The Rejection

Chapter 3: The Rejection

Lucian stood alone in the center of the grand courtyard, his feet heavy on the stone beneath him. The air was cool, the sky above a pale, washed-out gray that mirrored the weight in his chest. The murmurs of the nobles, the soft rustle of robes, the scuffing of boots against cobblestones—it all blended into an indistinct noise. He could hear it, but none of it reached him. His mind was too far away, caught in the suffocating stillness of the moment.

It was the day of the Pact Ceremony.

He could feel the eyes on him. Everywhere. The nobles lined up along the edges of the courtyard, their gazes piercing him, their whispers like a weight on his back. His siblings were beside him—Kaelen, his older half-brother, dressed in ceremonial robes, and his beast, a massive fire tiger, standing proudly by his side. Alina, his half-sister, with her storm falcon perched on her arm, delicate and elegant.

They were the picture of success. Their beasts are powerful and majestic. The crowd admired them. Kaelen's tiger growled low, exuding strength, and Alina's falcon preened itself, ready for the flight to come. Their bond was clear and undeniable. 

But Lucian? 

His heart thudded painfully against his ribs. There was nothing at his side. Just an empty space.

He couldn't help but look at them—Kaelen's easy confidence, Alina's poised grace—and wonder how long it would take before their eyes turned to him with the same disdain his father had. His father, the Duke, had made it clear, time and again, that Lucian was a failure, a disappointment. 

"Your turn," Kaelen's voice broke through his thoughts, cold and unfeeling, as always. Lucian didn't look at him. He only nodded, his throat tight. He could feel Kaelen's gaze linger, but it wasn't for him. It never had been.

Slowly, with an effort that felt as if it would break him, Lucian walked forward, past the rows of nobles, his every step feeling like an eternity. The Beast Keeper stood at the end of the courtyard, holding the orb, his figure tall and imposing, a silent reminder of what was at stake.

The orb, glowing softly, seemed to pulse with power. Lucian's stomach twisted. His mouth was dry. He could feel the weight of the moment pressing on him, pressing on everything.

The Keeper's gaze met his, and for a moment, Lucian saw no judgment in it. Just emptiness. A professional distance. "Are you ready, young tamer?" The voice was smooth, and neutral, like he'd asked this question a thousand times.

Lucian opened his mouth, but no words came. He wasn't ready. He would never be ready for this. He wasn't like Kaelen, wasn't like Alina. He wasn't like them. 

He couldn't say any of that. So he nodded, his throat too tight to speak.

The Keeper raised the orb. It flared brightly, the light casting long shadows across the courtyard. The magic stirred in the air, an invisible force. Lucian closed his eyes for a moment, but it didn't help. It never did.

His father's voice echoed in his mind, sharp and cutting. If you don't form a bond, you are nothing. "If you don't form a pact with even a simple beast during the ceremony, leave the estate. You'll be the disgrace you've always been."

Lucian squeezed his eyes shut harder, trying to block the words out. But they were there, louder than ever. He could still feel his father's disappointment, even though he wasn't in front of him. The Duke's eyes, were cold and judging. The pressure. The fear.

The orb glowed brighter, the hum of magic growing louder. Lucian's heart raced in his chest. He wasn't ready. He never would be. 

A slight breeze stirred the air, but Lucian couldn't feel it. He only felt the weight of the moment, the crushing pressure of everything—the ceremony, the expectations, the eyes on him.

And then it happened.

A creature emerged from the shadows.

It wasn't much. Small. Fragile. It didn't have the power of Kaelen's tiger or Alina's falcon. No grandeur, no majesty. The creature was small, no bigger than a rabbit, its fur matted and dirty. Its eyes were wide, darting, uncertain. 

Lucian's breath caught in his throat. Could this be it? Could this be the bond he had longed for? The connection that had always eluded him?

The creature sniffed the air, its small nose twitching. It took a step forward, its movements tentative. Lucian's heart surged in hope, a single, fragile thread of optimism. Maybe this would be the one. Maybe, just maybe, it would accept him.

It stopped.

Lucian held his breath. The creature sniffed again, its ears twitching. 

And then, with a deliberate slowness, it turned away.

The silence that followed was deafening. Lucian stood frozen, his heart beating painfully in his chest. His breath felt shallow, caught in his throat. The creature didn't even look back. It walked away, its small form retreating into the shadows where it had come from.

Nothing. 

He had nothing.

His chest tightened, the pain sudden and sharp. His vision blurred. His knees felt weak beneath him, but he couldn't let himself fall. Not here, not now.

The Beast Keeper's voice broke the silence. "The beast has rejected you, young tamer."

Lucian couldn't hear the words, not really. His mind was too consumed by the weight of what had just happened. The creature had walked away. It had chosen nothing. And neither had he.

He didn't dare look at the crowd, but he could feel their eyes. He could feel them watching him, judging him. His father's gaze burned into him from across the courtyard, a look of cold disdain on his face. Lucian's breath hitched, the words from his father still ringing in his ears. Pathetic.

The murmurs of the crowd rose around him. Whispers. Words he couldn't hear clearly, but they didn't need to be clear. He knew what they said. "Failure," one voice hissed, barely above a whisper. "Disgrace," came another, almost too quiet to be real.

But it was real. The weight of it crushed him. The pain, the failure, it all became a part of him. The world was right. He wasn't chosen. He wasn't even worthy of the smallest of beasts.

His hands were shaking. His body trembled. He wanted to disappear, to slip away, to hide from their eyes, from pity and judgment, but he couldn't move. He was trapped in the moment, in the suffocating silence of his own failure.

A sharp breath.

His father's voice cut through everything, a quiet mutter. "Pathetic."

Lucian closed his eyes, letting the words settle inside him. He wanted to break, wanted to scream, wanted to fall to the ground and give up. 

But then, something else. A flicker. A small spark of defiance. 

He wasn't ready to accept it. Not yet. Not today.

Lucian's hand clenched into a fist at his side. His chest tightened, but his head was clearer. The weight of failure pressed down on him, but he stood taller. Not much, just a little. But it was there.

The world had told him he was nothing. He had failed. But Lucian is not satisfied with this, Not yet.

Not today.