Kriel had always known that he wasn't meant for greatness. In fact, it was the one truth that had been drummed into him since his earliest memories. From the moment he was born into a family that barely noticed his existence, he had understood that he was nothing more than a shadow, a name lost in the background of a world that moved without him.
His father, Theron, was a man of ambition, obsessed with his own success and wealth. He spent most of his days in the city, lost in meetings, and ignoring the family that clung to the edges of his life.
His mother, Liora, was a woman whose soul had long been drained by sorrow. She rarely spoke, her eyes empty as she moved through their crumbling home like a ghost.
Kriel had long since stopped expecting anything from her. It was as though she had given up on the very idea of love.
No one in his life cared for him no one but the cold, empty rooms of their decaying house. The air was always thick with silence, the oppressive kind that made his skin itch and his mind race.
When he wasn't buried in books he found abandoned in dusty corners, he spent his days outside, walking the desolate streets of his town or wandering the woods nearby.
It was there, among the towering trees and quiet earth, that he could almost believe there was more to life than the miserable existence he had known.
"Kriel Urgggh fresh air"
But even there, things weren't much different. The townspeople ignored him, and the few who bothered to acknowledge his presence did so with cruel words or mocking laughter.
He was an outcast. A boy who couldn't even muster the courage to speak his mind. And so, he simply existed unseen, unloved, unimportant.
That afternoon, Kriel had wandered deeper into the forest than usual, drawn by something he couldn't name
. The trees here were ancient, their gnarled roots twisting into the earth like the fingers of old gods. The air was heavy with the scent of pine and earth, but there was something else too—something strange.
The wind had shifted, as though the very atmosphere had altered its rhythm, and a low hum echoed through the trees.
It wasn't a sound he had ever heard before. It was a soft, almost imperceptible vibration that seemed to pulse through his chest, settling deep into his bones.
Kriel stopped, his feet frozen to the ground as his senses tingled, aware of something just beyond his understanding.
A flicker of light caught his eye.
At first, it was just a glimmer something faint, barely perceptible but then it grew brighter, more defined. Kriel followed the light, curiosity tugging him forward, despite every instinct screaming at him to turn back. As he drew closer, the air around him grew thick, suffused with an energy that felt foreign, almost alien. He had never felt anything like it.
And then, he saw it.
A rift.
"Kriel what the fuck this shit!!!!"
A tear in the fabric of the world itself, glowing with a sickly, pulsating light. It hovered above the ground like a wound in the sky, jagged edges crackling with chaotic energy.
The rift was both beautiful and terrifying, a sight that seemed too unnatural to exist. Kriel's heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel his pulse quicken as he stared at the swirling light.
A voice low, deep, and impossibly ancient whispered in his mind, reverberating like thunder inside his skull.
"You… are the one."
Kriel's breath caught in his throat, and his hands trembled at his sides. The voice was not one he could hear with his ears, but something that seeped into his very being, curling through his thoughts, entangling itself in the recesses of his mind. It wasn't a question. It wasn't an invitation. It was a command.
His heart raced as the rift before him expanded, the edges tearing open wider with each passing moment. And then, in an instant, something surged from within it—a force so intense, so overwhelming, that it struck him like a physical blow.
Kriel's body was lifted from the ground as though pulled by an invisible hand, the force of it suffocating him, crushing him from all sides. His vision blurred, the world spinning around him, as though he were caught in the center of some cosmic storm. He tried to scream, but no sound escaped his lips. His limbs flailed, desperately grasping for purchase, but there was nothing to hold onto.
And then, with an almost deafening crash, the force let go.
Kriel fell to the earth, his body hitting the ground with an agonizing thud. He gasped for air, his lungs burning, his heart pounding in his chest as if it might explode. The world around him seemed to waver, reality itself unsure of where to place him.
The rift still hovered above him, a constant presence, its unnatural glow bathing the forest in its eerie light. He could hear the wind now, louder, filled with a sense of urgency. The hum from before had grown into a low, rumbling sound, like the warning of an oncoming storm.
And then, once again, that voice filled his mind.
"You are mine now. Kriel, child of the Mortal Realm. You are the vessel. You are the key to what comes next."
---
Kriel struggled to his knees, his body heavy, as though it were made of stone. His head throbbed with the weight of the voice, the force behind it pressing into his thoughts. But this time, he understood. This wasn't some strange dream. This wasn't a hallucination. The rift, the voice—it was real.
His mind reeled as the power inside him began to stir, twisting, coiling through his veins like fire. He could feel it an energy older than time itself, ancient, divine. It was not his power, but it was in him, merging with his very soul. It felt like a flood, pouring into him, filling him with a force he could not control.
"Vaelith. You are Vaelith's vessel. The blood of rebellion runs through you now."
The name echoed in his mind, a name that sent a chill down his spine. Vaelith. The name of a fallen celestial. The name of a being whose very existence had torn apart the cosmos.
Kriel's vision swam, the world around him bending and warping as though reality itself could no longer hold together. The power within him surged again, and this time, he couldn't suppress it. His body glowed with a dark energy, pulsing with the force of a thousand storms.
"The worlds will burn," the voice whispered, a promise that hung heavy in the air.
And as the words settled into his soul, Kriel knew that nothing would ever be the same. He had been chosen.
No longer the invisible outcast—no longer the boy who lived in the shadows.
He was something greater now. He was the beginning of the end.
---
Kriel gasped, his breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. He was still lying in the dirt, the weight of the transformation pressing on his chest. The power within him thrummed, a constant hum in his ears, and he could feel it pulling at him, guiding him toward something darker, something inevitable.
He looked up, his eyes squinting against the strange light of the rift above him. The wind had died down, leaving only the eerie silence in its wake. But in that silence, he heard it he faintest sound, like footsteps, or perhaps something more. Something… coming for him.
"You are the harbinger," the voice murmured one last time.
And in that moment, Kriel understood. The universe had been shattered, and he was at the center of it all.
This was only the beginning.