Michael watched his daughter in silence.
But it was the kind of silence that screamed.
Not with words, but with pride so contained it was almost audible.
His face, as always, wore the noble mask, impeccable...
But his eyes?
They shouted:
That's my girl.
And then, like someone stepping into a sacred moment with iron boots, he shattered the mood with his legendary social grace—polished stone level.
"Ancestral, how are you?"
Auren raised one spectral eyebrow and let out a laugh that echoed like velvet-wrapped thunder.
"Little Michael... learn how to speak to your daughter, charisma-deprived creature."
Michael cleared his throat. Looked away. Tried to look busy... with air.
Ligia laughed.
Not just at the moment—but at the irony.
There stood her father, the ruthless strategist, heir to the most feared bloodline in the Empire...
Completely lost in front of his own daughter.
No one dared reprimand him.
Except her mother.
With a small sigh and a dash of mercy, Ligia extended an emotional lifeline.
"Father... I did it. I awakened my bloodline."
Michael, saved like a castaway clinging to an emotional lifebuoy, cleared his throat again and replied with all the human warmth he could muster:
"Th-that's good. Now we need to see... which element you awakened."
Auren crossed his arms and gave him a look that said, for the love of runes, try harder,
But chose instead to sigh with the elegance of an ancient ancestor.
"Let us take advantage of the lingering ritual. It's time for the affinities."
Ligia blinked, slightly confused.
"What do I need to do?"
Michael shifted into tutorial mode—his comfort zone.
"Sit again. Meditate. You need to access your soul."
Auren added,
"The platform will guide you. Since it's your first time dealing with your essence, right, princess?"
Ligia nodded.
She sat in the center of the ancestral circle.
And looked at the two men—one, an ancient spirit, the other, a father with the emotional range of a stone wall.
She took a deep breath.
Inhaled the thick air scented with candles, magical dust, and ancient iron.
Closed her eyes.
Auren murmured to himself,
"The soul doesn't open like a door... it remembers. Like a song you've never heard, but always knew how to sing."
Michael stood still, arms crossed.
But his eyes? They waited. Vibrated.
Ligia dove inward.
At first: only darkness.
Then: nothing.
She tried to breathe. Listen. Feel.
But all was white noise. An echo without words.
She forced her mind.
Pushed her awareness like someone testing the walls of a dream.
Nothing.
Auren watched in silence.
Michael cleared his throat.
"Don't fight it. Feel it."
Ligia inhaled.
Then remembered her mother's voice from this life:
"When you can't find a path, daughter... make one."
She stopped searching.
Stopped forcing.
And simply... felt.
The world turned.
Sound vanished.
Her body disappeared.
Her consciousness sank.
Into a liquid warmth. Dense. Ancestral.
And then...
The darkness tore.
Before her appeared an infinite sky.
Galaxies pulsed like the hearts of sleeping gods.
Stars moved in living constellations.
Meteors danced like memories before they were ever born.
Ligia's soul was an entire cosmos: vast, mysterious, alive.
Words without language arose in her mind, whispered by the stars:
"Souls dance between light and eternity."
And everything responded.
The firmament pulsed with her presence.
Galaxies trembled.
Constellations spun in forgotten patterns.
Ancient codes, cosmic choreographies activated only by those who dared see beyond the veil.
But there was something beyond the sky.
A call beneath the stellar tapestry.
And Ligia... dove.
Without body.
Without name.
Just a spark crossing planes.
The space changed—from cosmic to elemental.
And there they were.
The Portals.
Suspended in the void, grand, vibrating with primordial essence.
A portal of living roots and floating stones, pulsing with the power of Life.
Another made of silver gears, whispering formulas of Creation.
A crimson mirror surrounded by ancient bones—the Gift of Blood.
Black clouds in constant clash, eternal lightning—the Storm.
A translucent veil stitched with stars, murmuring timeless voices—the Soul.
Ligia's heart raced.
They all seemed to pull at her. But only three responded.
"Focus, daughter," murmured Michael's voice, distant as if underwater.
"Which doors accept you? Which recognize you?"
She extended her soul.
And then...
The Blood portal shone with living crimson.
The Soul portal answered with celestial symbols dancing.
And, even surprising herself... the Creation portal whispered in golden gears.
Three affinities.
Blood.
Soul.
Creation.
The three portals opened at once.
A roar of ancestral power flooded the plane.
The affinities poured into Ligia like rivers of living essence, tattooing her soul with runes that could not be written—only felt.
Her floating body was pulled back.
Reality could no longer contain her presence.
In the final glimpse, she saw Auren.
Not the playful one. The Ancestral.
His eyes: ancient black holes.
His smile: pride and prophecy.
"Awaken, d'Argêntea.
The sky recognizes you. The blood calls you. And the storm... watches."
Ligia opened her eyes.
A sharp gasp, like surfacing from an icy ocean.
On the platform, her body glowed.
Her veins pulsed with living light.
And behind her, symbols of the three affinities floated like constellations.
Michael smiled.
Auren crossed his arms, satisfied.
Ligia d'Argêntea had awakened.
And now, the world would have to learn...
how to deal with it.