Being kept up by Kai's ominous warning didn't erase the realization that today is my birthday. In this world, coming of age was often marked by a grand celebration, a public acknowledgment of one's transition into adulthood. But for me? I had no grand celebration, no invitations from important figures, no lavish gifts to unwrap. It wasn't that I minded—I had never been one for attention. But as the day crept closer, something shifted within me. A strange energy seemed to build inside, as though my body and soul were preparing for something I could not understand.
In the days leading up to my birthday, I felt the pull of my powers growing stronger. The connection with the spirit beast egg intensified, and I could no longer ignore the fact that something monumental was approaching. I didn't know what to expect, but deep down, I knew it would change everything.
I woke on the morning of my 18th birthday with an odd sense of awareness. The world outside my window seemed sharper, more defined, as though I could see and feel the vibrations of every living thing. The breeze that swept through the trees, the rustling of the leaves, even the distant voices of students in the courtyard—they all felt... closer, as if I could reach out and touch them with nothing but my mind.
There was a shift in the air, a strange weight hanging over everything. I couldn't place it, but I knew that today was no ordinary day.
My roommates, Aerin, Mira, and Caius, greeted me with smiles as they entered our shared dormitory room, carrying a small cake with a flickering candle. A simple gesture, but it was enough to bring warmth to my heart.
"Happy birthday, Sky!" Mira said, her eyes sparkling. "Eighteen already! You've officially entered adulthood!"
Caius, ever the more quiet and reserved one, gave a rare smile and nodded in approval. "You've come a long way since the first day. Here's to more strength, wisdom, and growth ahead."
Aerin beamed, her mischievous grin always present. "You should have told us, Sky. We would have gotten you something better than this little cake."
I smiled, the warmth of their words filling me. It was a quiet celebration, but it felt like everything I needed. In truth, I had not expected much from the day. A part of me still believed that the path ahead would be filled with isolation and challenge. But they made it feel special, something I would remember.
We sat together, eating the cake and chatting. They asked about my upcoming alchemy lessons and if I had made any new discoveries. The conversation flowed easily, but in the back of my mind, something was stirring—a growing pulse, deep within me.
As the day went on, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. That something big, something I couldn't control, was awakening inside me. I felt the pressure building, like the air just before a storm, thick and expectant.
That afternoon, as I wandered the campus, I found myself drawn toward the library, though I couldn't explain why. The cool, stone walls of the building were familiar, comforting. I passed the familiar shelves of books, the flickering lights overhead, and reached the section I had visited many times before—the third floor, where the alchemy texts rested.
My thoughts were a whirlwind, and as I glanced over the titles on the shelves, I couldn't focus on a single one. It was as though the books were simply distractions, pieces of knowledge I had outgrown. My thoughts were scattered, but at the same time, strangely focused. It was the Vermilion Bird egg, the Codex, and... something else. Something primal within me was calling out, pulling at me to reach deeper, to awaken something I hadn't yet discovered.
Then it happened.
As I stood in the center of the alchemy section, my eyes glazed over, a quiet, almost imperceptible pulse hummed in the air. The sensation crept through my veins like wildfire, spreading outward, down to my fingertips, until I felt it in every inch of my body. The world around me seemed to shift—light became more vivid, shadows stretched deeper, and the very essence of life seemed to vibrate in the air.
I reached out instinctively, my hands trembling as I touched one of the books on the shelf. The moment my fingers made contact, the world around me snapped into sharp focus. I saw it—the aura of the book itself. I could feel its presence, the flow of energy, the essence of the knowledge it contained. And then, as I pulled my hand away, the energy shifted. I could see it now, all around me: the faint auras of the students and faculty passing by, their emotions radiating from them like waves on the surface of a pond.
The sensation was overwhelming.
I could see the emotions of everyone around me—fear, anger, joy, and confusion—each aura a vibrant, shifting color that told the story of their hearts. The physical world blurred at the edges, but their emotions were crystal clear. It was as if the essence of their souls was laid bare for me to read, and I could feel their intentions, their desires, their worries, all of it washing over me like a tidal wave.
I staggered back, my heart racing. This was no simple sensitivity to the world around me. This was something more—a divine ability to see into the hearts and souls of those around me.
Empathy. But on a god-like level.
I gasped as the realization hit me: this was the Divine Sense, a power spoken of only in whispers among the ancient texts. A gift that allowed those who possessed it to perceive the true essence of others—their emotions, their intentions, their desires. It was said to be a gift only given to gods, a rare ability that allowed them to understand the deepest truths of existence.
But I was no god.
Yet here I was, standing in the middle of the library, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of this new ability. I could feel everything around me—every flicker of emotion, every pulse of intent.
And that's when I saw it—Kai Xu's aura.
He stood at the far end of the aisle, his back turned to me as he scanned the shelves. His aura was dark, swirling with confusion and an unmistakable sense of isolation. But beneath that, hidden in the depths of his emotions, was something else—a deep, gnawing sadness, like a well of pain he couldn't escape.
Before I could fully process what I was seeing, his head turned, and our eyes locked. His expression hardened, but there was a flicker of something else—something unspoken, as if he had sensed the change in me, too.
I quickly tore my gaze away, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. The weight of his emotions still lingered in the back of my mind.
I had to understand what was happening to me, why I had been granted this power. The Divine Sense was too much, too overwhelming to control. And worse, it felt like the more I used it, the more I could sense others watching me, studying me.
I had to learn how to harness it—how to keep my own aura in check before others could see through me as easily as I saw through them. Because one thing was certain: this power was going to change everything.