The valley was quiet, save for the rustle of wind sweeping across dying trees.
In the heart of that valley stood a house — crooked, weather-beaten, and stitched together with old timber and willpower. Smoke curled from its chimney like a whisper in the cold.
Inside, Kael sat cross-legged on a frayed mat. He was seven — sharp-eyed, pale-skinned, and unnaturally still. His breathing was calm, precise, and in rhythm with the breath of the world.
> "Breathe slower," came a gentle voice. "Essence is not a wild beast you chase. Let it find you. Let it see that your body is ready."
His mother sat beside him — dark hair tied in a simple braid, her robes patched but clean. Her hands were worn from work, but her posture spoke of training. She had once been someone powerful… someone who had turned away from the world to protect what mattered most.
Kael closed his eyes. He could feel it — not clearly, not yet, but like a scent on the wind.
The essence.
It was cold, darker than night. It didn't shimmer like fire or stir like wind. It waited — ancient and watchful.
> "Darkness," his mother whispered, almost reverently. "Your affinity. It runs in our bloodline… but now it's a curse."
Kael opened his eyes. "Why?"
She didn't answer at first.
> "There was a time when those with darkness in their blood ruled like emperors. Not all were cruel. But some… became monsters. And so the world hunted us. Burned our temples. Rewrote the truth." She turned away. "Now, even children like you are feared before they can speak."
Before Kael could respond, his mother's expression changed — a flicker of tension crossing her features. She rose to her feet in one smooth, silent motion and walked to the window slit.
Her back straightened. Her hand drifted slowly toward a wooden shelf.
> "Kael," she said quietly, "wake Ilira. Take her to the back. Now."
Kael moved without question. His little sister, five years old, was curled beside the hearth. He shook her gently, then scooped her into his arms.
Outside, boots thundered. Heavy. Armored. Dozens.
The Radiant Order had arrived.
A moment later, the door exploded inward in a blast of divine essence. Splinters flew. Cloaked figures stormed in, cloaked in white and silver. A golden insignia of a burning sun glowed on each of their chests.
> "Kill the woman," a cold voice said. "Take the children alive."
But they underestimated her.
Before the words fully left his mouth, Kael's mother moved. A blade of darkness — curved and silent — appeared in her hand, forged from her very essence. She launched into the first knight, cleaving through his throat before he could raise his shield.
> "You want my son?" she snarled. "Come earn him!"
Three more surged forward. She met them head-on, blade singing through the air, weaving with the grace of someone who once stood near the peak of the Essence Root Realm. Her movements were flawless, like a dancer in a death-ritual.
One strike. Two. Three.
Two enemies fell. One staggered back, clutching a ruined arm.
But they kept coming — ten, fifteen. Too many.
A spear of radiant light pierced through her side.
She gasped but did not fall.
She moved like a shadow torn from reality — severing one last knight's head from his shoulders before a hammer of golden qi crashed into her back, shattering her spine.
She collapsed.
Kael saw it all.
> "Mama!" he screamed, eyes wide, unable to move, frozen.
Her head turned. Her eyes found his. Blood painted her lips.
> "Kael," she whispered, "live."
Then came the blow that silenced her.
A final radiant lance pierced her heart — and her body stilled.
Kael dropped to his knees, Ilira trembling in his arms.
They took her.
And him.
Chains were thrown around his wrists and ankles. They dragged him outside. He didn't resist. He didn't speak.
The cart rolled over rough earth. The mountains faded into mist. Other children sat beside him, silent. Broken.
But Kael wasn't broken.
Not truly.
He stared ahead — not with fear, but with something deeper. Something darker.
A promise.
> "I'll never forget her voice. I'll never forget her blade. One day, the world will kneel, not because it fears me… but because it remembers her."
And somewhere in the depths of his soul… something ancient stirred.
A cold flame. A phantom of darkness.
A whisper that would one day become a roar.
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