Life of a Light

Chapter 5 - Last Light Given ☑️

The family didn't gather often. That was the rule—meet less, bond stronger. Only Juvenittes and Council‑approved occasions brought them together.

The last time they had all met was Kalise's Juvenitte, years ago. Now it was Etzia's turn, and the rotation meant this one would be held at Grandma's house.

The house woke early.

Not loudly—just the soft, efficient movements of a family who knew exactly what a Juvenitte required.

Mom, Kalise, Etzia, and Grandma stood in the kitchen, each doing something small and precise.

Grandma sliced fruit with slow, practiced motions.

Mom checked the time every few minutes.

Kalise arranged cups in a perfect line on the counter.

Etzia stood near the table, hands folded, waiting for instructions.

Outside, the others were setting up the backyard—chairs in rows, lanterns hung at exact intervals, a small table prepared for the ribbon ceremony.

Grandma didn't look up from her cutting board. "You grew since the last time we all met. That's how it should be."

Mom wiped her hands on a towel, then turned to Etzia.

Mom finally spoke, voice steady. "Everything must be ready before three. And they leave at seven.

Etzia nodded," So is Four hours for the ceremony."

Mom "Remember, the ceremony for your ribbon will be at 7 p.m. sharp. One of your relatives will give it to you."

She said it like a reminder, but her tone carried the weight of procedure.

Kalise glanced over her shoulder. "It's your turn now. Don't overthink it."

Etzia nodded once. "I won't."

At exactly three, the first relatives stepped through the gate.

No hugs. No loud greetings. Just brief nods and the formal exchange of names for the ledger.

They placed their gifts on the designated table and moved to their assigned seats in the backyard. The lanterns swayed lightly in the afternoon breeze, casting soft patterns across the grass.

Etzia walked through the rows once, acknowledging each person with a small bow—the expected gesture.

Etzia's dad handed her the list and the money, already halfway through arranging chairs in the backyard.

Dad "Etzia. Sarita. Go to the store and bring the drinks. I'm busy here."

The bikes hummed softly against the pavement as Etzia and Sarita pedaled down the long road that cut through their community. The morning sun wasn't harsh yet, just bright enough to make the houses look sharper, cleaner.

Sarita rode slightly ahead, then drifted back beside Etzia, matching her pace.

Sarita "Two days until the test."

Etzia kept her eyes forward. "I know."

Sarita shifted her grip on the handlebars, her voice steady—more like she was reporting something than sharing it.

Sarita "My role's going to be something in security. 

Etzia didn't argue. Sarita was good at fast reactions, sharp eyes, no hesitation.

Etzia "That fits you."

They turned onto the quieter street that led toward the plaza. A few neighbors were sweeping their porches, nodding as the girls passed. The air smelled like early cooking and dust warming in the sun.