Chapter 1 — The Whisper Inside the Black Flame
The sky was cracked.
Not by lightning.
Not by war.
But by something older than history itself.
A long golden scar stretched across the heavens as if the world had been cut by an invisible sword wielded by a forgotten god.
No sun shone behind it. Only an endless, bleeding light that never warmed the earth.
The people of the continent called it the Scar of the Fallen Flame.
No one remembered when it first appeared.
Scholars wrote that it had existed before the oldest kingdom.
Priests claimed it was punishment from abandoned gods.
Children were taught not to look at it for too long.
Because sometimes—
If you stared into the golden crack in the sky
—
You felt as if the sky itself was watching you back.
And that feeling never left.
Aric Veyr stood outside the broken stone wall of his village, watching the horizon burn in silent golden light.
The wind carried dust, dry grass scent, and the faint smell of old ash from distant wars that had burned lands he had never seen.
Behind him, the village was already quiet.
Not peaceful.
Quiet in the way abandoned graves were quiet.
The soldiers had left yesterday.
Not in victory.
Not in defeat.
They simply took what they wanted and departed.
The village harvest grain was gone.
The livestock were gone.
And ten young villagers were taken as "recruits" for the kingdom's endless war.
Aric was not among them.
Not because he was strong.
But because he was useless.
The village chief had told him once:
"You are a boy who does not belong to war or peace."
Aric did not hate that sentence.
Because it was probably true.
He pressed his hand lightly against his chest.
Inside his body, something was awake.
It had been whispering since last night.
Not words.
Not sound.
But a feeling that was deeper than hearing.
Like hunger that had learned patience.
Like darkness learning how to breathe slowly inside living flesh.
Aric closed his eyes.
"Stop talking," he said quietly.
The whisper did not answer.
But the sensation became softer.
Like a wild beast choosing to lie down after hearing its master's voice.
Aric had hidden this secret since childhood.
The black mark under his skin.
The strange symbol nobody could explain.
The village healer once told him it was a curse born from dark magic.
The priest said it was punishment from forgotten gods who had been abandoned by humanity.
Aric did not believe either of them.
Because the mark had never tried to kill him.
It only watched.
And sometimes it spoke when he was about to die.
Like it did when a dragon attacked the southern valley two years ago.
Or when he nearly drowned in the frozen river during winter.
The voice saved him.
And demanded nothing in return.
Yet Aric felt that one day it would ask something.
Something terrible.
Behind him, footsteps approached slowly.
Careful footsteps.
Like the person was deciding whether speaking was worth the silence.
"You are still here."
It was Mira.
She was carrying two wooden water containers.
Her brown hair was tied loosely, and there was dirt on her cheek from morning work.
"You should go," she said.
"The academy transport will leave before noon."
Aric did not turn.
"The village doesn't need me," he said.
"You know they only accepted you because of the academy recruitment rule," Mira replied softly. "Fifty students must be sent every year."
Aric smiled faintly.
Not happily.
Not sadly.
Just the expression of someone who understood something without liking it.
"I am Rank F," he said.
"They will send me back within a week."
Mira walked beside him and placed the water containers on the ground.
"Maybe," she said.
"But you are still going."
Silence followed.
The wind moved dust slowly across broken stones.
Far away, a lone crow cried once and flew toward the golden scar in the sky.
Aric spoke after a long moment.
"Why are you not angry that I am leaving?"
Mira was quiet for a few seconds before answering.
"Because you look happier when you are afraid of something bigger than this village."
Aric did not respond.
Because she was right.
The academy transport arrived at noon.
It was not a carriage.
It was a floating iron platform pulled by three pale winged beasts whose eyes were covered with black metal rings.
The academy soldiers wore white cloaks embroidered with silver symbols that Aric did not understand.
The symbol represented Godforge Academy.
The place where mortals attempted to touch divinity.
Only one in ten thousand students could awaken a divine core.
Aric climbed onto the platform without looking back.
Because if he looked back, Mira might wave.
And if she waved, he might change his decision.
The platform rose slowly into the sky.
The village shrank beneath him.
The river became a thin silver line.
Fields turned into brown dust shapes.
And finally, the world stretched below like a living painting created by forgotten gods.
The golden scar was closer now.
Aric felt the whisper inside his chest grow stronger.
Hungry.
Waiting.
Watching the sky
.
"What is your name?" asked a voice beside him.
It was a young man with blonde hair and confident eyes.
"Aric."
"I am Leon," the boy said. "What is your rank?"
"F."
Leon nodded slowly.
"Ah. I see."
There was no mockery in his voice.
Only understanding.
"Most F rank students either die during training or leave after the first month," Leon said casually.
"Which one are you planning to do?"
Aric thought about it.
Then answered honestly.
"I don't know yet.
"
Leon smiled.
"I like that answer."
The academy appeared two hours later.
It floated above a mountain range surrounded by seven enormous stone towers that pierced the clouds like ancient spears.
Massive black metal gates slowly opened as the transport approached.
Students were walking inside.
Some wore proud expressions.
Some were nervous.
Some tried to hide fear behind arrogance.
Aric felt the whisper inside him grow quieter as they crossed the academy boundary.
As if something here was suppressing it.
Or watching it more carefully.
Inside the academy hall, thousands of new students stood in straight rows.
A silver-haired woman floated above the stage without wings or platform.
Her presence felt heavy.
Like air itself was slowing around her.
"Welcome," she said.
Her voice was soft but carried clearly across the hall.
"I am Head Instructor Selene."
"Today you will undergo Divine Seed Examination."
"If your seed is broken, unstable, or too weak…"
"You will be sent back."
Many students swallowed nervously.
Aric stood silently.
Waiting.
The examination began.
One by one, students touched the crystal pillar standing at the center of the hall.
Lights of different colors appeared.
Blue.
Gold.
Green.
Sometimes white.
Rarely red.
Leon's turn came.
The crystal glowed bright golden light.
Murmurs spread across the hall.
"High talent…"
"Probably A rank…"
Leon stepped back calmly.
Then he looked at Aric and smiled.
"Good luck."
Aric walked forward.
The hall became quieter.
Some students watched him with curiosity.
Others with pity.
Someone whispered.
"Another useless one."
Aric felt nothing.
He had expected this.
But then—
The whisper inside his chest spoke.
Not softly.
Not patiently.
But like something breaking a long silence.
They are watching.
Aric frowned slightly.
"Who?" he thought.
The ones above the sky.
The golden scar in the heavens flickered faintly.
The crystal under Aric's hand suddenly cracked.
Not loudly.
But slowly.
Like something inside it was being devoured from within.
The hall became completely silent.
Head Instructor Selene's eyes widened slightly.
Because for the first time in her life—
She saw the crystal pillar bleed black light.
Not fire.
Not shadow.
But hunger.
A symbol slowly burned itself into Aric's skin under his shirt.
The whisper spoke one final time.
Carve me deeper when the time comes.
Then silence returned.
The air inside the hall felt heavier.
The Head Instructor spoke slowly.
"Student Aric Veyr."
"…Your Divine Seed is not broken."
Aric looked at her.
"What is it then?"
Selene answered after a pause.
"I do not know."
Outside the academy window, far above the golden scar in the sky—
Something opened one eye.
And the world waited without knowing why.