Rain had a way of making the dirt roads of Aragon look like the veins of a dying beast, muddy, sunken, and twitching under the weight of carts and worn boots. Eleven-year-old Kael stumbled along one of those veins, his tunic soaked, hair plastered to his forehead as villagers whispered behind cracked doors and shuttered windows.
"Is that the Skillless boy?"
"Poor child... born broken."
"A curse on his mother's womb."
Kael heard every word, though he kept his head low. He clutched a cloth satchel with trembling fingers, its only contents a piece of stale bread and a folded letter with his name written in shaky ink.
Today was supposed to be his awakening.
Every child in Aragon underwent a ritual at age eleven. It was the moment fate carved their path whether they'd become a Flame Wielder, a Stormcaller, or perhaps a Mindbinder. The possibilities were endless, and the entire village gathered in the plaza to witness the miracle of Skills being born.
But Kael... Kael awakened nothing.
The crystal orb had remained dim in his palms, not even a flicker. The Elders had stared at him in disbelief, then with quiet disdain. And the whispers had begun before he left the plaza.
Skillless.
That word alone was a death sentence in a world ruled by power.
He wandered to the edge of the village where the cliffs overlooked the Gloomwood. There, among the jagged rocks, he collapsed to his knees, the letter falling from his grip. He didn't care if the rain smeared the ink or the wind took it.
He cried not loudly, but with that shaking kind of grief that made breathing hurt.
Then, between sobs, he heard it.
"You don't belong to this world's rules, boy."
Kael jerked up, scanning the shadows. No one.
"You don't need a Skill to tear this system apart."
His breath caught. It wasn't a voice of comfort. It wasn't even human. It echoed like the grinding of bones wrapped in silk.
A faint glyph shimmered behind his right eye for a fraction of a second then vanished.
And the rain suddenly stopped.
Kael stood, not because he was strong, but because the ground itself had gone unnaturally still. Something had changed.
The boy who was born with nothing... had just become something not even the gods foresaw.