The Boy Who Dreamed of Light – Nova's humble beginnings and magical training
The twin suns of Synthexis Network hovered like blazing watchmen in the amber sky, casting long shadows over the village of Karael Reach. The air shimmered with mana—raw, drifting currents of energy that laced through the trees and soil like invisible rivers. In this land, magic wasn't learned. It was lived. Born into the bones. But for one boy, it was more than life. It was destiny.
Nova knelt by the edge of the silverstream, hands outstretched over the water's surface. His fingers twitched, tracing runes in the air as his lips whispered incantations only he could hear.
"Sol—veras… lumina… resh."
The water shimmered. Light flickered. And then—fizzled.
Nova sighed and slumped onto the mossy bank. "Almost."
He'd been out here for hours, as he did every day. The other villagers used their magic for chores, hunting, farming. Nova, however, didn't care about fruit-bearing spells or self-cleaning dishes. He wanted light. The true light, the kind spoken of in ancient scrolls—the kind that could shatter darkness, banish monsters, and make even the strongest Varnyx howl and flee.
His grandfather's words echoed in his mind:
"The light doesn't come from the sky, boy. It comes from within. From choosing to stand when others fall."
Nova had clung to those words ever since the old man had passed. They were all he had left. His parents had been gone even longer, lost to a Varnyx raid when he was five. The village elders had never spoken of it. But Nova remembered. The smoke. The screams. The red eyes in the dark.
He would never forget.
He would grow strong. Strong enough to make sure no child ever saw what he saw.
A soft rustling behind him made Nova snap to his feet. His fingers sparked with raw mana, instinctively forming a defensive weave. A squirrel bolted from the bushes.
He exhaled. "Jumpier than usual…"
Just then, the ground trembled—lightly, almost like a pulse. He felt it in his feet. Heard the faint, distant howl of something… unnatural.
He turned toward the forest. The trees whispered to each other, rustling in warning.
Nova narrowed his eyes. He could feel it: something dark was near.
Later that night, as the village prepared for the Festival of Blazing Hearts, Nova remained in his study. The other boys were carving fire-globes for the celebration. Nova was pouring over spell scrolls by candlelight. Stolen ones, hidden in the attic of the old Archive Tower. Dangerous ones.
He unrolled one that shimmered with runes no one his age should be reading.
"Glyph of Lightburst – Class B: Offensive Radiance"
He read the notes beneath the spell with wide eyes:
A high-tier light spell that draws from emotional intent. Warning: May cause aura instability if used repeatedly by a novice.
Perfect.
He closed his eyes and tried again.
"Sol—veras… lumina… resh!"
His hands glowed—this time brighter than ever before. Heat surged through him. The glyph formed in the air, solid, golden.
But then—it shattered.
Nova gasped and stumbled back as a beam of light burst toward the ceiling, scorching a rune into the wood. The candle went out. Silence.
A moment passed.
Then… something stirred.
A deep, scraping sound echoed from beneath the floorboards.
Nova froze.
Again, the sound—a dragging, slithering echo, faint but unmistakable.
His breath caught.
"No," he whispered. "Not here. Not now…"
He rushed to the window.
Far across the valley, in the direction of the ancient forest, a black mist was rising. Thick. Coiling. Alive.
Nova's heart pounded. The Varnyx.
They'd returned.
And this time… they were looking for something.
Or someone.
Meanwhile, far beneath the village, in the ruined halls of an ancient city buried in the crust of Synthexis, a voice whispered.
"He awakens…"
A figure cloaked in shadow stood among the corpses of old kings. His eyes glowed red, his hands dripping with void-energy.
"The boy has begun to shine. Find him. Kill him… before he remembers."
Back in Karael Reach, Nova stood outside, staring up at the stars.
He didn't know it yet, but this was the last night his village would ever be whole. The last night before his life was torn open and reforged in the fire of war.
He didn't know that in days to come, he would fight monsters, raise fallen ruins, and meet friends who would become legends beside him.
He only knew one thing:
The darkness was rising.
And he was ready to rise with it.