The moment Rynan was born, everything about him had been wrong.
His body was weak, fragile—far too small, too frail for a child. His limbs were thin, his skin pale, his breaths shallow. It was like his body had never really wanted to live in the first place. And for that, his father hadn't even bothered to look at him. He had been discarded—left behind. No words, no touch, nothing. Just gone.
His mother had raised him alone in the village of Canon, a quiet place far away from the rest of the world. There, Rynan had learned what it meant to be different. Not just in the way he looked, but in the way people saw him. The other kids ignored him, while the adults whispered behind their hands. Weak. Useless. Cursed. Those words never stopped following him, like shadows that never let him be.
Now, here he was.
The wagon creaked beneath him as it rolled over the rough dirt road, each bump making the wooden frame groan. It wasn't anything special. Just a wagon. Solid enough to carry them, but it wasn't built for comfort. The thick wooden panels were scuffed and scratched, the iron-rimmed wheels grinding against the ground with every turn. The canvas tarp above barely protected them from the wind, its frayed edges fluttering weakly. The seats were nothing more than hard wooden planks, each bump jarring his back, making the journey feel longer than it already was. The air smelled like old hay and worn wood, thick with dust.
This wagon wasn't built for comfort.
It was built for getting them from one place to another.
Rynan sat on the left side, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His gaze was far away, lost in thoughts. Across from him, Ria and Leo sat in silence. The only sound was the steady rumble of the wheels, the creak of the wood beneath them.
He turned his head slightly, his eyes drifting toward the coachman up front. The man held the reins, steady and focused, guiding the horses along the road. His posture was stiff, his eyes trained ahead, never straying from the path. The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm glow over the land. Rynan guessed it was around 8 a.m.—still early, yet the journey already felt like it would never end.
Then—
CLANG!
The sharp crash of metal broke the quiet. The capital gates slammed open, their heavy iron hinges screeching as they parted. The sound echoed, cutting through the air, like the beat of a war drum. High-ranked guards stood tall along the walls, their stances perfect, their eyes watching, waiting. Their presence was everywhere—inside, outside, all of them in sync, like gears turning in a machine. The capital of Ylza was locked down tight, its walls built to keep everything and everyone safe.
The people of the capital relied on those walls, relied on those soldiers.
The wagon rolled forward, crossing the threshold. And just like that, the capital faded behind them.
Time passed.
The road stretched out before them, winding through wide fields, rolling over small hills, and disappearing into the horizon. The sky was clear, not a cloud in sight, and the sun warmed the earth below. The wind whispered through the grass, bending the blades in soft waves. It was peaceful. Too peaceful.
Rynan shifted in his seat, his chin resting on his knuckles as he stared out at the landscape.
Boredom crept in.
His mind wandered.
Those visions… the ones he'd had before waking up.
They weren't normal dreams. They felt too real. The voices, the shadows moving in ways they shouldn't, and the way something deep inside him stirred whenever he thought about them. He could try to ignore them, push them aside like they were just fragments of his imagination.
But a part of him knew better.
Ignore it, or do something.
As the wagon trundled on, the city fading further into the distance, the choice lingered. What would he do?
Ignore, 1
Do something, 2