wings — Seraphiel, Azrael, Mikael, Sariel, Uriel, Remiel, and Yumi — the court shall proceed.”

✦ The Interrogation ✦

The whispers began.

“Most Affinities… impossible.”
“Divine light on top of it…”
“No heir should wield this much. Balance will break.”

They whisper “miracle,” but the Archons whisper another word—Fracture.

Too much resonance in one soul can turn faith into silence.

They’ve seen it before; they just never thought it would echo through the royal line.

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

“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.

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

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

“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 multiple elemental veins with divine grace, nothing more.”

Anything to explain the impossible without admitting it.

Too much light cracks faster than darkness ever could.

✦ Turned on Me ✦

“Stand, Prince Haise Tenjin, son of the Crown.”

“Perhaps the Prince 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.

“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.

“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, Archon Arval?”

The room froze.

Arval’s jaw twitched. Archons stiffened.

And Kael? Oh, Kael.

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

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

“Oh, come on. You loved those bedtime stories about beasts in the dark.”

“I was five!”

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

I bowed mock-elegant.

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

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

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

Two beats again. Wrong timing. Not now. Perfect.

✦ My Inner Commentary ✦

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

Oh, sure. Most powers 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:

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.

Some crowns are forged from silence.

✦ Lyra’s Voice ✦

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

“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. Archons 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.

But a whisper coiled at the back of my mind: One day, even her belief might not be enough.

Silence.
Sometimes I wonder if Heaven’s silence is agreement… or apology.

And somewhere, in the roots of the Divine Tree, something heard that doubt — and smiled.

✦ End of Chapter 18 — The Boy Heaven Fears ✦