Jax had always known something was wrong with him.
It wasn't just the way the villagers of Eldermere avoided his eyes or fell silent when he passed by. It was something far deeper — a feeling that clung to his bones, whispering that he did not belong to the life he had been given.
Eldermere was a quiet village, built of stone and timber, resting between the ancient Whisperwood Forest and the mist-covered hills beyond. Life there followed simple rhythms: sunrise bells, evening fires, and stories told in low voices after dark. People did not welcome questions. They did not speak of magic.
Jax did both.
Since childhood, he had seen things others could not. Flickers of blue light dancing in the air before storms. Shadows that moved when no one was there. Dreams that felt more like memories — of towering spires, burning skies, and a voice calling his name in a language he did not understand.
He lived with Rowan, the man who had raised him since he could remember. Rowan was kind but distant, his eyes always heavy with secrets. Whenever Jax asked about his past — his parents, the strange mark on his arm — Rowan would turn away.
"Some truths are safer sleeping," he would say.
But truths, Jax had learned, never slept forever.
On the evening of his sixteenth birthday, the air felt wrong.
The sky dimmed long before sunset, clouds rolling in from nowhere, thick and twisted like living things. The wind grew sharp, carrying a strange metallic scent that made Jax's skin prickle. He stood outside their small stone house, watching the forest bend and sway as if bowing to an unseen force.
Then it happened.
A sudden pain flared along his forearm.
Jax cried out and dropped to his knees. The mark — a symbol etched into his skin since birth — ignited with blue light, lines shifting and moving like they were alive. Heat surged through his veins, not burning, but awakening something deep within him.
The wind screamed.
From the heart of Whisperwood came a sound that froze his blood — a low, ancient roar that echoed through the hills. Birds fled the trees. The ground trembled beneath his hands.
Rowan burst from the house, his face pale.
"So it begins," he whispered.
Jax looked up at him, fear and wonder battling in his chest.
"What is happening to me?"
Rowan knelt beside him, gripping his shoulders tightly. For the first time, the old man's eyes held no secrets — only dread.
"You were never meant to live quietly," Rowan said. "The world has remembered you."
Lightning split the sky, striking the forest's edge. For a brief moment, Jax saw something through the rain and fire — a massive shape, winged and watching, its eyes glowing like embers in the dark.
Then the light faded.
The mark on his arm dimmed, leaving behind silence… and destiny.
That night, Jax would sleep no more.
The boy who did not belong had been seen.
And the realms would never be the same again.