A storm of gray clouds pressed down upon the mountain valley like a lid sealing a coffin. The wind cut sharp through the silent trees, carrying the scent of smoke and wet earth. At the heart of the forest, a boy no older than sixteen stood barefoot in the mud, staring at the ruins of what had once been his village.
Blackened wooden beams jutted from the ground like the ribs of a decaying beast. Fires had long died out, but their scars remained—scorched stone, collapsed roofs, and the silence of what was lost. His name was Kael. He had no family anymore. Not here.
He didn't speak. There were no words worth wasting. He walked slowly through the shattered remnants, the soles of his feet raw but numb. Ash stuck to his skin. Smoke had dried in his throat. Every few steps, he passed a memory: a broken toy near the well, his sister's red scarf caught on a fence post, his father's forge now a black crater.
He crouched beside the ruins of the town square and pulled aside a charred plank. Beneath it lay a cracked pendant, silver and simple, engraved with the mark of a seed. He clutched it. That symbol—etched into his mother's hands, whispered in his father's final breath—was the last thing connecting him to anything at all.
The seed.
He didn't understand what it meant. But they had died for it. And someone had come hunting for it.
Behind him, a branch snapped. He froze.
A figure stepped from the shadows—tall, cloaked, armored lightly in dark leather. A mask of bone covered the lower half of their face. The figure said nothing, only stared. The air grew still.
Kael stood, fists clenched around the pendant. He couldn't run. Not again.
"You shouldn't be here," the figure said. Their voice was calm. Neither mocking nor kind.
"It was my home," Kael replied.
"It no longer is."
Silence settled again. Kael's eyes never left the stranger.
"Were you part of it?" he asked. "The ones who burned it?"
The stranger tilted their head. "If I was, you'd already be dead."
"Then why are you here?"
"Because something still sleeps beneath this place. Something old. Something dangerous. And you are tied to it more than you know."
Kael said nothing. He didn't trust the stranger, but something in their voice—low, steady, without need for lies—felt like the truth.
"You carry the Seed," the stranger continued. "And it's awakening."
Kael looked down at the pendant. The surface glowed faintly now, veins of pale green light threading across it.
"What is it?"
"A gift. A curse. That depends on you."
Kael felt the weight of those words settle like stone. He had no training. No magic. No strength worth speaking of. Just grief, anger, and questions buried deeper than the roots of this mountain.
"Come with me," the stranger said. "There are others who would kill you for that alone."
"Why should I trust you?"
"You shouldn't," they said, turning away. "But you don't have a choice."
He hesitated, one final glance at the ashes behind him, then followed.
They moved fast, deeper into the forest. Hours passed, or maybe only minutes—time had begun to blur since the fire. Trees gave way to rocky trails, then to narrow ridges where only goats dared climb. The stranger moved like a shadow. Kael struggled to keep up.
At dusk, they reached a narrow cave hidden beneath a thicket. The entrance was marked with the same symbol as his pendant—carved into stone with ancient precision. The stranger lit a lantern and led him inside.
The walls were etched with murals. Not drawings. Memories carved in rock. One showed a tree larger than a castle, roots weaving through cities. Another showed that same tree burning, surrounded by hooded figures with blades of black fire. In each, the seed appeared—passed from hand to hand, from king to peasant to child.
"You're part of something old," the stranger said. "The world thinks the age of Seeds is over. But it was only buried."
Kael stared. "What am I supposed to do with this?"
The stranger met his gaze. "You don't awaken a Seed. It awakens you. When the time comes, you'll feel it. Until then… survive."
"Survive what?"
They didn't answer.
Night fell outside. Kael lay on the stone floor, eyes wide open, pendant still glowing softly in his palm. His muscles ached, and his mind was torn between disbelief and fear. But beneath all that… a pulse had begun. A rhythm that matched his own heartbeat.
For the first time in days, he slept.
The dream came uninvited.
He stood in a vast field of green, beneath a sky so blue it hurt. In front of him rose a giant tree, taller than any mountain, its leaves golden, humming with light. At its base sat a throne of roots, empty but waiting.
A voice spoke—not loud, not human. Just… present.
"Grow, or burn."
He woke gasping. The pendant glowed brighter now. His palm itched where it had touched him. When he looked, a mark had formed—same shape as the pendant, etched faintly into his skin.
Outside, thunder rolled again.
Far away, across kingdoms he didn't know, across cities and mountains and oceans, other eyes were opening. Some had waited centuries for this sign. Some had long forgotten it. But they would feel it, now that the Seed stirred.
And not all would welcome its return.