The sky above the Kingdom of Virel hung bruised and heavy, as if the clouds themselves carried the weight of what was coming. Smoke rose in thin black threads from the distant village, carrying the sharp bite of burning wood. Faint cries drifted on the wind—fearful, angry, growing louder.
Among the chaos, a boy ran.
Lucien was small for his age, thin from too many skipped meals, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. He wasn't just afraid. He knew. He had always known this day might come.
He had no magic. Not a single spark. In Virel, where mana determined everything—worth, future, even the right to breathe—he was less than nothing.
The villagers had whispered about him for years. At first behind hands, then openly. *Cursed. Tainted. The gods turned their faces from him.* When the whispers turned to shouts, his parents stopped taking him to market. When the shouts turned to threats, they boarded the windows.
Tonight, the threats became torches.
They came for his family first.
Lucien burst into the small house, chest heaving. His father was already dragging the worn rug aside, revealing the hidden trapdoor beneath the floorboards. His mother stood by the table, clutching a kitchen knife that trembled in her grip.
"Down there—now," his father said, voice low and urgent. He didn't look up. He couldn't.
Lucien froze in the doorway. "They're really coming?"
His mother crossed the room in three strides and pulled him close. She smelled of bread dough and woodsmoke, the scent of every quiet evening he could remember. "They're already here, love. Listen."
Outside, voices rose in a chant. Devil's spawn. Purge the blight.
His father grabbed Lucien's wrist and guided him to the opening. The ladder down was rough splintered wood, leading into damp darkness that smelled of earth and old roots.
"Go," his father said. "Follow the tunnel to the forest. Don't stop. Don't come back."
Lucien's feet wouldn't move. "You're coming too. Both of you."
His mother knelt, cupping his face in hands that shook. Her eyes were bright with tears she refused to let fall. "We can't, little star. They want blood tonight. If we run with you, they'll hunt us all down." She pressed her forehead to his. "Let us buy you time. Please."
The front door shuddered under the first blow. Wood groaned.
Lucien's throat closed. He tried to speak, but only a small, broken sound escaped.
His father shoved him gently down the first rung. "Live," he said, voice cracking on the word. "That's an order, boy."
Another blow. The doorframe splintered. Torchlight spilled through the cracks like orange knives.
His mother leaned over the opening one last time. "Remember we love you," she whispered. "Every day you breathe, we win."
Then the trapdoor slammed shut above him.
Darkness.
Lucien pressed his back against the dirt wall, heart hammering so hard he felt it in his teeth. He could hear everything.
His father's roar—wordless, furious. A crash as furniture overturned. His mother's sharp cry, cut off too soon. The wet sound of something he didn't want to name. Then… laughter. The villagers laughing.
Heat began to seep through the floorboards. Smoke followed, thick and choking. The air grew heavy, burning his lungs with every breath.
He stayed there longer than he should have, curled small in the dark, counting the seconds between cracks of flame eating wood. Counting heartbeats that weren't his parents' anymore.
Only when a beam groaned and sagged did he force himself to move. Hands scraping along the low tunnel his father had dug years ago "just in case." Knees raw against stone. Lungs screaming.
He emerged in the forest as the house collapsed behind him in a roar of fire and sparks. He didn't look back.
The night pressed close—cold air, pine needles underfoot, distant jeers fading into crackling flames.
Lucien stumbled forward until his legs gave out. He pressed his hands into the dirt, fingers digging into cold earth, feeling the weight of a world that had just taken everything from him.
No magic. No family. No mercy shown.
He did not cry. Not yet.
But a thought cut through the haze—cold, sharp, unbreakable.
The world abandoned me.
One day… it will pay.
As dawn bled pale gold across the treetops, staining the sky the color of old blood, Lucien made his silent vow.
I will learn their secrets. I will understand the laws beneath their magic. And I will show them all the price of forsaking me.