~~~Written by Yatharth, Co-Writer of Lord of Ten Skies
You hear that?
That's not thunder.
That's me — thinking.
People crave power. But what they truly fear… is control.
Not the control others have over them — no, that's easy to hate.
I'm talking about control over the self.
The discipline to move when no one's watching.
The instinct to strike when emotion clouds the air.
The stillness in a storm of desire.
You're still watching, aren't you? Waiting for something big to happen.
Waiting for fate to knock on your door and hand you purpose on a silver plate.
Here's your truth:
The strongest ones don't wait for fate.
They become the storm fate has to answer to.
I didn't stumble into power like the others. I chased it. I bled for it.
I earned every shard of thunder in my veins — until even lightning began to listen.
You're wondering how I'm speaking to you?
How a boy from a sky you've never heard of is breaking into your story?
That's the thing about lightning.
It doesn't just break sound.
Sometimes… it breaks the fourth wall.
I am Rudrank.
A Lightning Bearer.
And this is how my silence turned to thunder.
They say the world shattered into ten skies long ago.
Each sky holds its own truths, its own power. Its own pain.
Sky 10 — my home — is unlike the others.
It doesn't cradle you in nature's lap like the Earth Sky.
It doesn't sing in tongues of flame like the Fire Sky.
Sky 10 forges you like steel — and hurls you into war.
The common ones? You've heard of them — Wind, Water, Fire, Earth.
The rare ones? Sun and Moon, born once in generations.
The forbidden? Mind and Time.
Not taught. Not gifted.
Passed through bloodlines… like ghosts in the bloodstream.
On the 29th of July, I turned sixteen.
The day of Awakening.
Every year, sixteen-year-olds gather beneath the temple's arc to discover which Pathway they were born for.
Some call it a blessing.
I call it judgement.
The first boy trembled like he already knew he'd fall short.
He was lucky. He awakened Earth. He smiled, relieved.
One wasn't so lucky. Nothing happened. His Pathway didn't awaken at all.
Cruel laughter echoed.
He looked like the world had dropped him.
I was the only one who helped him up.
Then there was a girl who awakened the Sun Pathway.
She didn't need to smile. Her skin glowed with divinity.
And then… it was my turn.
The High Priestess called my name, and the sky answered.
Clouds roared. Rain kissed the temple stones.
And then — lightning.
A flash, then silence.
Everyone stopped breathing.
The markings on my arms glowed with white-blue veins.
I had awakened the Lightning Pathway.
Only a handful ever do. It's a Pathway of reflex, of rage kept in check.
Lightning is a spirit.
It listens to no one… unless you earn its trust.
And somehow, I knew what to do.
As if the storm whispered instructions in my mind.
How to channel the energy.
How to move faster than thought.
How to stay silent while my enemies shattered.
They trained me that evening in basic Lightning Combat.
My muscles moved before my thoughts.
Every nerve alive.
That night, I decided to treat myself.
I was thinking of my father — my whole world — and the bento boxes he always packed for me on special days.
Food always tastes better when you've earned it.
So I walked home through the drizzle.
Summoning sparks. Shocking a few pebbles. Even a few people.
It was harmless fun — or so I thought.
Flame Pathway kids laughed. My shocks barely reached them.
Turns out fire doesn't fear lightning.
Then I saw it.
A fallen tree, broken across the road.
Without thinking — just wanting to show off — I raised my hand and fired a bolt.
White-hot lightning cracked into the bark.
The tree went up in flames.
At first, I smiled.
But then… the scream.
There was a person beneath the tree.
I ran.
The flames swallowed the bark. The boy lay there, unconscious, his body alight.
What had I done?
Wind Bearers descended in a blur of air.
They couldn't carry fire. Their Pathway rejected it.
So they took me — lightning temporarily grants us gliders during storms.
We flew together, soaring through smoke and panic.
We got him to the temple in time.
I thought I had killed him.
All for a moment of pride. All for a second of attention.
That night, I didn't sleep.
I just sat there. Watching the skies.
Hoping for forgiveness.
Fearing I didn't deserve it.
But then… he walked out of the healing room.
Unaffected.
Not a burn.
Not a mark.
Not even a hair singed.
He had survived the lightning.
No. He had endured it.
That was the first time I thought:
Maybe I'm not the only one.
Maybe lightning didn't just choose me.
To be continued in The Thunder Knows My Name — R2
(Special series based on Rudrank — essential for deeper understanding of the main novel)