Five years after the world ended, the sky still remembered fire.
Not the fire of suns or storms, but the fire of betrayal , a blaze that had torn through the heavens when the Lords shattered the old magic, silenced the truth, and rewrote the laws of existence. The stars, once bright and full of song, now hung like cold, dead eyes. The wind carried whispers of the forgotten, and the earth bore scars from wars no one dared speak of.
In a forgotten village nestled between the mist, laced mountains and the blackened forest, life clung on. Not in glory, not in power, but in silence. In survival.
And in that village, on a night when the moon bled crimson, a woman screamed.
The wooden hut trembled. Smoke curled from the hearth, and the scent of iron, blood, filled the air. Midwife Ela wiped sweat from her brow, hands trembling as she guided the second child into the world.
"Twins," she whispered, voice cracking. "By the Lords… twins."
The first child wailed , a strong cry, full of fury. A boy. Healthy. His tiny fists clenched the air as if already ready to fight.
They named him Liam.
The second… was silent.
He didn't cry. He didn't move. He simply opened his eyes.
And in that moment, the lantern above flickered. The fire dimmed. The wind outside stopped.
The midwife froze.
The baby's eyes weren't the color of the sky or the soil. They were gold , like molten sun trapped in glass. And they weren't looking at the ceiling. They were looking through it.
Then, without warning, the cradle shook.
A pulse of light , golden, silent , rippled through the room. The ceiling cracked. Dust rained down. And in the span of a single breath…
The second twin vanished.
No sound. No flash. No wind.
Just absence.
The mother collapsed against the bed, screaming his name before he'd even been given one.
"Leo!"
But he was gone.
Outside, the village slept, unaware.
Inside, Jake , the father , stared at the empty cradle, his face pale, his hands clenched into fists.
He had seen this before.
Not in his own blood.
But in the trembling hands of a man who sat across from him in a dim bar, just months ago, in a village on the edge of the blackened forest.
His name was Daren.
Once a proud hunter. Now a ghost.
He had raised a glass of cheap whiskey, voice cracking.
"They took him, Jake… my boy. One night, he was there. The next… gone. Just a golden light. No sound. No warning. Like the sky reached down and plucked him from his cradle."
Jake had tried to comfort him. "Maybe it was a dream. Grief plays tricks."
Daren had laughed , a broken, hollow sound.
"Dream? I watched it happen. I screamed. I grabbed him. But the light… it just… swallowed him."
He slammed the glass down. "And the Lords? They said it was an honor. A gift. A lie."
Jake hadn't wanted to believe it.
But now?
Now he knew.
It wasn't madness.
It wasn't grief.
It was the truth.
And the system had come again.
For his son.
Mary, the mother, sobbed into the sheets, clutching the empty blanket.
"He had golden eyes… just like the stories said…"
Her voice broke.
"They always take the golden ones. Why? Why take a child before he even speaks?"
Jake knelt beside her, voice hollow.
"Because the system doesn't choose at random. It chooses the strong. The ones with potential. The ones it can twist."
He looked at the first twin, still wailing in the midwife's arms.
"This one…" Jake whispered. "He stayed."
The midwife handed the child to Mary.
"What will you name him?"
Mary looked at the empty cradle, tears streaming.
"The one who stayed… will be Liam."
"And the one who was taken?" Ela asked.
Jake's voice was stone.
"He will be forgotten. Until the day he returns."
Five Years Later
The village had changed. Or rather, it hadn't.
Same dirt paths. Same cracked wells. Same fear in the eyes of the elders when the wind howled at night.
But Liam had changed.
At five years old, he was already taller than most boys his age. Quiet. Watchful. He didn't play with the other children. He watched them. Listened. Learned.
He never asked about his brother.
But he dreamed of him.
Every night, the same vision: a boy with golden eyes, standing in a dungeon of black stone, surrounded by chains of light. A voice, faint and broken, whispering:
"Find me… before they make me forget…"
Liam would wake in a cold sweat, heart pounding, fingers clutching the dirt floor.
Today, however, was different.
Today, the sky turned red again.
Liam stood at the edge of the forest, where the trees grew twisted and the air hummed with forgotten energy. In his small hand, he held a smooth, black stone, his only treasure.
It wasn't just a rock.
It was a core.
A piece of magic from a monster his father had slain during the First Rebellion. Jake had given it to him yesterday, saying only:
"This is yours. Don't lose it. Don't show it to anyone."
Liam didn't understand why. But he obeyed.
He placed the core on the ground and sat cross, legged before it, mimicking the stance he'd seen his grandfather James use in old drawings.
"Focus," he whispered, repeating the word from James' journals.
He closed his eyes. Breathed. Reached into himself.
And for the first time… he felt it.
A warmth in his chest. A pulse. Like a second heartbeat.
Mana.
His eyes snapped open.
The core glowed , a faint blue light, like distant stars.
Liam gasped.
Then, from the forest, a voice:
"You're not supposed to be able to do that."
He turned.
An old man stood there, cloaked in gray, face hidden beneath a hood. But his eyes , pale green, sharp as blades , locked onto the core.
Liam scrambled back. "Who are you?"
The man stepped forward. "I am Leaf. And you… you are not like the others."
Liam clutched the core. "What do you want?"
Leaf knelt, slow and deliberate. "I want to know how a five year old child can awaken mana without chanting."
Liam frowned. "Chanting?"
Leaf's lips curled slightly. "You didn't say a spell. You didn't move your hands. You just… willed it."
Liam looked at the core. "I just… wanted it to glow."
Leaf exhaled, long and slow. "Then you've already done what the Lords forbid."
"Lords?" Liam asked.
Leaf stood. "They say magic must be spoken. That power must be asked for, not taken. But you… you took it."
He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, leather, bound book.
"Your grandfather left this for someone like you."
Liam stared. "James…?"
Leaf nodded. "He was exiled. Called a heretic. But he saw the truth. Magic doesn't need words. It needs will."
He placed the book in Liam's hands.
"Read it. Train in secret. And when the time comes… find your brother."
Liam's breath caught. "You… know about Leo?"
Leaf's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Everyone in the shadows knows about Leo. The Lords took him to the Island of Trials. They're shaping him into a weapon. A perfect soldier with no past, no name, no self."
Liam's fingers tightened around the book.
"Then I'll break the island."
Leaf smiled , just slightly.
"Good. Because the first war is over. The second… is just the beginning."
Meanwhile The Island of Trials
Cold stone. Chains of light. A dome of golden energy sealing the sky.
This was the Island of Trials , a floating fortress where the Lords shaped the chosen into perfect soldiers. No names. No past. No self.
And in the central chamber, a boy stood motionless.
Leo.
Five years old. Barefoot. Dressed in white robes. His golden eyes now black , void, like, endless.
A golden beam of light scanned him from head to toe.
A mechanical voice echoed:
"Subject L, 7. Genetic match confirmed. Mana core stability: optimal. Emotional resistance: low. Proceed to Phase One: Sensory Deprivation."
Leo didn't move. Didn't blink.
He had not been given a name. Only a number.
He had not been taught love. Only obedience.
A door slid open. A dark corridor stretched ahead.
"Enter."
Leo stepped forward.
The door sealed behind him.
Inside, complete darkness.
Silence.
And then , a whisper in his mind:
"You are not Leo. You are a weapon. You do not remember. You do not feel. You obey."
Over the next ten years, the system would break him.
Rebuild him.
Erase him.
He would survive hunger.
Kill to live.
Betray to escape.
Evolve to survive.
And when he was 16, they would send him on his final mission:
Descend into the deepest dungeon. Kill the boss. Retrieve its core. Return within 24 hours.
It was his graduation test.
But the Lords didn't know one thing:
Deep in the silence, a voice still whispered.
A name.
Liam.
And it would not be silenced.
Back in the Village
Liam sat by the river, the journal open in his lap.
The first page read:
"To the one who reads this , know that magic is not a gift from the Lords. It is a birthright. And the greatest lie they ever told was that you need words to wield it."
James, the Exiled
Liam traced the words with his finger.
Above him, the sky darkened.
Somewhere, deep beneath the earth, a dungeon trembled.
A brother screamed.
A spell was cast without sound.
And the world… held its breath.
To Be Continued in Chapter 2