The Initiation was supposed to be a celebration. Held on the day of the summer solstice, it marked the coming of age for the eldest rank of warrior-trainees each year. They'd be acknowledged as adults, made soldiers, shieldmaidens, or – for the rare few that undertook and passed the Rite – Titans. But the preparations for the Rite were more akin to those of a funeral rather than a Feast, likely because that was how the Rite usually ended: with a bunch of body parts that were barely recognisable, tossed unceremoniously into a grave that had been preemptively dug.

If the Claimant survived but was maimed, then there was a good chance their future as a soldier was lost. In the eyes of the Seren, a clan member who could not fight, or was deemed too weak to be able to, might as well be dead, as stripped from the Warrior caste and thrown into the ranks of the helots, where they were forgotten and forced to serve.

Of course, there were exceptions. Thearris Ulfredschild was one of them. He'd lost his arm and his eye during his Rite, but could still best most of the soldiers and shieldmaidens in the village without them. If anything, his brush with death had made him even more ferocious. He'd emerged from his battle victorious, taken the title of a Titan, and been gifted with a warhammer engraved with the head of a lion. A gift he had put to good use when the previous Tyrant of Soldiers had withered and the soldiers, shieldmaidens and Titans had vied to take his place, permanently dispersing any doubts about his capability when he claimed the mantle as his own.

His son, Regis, on the other hand, was an anomaly. Unlike the weak and the crippled in the ranks of the helots, Regis was perfectly able in body and soul, more than willing to beat his fellow Seren bloody when provoked, and as far as anyone knew, he had yet to suffer defeat. Yet, he had voluntarily withdrawn from his Initiation to assume the lesser duties of the Clan Mothers when Aramir was born. Such a thing was unheard of – particularly amongst the men.

It had been a sacrifice, and Aramir knew it. But Thearris's path was the one that the youth sought to follow – hopefully with one more arm and eye than his grandfather had ended up with by the end of it. He was determined to do what his father could not. He would live up to the expectations of his grandfather and the Clan and prove that the blood he had inherited was not that of a coward, but a warrior.

But even on the day of the Initiation, his father still did not approve of him undertaking the Rite.

Regis was pacing an endless circle around the candle-lit Chamber of Vigil, deep in the depths of the Temple of Aeon, where he, Aramir and Eliah, would keep watch until dawn, as was tradition for the families of those who underwent the Rite. A dark expression clouded his face as he watched Aramir kneel in the centre of the room and attempt to etch the intricate design worn by Taiten onto his skin with the aeonite-infused warpaint worn by the Titans.

Regis sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. He'd spent more than half his life raising Aramir, trying to make sure the boy wouldn't blindly follow the Teachings like his mother and his grandfather had before him.

Somewhere, somehow, something had gone wrong.

Eliah fidgeted as she sat next to Aramir and watched her foster-father make his tenth round of the room. His anxiety was catching. 'Um... Regis? Maybe you should meditate.'

'I'll meditate when the vigil begins,' he snapped.

The girl flinched and shrank back. 'Okay...'

A sheepish look spread across Regis's face. He sighed. 'My apologies, Eliah. I don't mean to take my frustrations out on you. They're meant for him.' He glowered at his son instead. 'It's not too late to withdraw, Aramir.'

Aramir rolled his eyes. 'You're worrying too much, Da.'

'I'm worrying just the right amount, thank you! Unlike you, boy, I've seen what Fal'mor do to people. You think Thearris lost his arm and his eye to the Fal'mor? No, he did not! He cut off his own arm and yanked out his own eye to prevent the spread of blackblood. If he hadn't, he would have disintegrated from the inside out. And I had to sit there and watch all of this happen! You think I want that happening to you? You think your sister wants to watch that happen to you?'

Eliah froze as Aramir looked over at her, a flash of guilt on his face. Clearly he hadn't thought of that. 'Eli?' he said softly.

She shot Regis a look that showed him exactly what she thought of being dragged into the argument, and then dropped her eyes to the floor to avoid her foster-brother's gaze. 'You've done the runes on your hands wrong,' she muttered.

'Have I?'

'Mhmm.' Untying one of her arm wraps, Eliah held up the back of her hand for him to see. 'See. There should be two circles, and the arrows in the middle should – '

'Oh, yes, I see...'

Ignored, Regis threw his hands up in the air and went back to circling the room, leaving a tide of angry mutterings about children who didn't want to listen to their father's good advice in his wake.

Despite that, he couldn't help but take pride in how seriously his son was taking Eliah's corrections. Most Seren who attempted the Rite – and those who miraculously managed to become Titans after it – just smeared the paint on without any concern for accuracy, forgetting that the whole purpose of wearing it was to share in the Divine protection Taiten had received from the Goddess when she'd blessed him with his marks.

Aramir may have been blind to the truth, but at least he was far from lazy.

If it weren't for the fact that the only image the Clan had of Taiten was the statue beside the Gate, he would likely have been more careful. Few people knew what Aeon's Blessing looked like by heart, and if Eliah hadn't said something, neither Regis nor Aramir would have noticed the discrepancies.

Of course, if they looked hard enough, they would have found the sigil elsewhere in the temple, but most Seren would never think to look. Those that did were too afraid of disturbing the Goddess's House – and with good reason too.

Regis had learned that lesson the hard way.

Shaking the thought aside, the thirty-five-year-old let his eyes wander until they came to a rest on his daughter. Eliah had uncovered both of her arms, using them as a reference to ensure that every line of paint on Aramir's skin was perfect.

She caught his eye. 'Regis?' she said tentatively.

'Yes?'

'If I show you the sigil on my back, can you paint it on Aramir for me?'

The petulant phrase'Do I have to?' came to mind, but Regis swallowed it and sighed. 'Very well.'

Regis sat down behind Aramir and Eliah turned away. Glowing blue metal blazed as she pulled her tunic over her head, and a shiver ran down her spine as her exposed skin met with the cold night air. Dipping his finger into the paint, Regis did his best to copy the design.

'Thank you,' muttered Aramir.

'It's Eliah's idea, not mine,' said Regis flatly. 'I can't say I agree with you recklessly fighting a Fal'mor when you've never seen one before, but with any luck, these runes will offer you some sort of protection.'

He knew that they certainly afforded Eliah some, even if she wasn't aware of it. Unlike Aramir, the girl had been very fussy as a babe, prone to tantrums and getting into trouble, always rolling or crawling away and climbing on things that she wasn't supposed to.

When she was just a little toddling thing, Regis had once found her atop the tall rock on the edge of the village centre that she liked to stand on during Clan gatherings now. How she'd gotten herself up there, he didn't quite know, but as he'd climbed up to get her, she'd caught sight of something in the sky – and rolled backwards off the edge. Regis had almost thrown himself off after her in panic. But instead of a smashed bundle of tiny bones and flesh on the ground, he'd found Eliah floating on a shimmering bed of aeonite dust, giggling at the stupefied look on his face as he stared down at her from the rock.

Sweat gathered on Regis's brow at the memory. That was the first time he'd seen her use magic.

Truth be told, the girl was probably capable of placing the design on her brother without even touching the paint. It had aeonite dust in it, and Eliah could shape the stuff in her sleep, even if she didn't know it. The glowing manifestations that had come to life when she dreamed had been very vivid and very real – especially when the girl had nightmares. Regis couldn't count the number of times he'd woken up to the sound of young Aramir wrestling with a glowing blue bear, wolf, or other nameless monster in the middle of the night.

Luckily, the boy always came out unscathed, and practising meditation had stopped the accidental magic displays in their tracks.

Aramir had been disappointed. He'd enjoyed the midnight monster attacks. 'Let her sleep, Da!' he'd say when Regis went to wake Eliah from her dreams. 'I'm training!'

Regis frowned as he completed the rune circle. In hindsight, that reckless enthusiasm for battle should have been the first sign that his son was on the path to becoming a Titan. He let out a heavy sigh.

Resigned, he clapped Aramir on the shoulder. 'All done, my boy. May the Goddess see this sign and protect you with her blessing while you endure your Rite.'

Aramir looked over at him and swallowed, suddenly unable to word his thanks. But even if it wasn't expressed, Regis understood. He gave his son's shoulder a squeeze.

Shivering in the late night cold, Eliah let out a sneeze. She pulled her tunic back over her back, crossed her legs, and did her arm wraps back up as she turned to face the rest of her family. 'Have you two made up now?' she asked.

Regis chuckled and withdrew his hand. 'Yes, Eliah, I think we have.'

'So now do we meditate?'

'Yes. Now we meditate.'

She sighed in relief. 'Good. Listening to you two argue was making me nervous. I'd like to get that under control.'

The two men exchanged glances and then looked back at her, brows raised in identical expressions of bemusement.

'Are you chastising us?' asked Regis.

'I'm the one who should be nervous, you know,' said Aramir with a laugh.

Eliah pouted and ignored them both. Closing her eyes, she sat up straight and rested her hands on her knees, palms up. 'Breathe in for four, hold for four, and out for four,' she said, as if she were instructing.

Aramir grinned and copied her posture. 'Yes, Mistress Shieldmaiden.' He glanced sideways at his father. 'When did Eli take over as the meditation expert, Da?'

'Probably when she learned how to sleep sitting up.'

Eliah frowned and cracked an eye open. 'That's a skill, you know.'

'And a fine one at that,' agreed Regis, suppressing a smile. Adjusting his pose, he closed his eyes. 'Now close your eyes. Clear your minds. On my count...'

As one unit, the three of them breathed.

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Midnight monster attacks: ft. Aramir and a very tired Papa Regis.

Little Eli waking up the next morning

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All content and illustrations ©Jax L. P. (@JaxCreation) on 𝑾𝒂𝒕𝒕𝒑𝒂𝒅. All rights reserved. Please contact the author if you are reading this on another site or under a different account name.