He said, "Hey, kiddo. What's your name?"
"I'm Vayujit, sir."
He leaned back on his throne, voice calm but carrying a hidden edge. "Well, well, well… you're a clever fox, aren't you? Mind if I call you Junior?"
I forced a small smile. "If it pleases you, my Lord."
I didn't understand why I was here, and I didn't want to make a wrong move. So I kept my tone respectful — maybe overly so.
"Tell me about yourself," he said, studying me like I was some rare insect.
"I was born in Omkar village, District 11, South Province. I live with my parents and my sister. My father's a weaponsmith, my mother's a combat trainer—she's… really strong. And my crush—"
I stopped mid-sentence, realising how stupid it sounded. "Forgive me, my Lord. I let my tongue wander."
"District 11…" He scribbled something on a scroll. "Close enough to be interesting. I know your pathway."
That made my stomach tighten. How was I supposed to tell him I had none?
"Your Majest—"
"Don't lie to me, boy," he snapped. The warmth in his voice evaporated, replaced by a blade's sharpness. "You know the consequences."
I clenched my fists under my sleeves. He's bluffing.
"Calm down, Junior," he said with a faint smirk. "Just answer the question."
And then I realised — he wasn't bluffing. He could hear my thoughts.
My mouth went dry. "…I'm Pathless. My awakening failed."
Laughter rippled through the court. The guards smirked, ministers whispered, but the Wind Lord just watched me with that knowing smile.
"Leave us," he ordered.
The air changed. Soldiers moved in, reaching for me.
The mark on my arm flared hot. My skin seared. Flames burst from it, swallowing my body in fire. Three soldiers screamed as they were reduced to ash, a fourth collapsing with burns.
Shouts filled the hall — anger, fear — but the Wind Lord just… smiled.
The flames coiled around me like they belonged to me, yet didn't burn my flesh.
He raised his hand. With a flick of his finger, a gale slammed into me.
The air thickened, pressing against my chest. My nose bled. My mouth filled with the taste of iron. Blood vessels popped in my arms and legs. My vision darkened — like I was sinking beneath an ocean that wanted me dead.
If not for the fire shielding me, I would've been crushed into dust.
It ended as abruptly as it began. My flames dimmed, retreating back into the mark, but the burning under my skin didn't stop.
The Wind Lord stepped down from his throne. His aura unfurled — bluish and ghostly, beautiful in the way storms are before they destroy everything. The weight of it bowed my spine.
"Oh, Junior… does it hurt?" His voice dripped with mockery.
He reached for my arm. I tried to pull away, but his finger tapped just below my heart.
A sharp crack. Pain ripped through me. One rib broken. If he'd aimed a little higher, my heart would've been pulp.
Without a word, he pulled a strange metallic band from his robe and locked it around my arm. The burning eased slightly. More bands went around my neck and limbs — cold, heavy restraints.
I stood frozen. Not just from pain. From the realisation that I was nothing here.
"Take him to the prison," he said. "Execution is in two days."
The guards dragged me away. The cell was damp, dark, and silent.
And there, in the cold, I began to understand the mark. It wasn't just giving me fire — it was reshaping me.
In our world, fire isn't one thing. There's Bloodfire — bound by life essence. Dragonfire — passed through bloodlines. Beastfire — earned through brutal mastery. Wildfire — untamed, feral.
But my fire… it was none of these.
I knew this because my mother taught me every flame type like bedtime stories. Back then, I thought they were fairy tales. Now, I realised they were survival guides.
I leaned against the wall, stomach empty, throat dry, my mind circling the same question: What kind of fire is this?
Footsteps echoed outside the cell.
"The Wind Lord wishes to speak with you," a voice said.
"And… with another boy."
TBC ch 5 comming today only
(It'll be a short chapter)