Ril threaded his way in between the legs of the parents. Smoothly passing between legs and under arms he made it to the front. There he saw a dozen children nervously making their way east across the grand boulevard. Each child was dressed in their finest clothes. Or what would constitute the finest clothes for each child. The range of quality that was displayed was vast. Leading the charge of children was Godric Glotsk wearing enough rich fabric to feed the entire populace for at least a year. His hands were adorned with gold rings and on his head sat a flouncy hat which bounced with every step the young nobleman took.

Behind Godric walked Gom and Sonith. Gom was fat. Regardless of the look of pride on his face, he looked more like a rolling potato wrapped in silk then the nobleman that he was. Sonith on the other hand was thin, with a sharp face that resembled a weasel. Both Gom and Sonith were children of minor nobles that controlled the land surrounding Elkshire. They had sent their children here to support Godric precisely one year ago. It was well known that all three young nobles would begin their journey to the capital once this ceremony was completed in order to begin their training at the Academy.

Behind the three strutting noblemen walked the rest of the children who were to be coming of age this year. Nine in total, these children did not walk with nearly as much confidence, yet they showed in subtle ways how proud they were to be joining the adult community here at Elkshire. Rose, the daughter of the local butcher, was beaming at everyone and everything. Her slightly faded red dress swishing every time her hands passed by. Hilbert, whose family had been lumberjacks for as long as anyone could remember, couldn’t seem to make up his mind if he was allowed to show his happiness, as his face alternated between dour solemnity and a shit-eating grin.

The rest of the children were similarly inclined. Yet a pattern emerged. The children seemed to be ordered by their families wealth. Near the front Godric displayed his father’s wealth with arrogant abandon while the further back ones eye traveled the cheaper, and more frayed the festival clothes became.

Ril stepped out from the sideline, with a broad smile Ril took two rapid steps and joined the back of the procession of children. Arthur, the child that previously possessed the honor of last in line, turned his head and frowned at Ril. Turning quickly back to look forward, Arthur did a little hop skip getting just a little closer to the other children, and further away from Ril. Ril’s wide grin faded slightly, before a determined look crossed the young orphan’s face and the smile returned with full force.

“May the ceremony begin!”, shouted a voice.

Ril looked up, noticing that the rest of the children had stopped. Stopping behind Arthur, Ril focused on the speaker who had captured everyone’s attention. The speaker was an elderly man wearing a white robe stylized with gold filigree, who Ril recognized as Bishop Antonius. He was the holy man who ran the local church, and he despised orphans like Ril.

“As you all know today is a wondrous day!”, the bishop declared, “Seventeen years ago to the day the Chromagnum fell from the heavens and struck our land. The Great Calamity devastated much of our land, spawning endless waves of horrors that desire nothing but the destruction of all that is good and holy!”

Bishop Antonius was gesticulating wildly, a zealotic fervor burning in his eyes.

“The armies of King Magnus stood firmly against this rising tide. Bravely fighting to protect the innocents that the monsters from the abyss would liberate from us! It was then that King Magnus, in all his wisdom, spoke to the Chromagnum in his dream. The Chromagnum was testing us! It had provided us with all the tools to not only survive the oncoming horde. But to thrive despite the hordes' revolting presence!”

Suddenly, the bishop calmed. His hands resting gently on the dark walnut pew that rested in front of him. Ril took that moment to glance around. The stage that the bishop was standing on was constructed out of rough hewn lumber, with a painted facade to cover up its cheap construction. A red carpet lay on the stage leading from one end of the stage to the other, beginning and ending in a set of three stairs. Behind the bishop stood an attendant, also wearing white but with significantly less golden filigree, with a hand placed on a closed box laying demurely on an elegantly carved stand. Wooden hands were carved into the wood looking as if hundreds of hands were supporting the closed box.

“The dust my friends. The dust is the gift that the Chromagnum left us. It is the tool that we will use to send the vile abominations back from whence they came.” spoke the bishop. This time more quietly, but with just as much ardent fervor.

“King Magnus sent for the greatest of smiths, and these masters of smoke and steel collected the dust and sintered the essence of the Chromagnum into these divine spheres!” With a flourish the bishop directed the crowd's attention to his attendant, who promptly lifted the lid of the mysterious box, revealing a dozen perfectly round silver spheres. The spheres were mirror bright, not so dissimilar to Ril’s hair should it be washed properly.

The crowd oohed and clapped, as the attendant lifted the box containing the divine spheres above his head for all to see, before returning it back to its perch on the grasping hands.

“Today is a day of remembrance, but also of great joy! For precisely on the day that the Chromagnum began its test, we arm our children for the coming fight! Come Godric, ascend the stage and receive your gift from the Chromagnum.”

Godric smirked as he moved out from the crowd of children and climbed the stairs to meet the Bishop. With a kindly smile the bishop took one of the divine spheres and gently placed it right above the sternum of Godric.

Godric gasped, putting his hand up as the metal sphere seemed to melt through the rich silk and into the flesh underneath. With a pained expression Godric straitened up, and smiled at the crowd.

“Another ascends!” Cried the bishop holding up Godric’s hand like he had just won a fight in a brawlers pit.

“Impressive pain tolerance” Ril heard a voice from the crowd mutter. Ril glanced over but could not identify the source through the cheering mass of people.

The bishop ushered Godric off to the right and beckoned for Gom to join him. However, when the sphere melted through the cloth that adorned his heavy frame, Gom yelped in pain and collapsed, only remaining upright through the firm hand of the bishop and his attendant. Once Gom had recovered the attendant led him over to where Godric was smiling smugly.

And so the ceremony continued as the bishop called up each child and bestowed upon them the gift of the Chromagnum. The children grew more and more nervous as it became obvious that the “ascension” process was not pleasant in the least. Hilbert looked positively green in the gills as he nervously climbed the platform.

Ril stood impatiently waiting for his turn to receive the gift, and join the other children his age. However when it came to be his turn, the bishop paused, looking at Ril like he was a rat. Then the bishop seemed to shrug, smiling faintly as he turned to the crowd.

“All the children have now joined our ra--”

“What about me!” cried Ril, taking a few steps forward and raising his hands indignantly.

The bishop, annoyed at the interruption, looked back down at Ril with a heavy frown disfiguring his fatherly visage.

“A cursed child asks for the blessing of the Chromagnum!” The bishop turned to the crowd and shouted. “Do we heed this request from one who will not be able to control the power?”

“I’m not weak!” Ril shouted back up at the bishop, nearly getting overpowered by the voice of the crowd as they agreed with the bishop.

“Not weak?” asked the bishop. “Look at his hair, my people. Do you see how it shines? How this child was not able to overcome the Chromagnum’s poison and rise above to claim the power that He offers? Look at the other children, you will not see the mark of the Chromagnum on them!”

Ril looked at the other children standing in a row on the stage. The bishop was right, from black to blonde none of the other children had hair quite as bright as Ril himself.

“Get out of my sight cursed child”, said the bishop quietly.

Ril looked around, seeing the angry faces of those in the crowd. The determined look on Ril’s face that had replaced the anger and indignation from a moment ago faded away when he saw the smug look that graced Godric’s mug. Without another word, Ril raced past the gathering of adults and into the streets beyond. Only once the noise of the crowd had faded did Ril allow himself to fall to the street and let the tears come.

* * *

Far too soon, the distinctive voice of none other than Godric Glotz came slithering up the empty street that Ril sat in.

“...just a fake. I am going to bond with my divine sphere tonight.”

Shooting to his feet Ril ran to the side of the road and listened.

“So what, you get two balls?” asked Gom’s distinctive rumble

“No you dolt, just a little bit of trickery. This sphere right here is the one I am going to bond with. It’s bigger than normal so it is more painful than the regular sized ones that you peasants are given. When I get home, they are going to give me something that will make me sleep and then they will bond me with the orb.”

By this point Godric could be seen around the corner that Ril hid behind, followed by his two shadows, Gom and Sonith. Godric was holding up a Divine Sphere that was much larger than the ones that were given to the children back at the ceremony.

Ril’s eyes locked on the metallic ball held proudly in the pompous bastard's hand, narrowing as his fist clenched and he muttered to himself.

“One way or another...”