Trinity of Magic

A projection shimmered to life, drawing startled gasps from all around.

David leaned forward slightly in his seat, arms resting on the carved armrests of his chair, watching as the image above the long obsidian table took form. Smoke gave way to light, light gave way to clarity. A great floating pavilion emerged within the swirling frame, ringed by clouds and sky, the flicker of distant stars glimmering just above the horizon. It was beautiful, unnaturally so. A scene drawn not from the world below, but from myth.

Yet, after the novelty of the display faded, David began to wonder. Why were they shown this fantastical sight? What was the purpose of bringing them here?

They had left the children and gathered here by the word of their lord, but he hadn’t explained anything else. Hadn’t even told them what they were going to find once they arrived.

They were in one of the northern meeting halls, its windows shuttered, the interior lit only by a few enchanted lanterns that flickered dimly in the corners. Here, amidst velvet drapes and quiet anticipation, the families of the Awakeners sat in neat rows before the conjured image. Voices that might have filled the room with idle gossip and tension now fell silent, the projection demanding reverence the way a cathedral demanded prayer.

As if in response to his doubts, the view began to narrow, revealing the interior of the mysterious pavilion in greater detail. And there, stepping through a door that looked as out of place as a dwarf at a knitting competition, came a girl with dirty blonde hair and curious blue eyes.

“Maya!” the woman beside him cried out, recognizing her daughter. She gripped her husband’s hand tightly and pointed at the projection, as if there was any chance he had missed the sight of his own child. “It is Maya, dear!”

David’s eyes narrowed.

For all his years and all his experience, seeing Maya appear in that place was something he hadn’t predicted. Until now, he had assumed the scene before them was conjured from fantasy, not a real location; certainly not one that could be reached by a girl he had left only minutes earlier.

How had his young lord made this possible?

Behind Maya came the others: Lue, Thomen, the twins, and the rest. Over two dozen curious faces stepped into this strange realm. With every new arrival, the families around him burst into cheers for their child, grandchild, sibling, or friend.

It didn’t take the children long to discover that they were not alone in this strange place.

A figure emerged from the shadows, his dark robes a stark contrast to their matching ivory robes. His crimson hair seemed to almost glow in the sparse lighting. Its color, as always, was as if it had been dipped in blood.

Who else could it be but Ezekiel von Hohenheim, the man they all served?

David’s chest rose at the sight. He had almost expected his lord had forgotten about the ceremony, unprepared to give the children the experience they deserved. However, the sight before him now was so much more than he could have ever expected.

For a moment, he even fantasized about what it would have been if his own awakening had held half this splendor, half his grandeur.

What sort of a man would he have become?

Then Ezekiel opened his mouth.

His words were biting, even harsh.

Yet they served a purpose. He was exposing the naivety that every commoner child carried into the ceremony, unaware of the reality of the world they were entering.

Their young lord didn’t spare himself, either. He spoke openly of his own ignorance during those early days.

Long-forgotten memories surfaced as the speech continued.

David had never told anybody, but he had been by the boy’s side long before Maximilian arrived. He had witnessed everything he described, had seen him endure trials no child should ever face, struggling to find a place in a world that was never meant for someone like him.

These days had been every bit as brutal as Ezekiel’s words suggested—perhaps even more so.

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the tone of the speech shifted, and a once-hidden statue of Maximilian was revealed in the distance.

Not only the children in the projection, but even the parents in the viewing hall were moved by the sight. Many had served him for most of their lives, growing so close to the man that they had entrusted their children to his care.

More than one couple rose to their feet, heads bowed in respect for their departed patron—a man who had shaped all their lives for the better.

David was among them.

His body had risen from the chair before he even realized it. The old instincts of a butler, nearly forgotten, returned like a specter from the past. His posture was perfectly rigid, his head bowed at a familiar, reverent angle.

The sight of his former master and longtime mentor nearly brought the newly minted Archmage to tears.

David remained in that position for the rest of the speech, listening to every word his new lord spoke.

Words full of respect. Full of praise. Full of reverence.

Though Ezekiel was a very different man from Maximilian, often at odds with his mentor in both method and principle, there was no doubt in David’s mind that he had deeply loved the old man, as a son loves a father.

It was one of the reasons he had supported him from the beginning, even before anyone knew what kind of man Ezekiel would become.

The speech ended to a muted, yet reverent, applause from the parents.

It had been masterfully done.

Not only had their young lord conveyed the harsh truths of the world in a way the children could grasp and internalize, but he had also left them with hope. He honored their efforts, underscored Maximilian’s vision, and inspired belief in the path ahead.

Not for the first time, David thought that his young lord would have made an excellent orator. The way he struck the perfect tone, the way the words flowed with weight and purpose—few could match it.

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As the atmosphere settled, the first child stepped up. A boy named Thomen.

David glanced to the side.

Thomen’s parents sat near the front. The father, a wiry man with the shoulders of a laborer, gripped his hat so tightly that the brim had turned white. His wife’s hands fidgeted in her lap, fingers twitching as if searching for something to anchor her. Neither spoke. Neither breathed.

David knew them well. During his years as head butler, he had butted heads more than once with that pigheaded couple.

But they were honest people. Good people. Not a lick of Magic between them, though.

The boy approached the crystal.

The projection shifted smoothly, zooming in without a sound. Thomen looked so small beneath the towering crystal, his dark curls tousled, his new robe already stained for some reason. But his posture was straight. Proud.

David smiled.

The image of the child pressing his hands to the crystal filled the center of the table. A pause. An awkward laugh as he was reminded to loosen up. A flicker.

And then, the light came.

”Intermediate Fire Affinity.”

Brilliant orange and flickering gold surged upward, dancing across the screen in spiraling arcs. Even the stains on Thomen’s robe seemed cleaner now, the grime falling away as if it didn’t have a place anymore. Gasps echoed in the viewing hall. But Thomen’s parents were beyond gasping.

They collapsed to their knees.

Not with drama, but with awe. Like pilgrims before a feast.

“Thank you,” the mother whispered, her voice cracking. “Thank you, Maximilian… thank you, Lord Ezekiel…”

Her husband nodded, forehead pressed to the carpet. “May your names be spoken in every generation…”

David looked away to give them privacy. A knot had formed in his chest, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Perhaps it was pride. Perhaps something deeper.

It had taken decades to reach this point.

Maximilian’s dream, once considered sacrilege, was now breathing life into those who had once been cast aside.

The children continued.

One by one, they stepped forward. Some timid, some bold. Some with trembling fingers, others with a confidence set to their jaws. And with each new light that surged into the air, each affinity revealed, a wave of emotion swept the room. Gasps. Cries. Laughter. Silent weeping.

David had no child of his own and shouldn’t have felt overly attached to the ceremony. But he did. That same quiet thrill. That same swelling warmth beneath his ribs.

He had seen war. Had fought for bloodlines, gold, vengeance. And yet none of it stirred him like this.

Not like what he was experiencing right now. He had been a fool to doubt his lords.

This was the future.

When the twins appeared, the mood shifted.

Even to someone who had never met these children before, it would have been immediately clear that these two were special. Tall, graceful, elegant. They were destined for greatness.

Though all the children wore identical robes, the garments looked somehow finer on them. As if they had been made for the twins, and everyone else wore mere imitations.

The girl stepped up first.

Her result came quickly: Low Time affinity.

Most families would have celebrated such a result, but the twins’ parents clearly didn’t share that sentiment. The father remained still, unmoved. The mother let out a long sigh and slowly shook her head.

Then the boy stepped forward.

The moment his perfect affinity was announced, the room erupted in noise as everyone tried to speak at once. The father clapped, loud and sharp. His wife jumped to her feet, leaning in to whisper excitedly into his ear. Their eyes gleamed, though David sensed it wasn’t only joy that lit them.

“Congratulations!” someone nearby called out. “You must be very proud.”

The father beamed. “I’ve always known my son was meant for greatness.”

The neighbor nodded eagerly. “I couldn’t agree more. Keiran is going to bring great honor to the von Hohenheim name. Two perfect affinities, now.”

The father’s smile faltered. “…That’s a possibility. Though nothing is set in stone yet.”

“What do you—” the neighbor began, but his words were cut off by the projection.

“I offer my service to House von Hohenheim and to you, Lord Ezekiel.”

The boy swore his fealty.

Gasps filled the hall again. This time, not from joy, but from shock.

The parents stood frozen. The woman’s hands dropped to her sides. The man opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, stunned.

David leaned back, just slightly. Watching.

Ezekiel rejected the boy.

The shock was even greater than when the offer of fealty had been made.

And yet Keiran persisted.

Three times he tried. Each time, turned away with that same maddening calm. Until, finally, when his sister offered herself, Ezekiel accepted her.

The mother clutched her chest in relief. The father sat down heavily, nodding. Somehow, that was acceptable.

Until Keiran tried again.

And this time, was accepted.

The room tensed like a drawn bow. All gazes turned to the couple, who now looked as though their souls had left their bodies. It didn’t take long for them to return to their senses.

“…Coercion!” the father bellowed, his face red with fury. “He must have used magic to force them into obedience! I will not stand for this!”

David’s brow furrowed. Enough was enough. He raised a single finger, and the darkness stirred.

A moment later, a presence loomed behind the couple: two figures formed from shadow, their expressions blank and unyielding.

“Watch your words, Konrad,” David said, his voice thunderous in the silence that gripped the room. “That is our lord you are speaking of. YOUR LORD. You would do well to remember that.”

The couple stiffened. They said nothing.

But their eyes... their eyes smoldered.

David held their gaze a moment longer.

Then turned back to the projection.

Inwardly, he praised Ezekiel’s decision to separate the parents from the children during the ceremony. Such an ugly scene could have ruined the entire atmosphere.

More children were stepping forward.

And the magic of the ceremony continued.

Then it was Lue’s turn. Out of the corner of his eyes, David watched her Grandfather. A small part of him was worried for the old man. A negative result, or even an excessively good one, might be more than his heart could take.

It was no secret that he didn’t have long to go.

However, David’s worries were unfounded.

“High Metal and high Mind affinity.”

There was no shock, no words, no excessive jubilation on the old man’s face. Only a quiet, doting smile joined by a single tear streaming down his face. And with it, a heavy weight seemed to have lifted from his shoulders.

Then it was Maya’s turn, the last one.

As she stepped up, it felt as though everyone was holding their breath.

Maya was well-liked, her cheerful and caring nature making her a favorite among the parents. But that wasn’t the reason for the dramatic shift in atmosphere.

Her awakening carried a different kind of weight. Though others, like Keiran, might have shown more raw potential, Maya was the younger sister of their lord—and as such, a possible heir to House von Hohenheim. In many ways, her results would affect them more than any of the children who had gone before. Perhaps even more than their own.

The atmosphere was thick with tension.

Maya stood before the crystal, her expression unreadable in the wavering light. Her hands rose slowly, hesitantly, brushing the surface with the tips of her fingers. And for a long moment, nothing happened.

David felt the breath catch in his lungs.

Then the air changed. A low thrum pulsed through the projection, like the deep heartbeat of the earth itself. And then came the light.

Green and gold, twisting together in arcs like ivy climbing toward the sun, surged upward in twin streams. They weren’t showy, not like Keiran’s, but there was a gentleness to them. A dignity. A quiet power that spoke not of conquest, but of strength rooted deep.

”Greater Life and Nature Affinity,” Ezekiel’s voice rang out, rich with pride.

The viewing hall erupted.

Mia wept openly, her sobs muffled by the hand over her mouth. Geralt clutched her hand in both of his, tears glistening in his eyes but not falling. Around them, others began to applaud, some even rising to their feet.

David let out a slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

He watched as Maya stumbled forward and fell into her brother’s arms. Ezekiel held her like something precious, his hand resting on the back of her head as if sheltering a flame from the wind.

David knew better than most what that embrace meant.

There was no need for fealty. No oaths. She belonged already.

The scene in the projection dimmed as the children began to leave the platform, the magic slowly fading.

No words were spoken in the hall. Only the soft creak of chairs, the occasional cough, and the rustle of fabric as families sat, stunned or satisfied. The ceremony was over, but the echo of what had just occurred lingered.

David rose. He had planned to leave the mansion right after the ceremony, but now he felt he couldn’t. Not right away, at least.

First, he would find his lord and have words with them one more time.