The morning sun filtered through the worn linen curtains of Lewis's bedroom, casting soft golden rays across the wooden floorboards. He stirred beneath his quilted blanket, white hair splayed across his pillow like fresh snow, before his sapphire eyes fluttered open to greet the new day. The familiar sounds of his village waking distant chatter, the clatter of cart wheels on cobblestone, the rhythmic hammering from the blacksmith's forge created a symphony he'd known his entire life.
"Lewis! Breakfast is ready, sweetheart!" His mother's voice drifted up from the kitchen below, warm and melodic.
He smiled, stretching his slender arms above his head before swinging his legs out of bed. The cool morning air kissed his skin as he padded across the room to the washbasin, splashing water on his face. His reflection stared back at him from the small mirror mounted on the wall those piercing blue eyes with their hint of inner light, the delicate features that had earned him both admiration and the occasional teasing from the village boys. He ran his fingers through his messy white hair, attempting to tame the fluffy, wavy locks, though they remained as wild and soft as ever, falling to medium length around his face.
After dressing in his usual attire a soft, loose-fitting shirt beneath a simple long coat fastened with brass clasps, paired with slim dark trousers and well-worn leather boots. Lewis descended the narrow staircase. The scent of fresh bread and honey filled their modest home, mingling with the earthy aroma of his father's morning tea.
"There's my boy," his father said, looking up from the newspaper one of those curious modern inventions that had found its way even to their border village. His expression was troubled as he folded the paper. "More news about the war. Aurellia's mobilizing troops along the eastern territories."
Lewis's mother set down a pot with more force than necessary. "I wish they'd leave us out of their politics. Three months since the kings disappeared, and now we're caught between two angry kingdoms like meat between grinding stones."
"Mama, we'll be fine," Lewis said, though uncertainty flickered in his chest.
"Thornhaven has always been neutral ground. Both kingdoms benefit from our trade."
His father sighed, rubbing his temples. "That was before, son. Before King Aldric of Aurellia and King Theron of Vanyen vanished without a trace. Now their councils are pointing fingers, and border villages like ours..." He trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.
The disappearance of the two most powerful rulers among the seven kingdoms had sent shockwaves through the entire realm. Aurellia and Vanyen had always had their ancient rivalry, territorial disputes, trade disagreements, the usual posturing between great powers, but the kings had kept it civil. Now, with both thrones empty and their councils scrambling for control, that old feud had erupted into something far more dangerous.
"Eat your breakfast," his mother said, placing a plate before him, warm bread, butter, honey, and sliced apples from their small garden. She kissed the top of his head, her fingers briefly running through his white locks. "And try not to worry. We've weathered storms before."
Lewis nodded, taking a bite of bread, though his appetite had diminished. He'd heard the whispers in the village, about increased patrols from both kingdoms, about villages further north that had been "requisitioned" for war supplies, about people disappearing in the night. But surely that wouldn't happen here. Thornhaven had always been left alone, a peaceful pocket between two giants.
"You're meeting with the Hendersons today, aren't you?" his mother asked, clearly trying to steer the conversation toward lighter topics. "About their daughter's mana training?"
Lewis seized the change of subject gratefully. "Yes. Clara's been having trouble focusing her mana into sustained bursts. I think I know what the problem is, she's trying too hard, forcing it instead of letting it flow naturally."
His father chuckled, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "Sixteen years old and already the village's go-to expert on mana theory. We raised a scholar, didn't we, dear?"
"We raised a kind boy with a good heart," his mother corrected gently, though pride shone in her eyes. "The knowledge is just a bonus."
Lewis felt warmth bloom in his chest, not mana, but something simpler and more profound. Love. Belonging. The certainty that he was exactly where he was meant to be, regardless of what storms might be brewing beyond their borders.
After breakfast, he helped his mother clear the dishes, then grabbed his satchel and headed out into the village. The border settlement of Thornhaven wasn't large perhaps three hundred souls called it home, but it was vibrant with life. The village straddled the boundary between Aurellia and Vanyen, and while the rulers might have their ancient feuds turned violent, the people here still tried to maintain their routines, clinging to normalcy like a lifeline.
"Morning, Lewis!" called out Mrs. Petra from her vegetable stall, her weathered face crinkling into a smile that didn't quite reach her worried eyes. "Looking lovely as always, dear boy!"
He waved back, a slight blush coloring his cheeks. "Good morning, Mrs. Petra!"
The market was quieter than usual, he noticed. Fewer travelers from either kingdom, fewer merchants willing to risk the journey. The war hadn't reached them yet, but its shadow loomed large.
Children ran past him, laughing and chasing each other with wooden swords, their small reserves of mana occasionally sparking in bursts of light as they played. Lewis remembered being that age, before he'd learned to control and understand the energy that flowed through every living person. Mana was as natural as breathing, yet as complex as the stars themselves. It determined everything, your status, your occupation, your worth in society. Lewis's mana level was respectable, enough to earn him recognition as a teacher and scholar, though nothing compared to the great mages who served in the royal courts of the seven kingdoms.
He made his way to the Henderson household, a slightly larger cottage near the village square. Clara, a girl of thirteen with auburn braids, was already waiting outside, practically bouncing with nervous energy.
"Lewis! I've been practicing like you said, but I still can't hold the light sphere for more than a few seconds!"
He smiled reassuringly, setting down his satchel. "Show me."
Clara closed her eyes, her face scrunching in concentration. Her hands came together, palms facing each other, and slowly a soft blue glow began to form between them. The sphere of condensed mana flickered and wavered, growing brighter for a moment before sputtering out entirely. Clara's shoulders sagged in defeat.
"See? I'm hopeless."
"You're not hopeless," Lewis said gently, moving to stand beside her. "You're fighting against yourself. Here-" He raised his own hands, and with barely a thought, a sphere of brilliant white light materialized between his palms, steady and bright.
"Mana isn't something you wrestle into submission. It's part of you. It wants to flow. You just have to guide it, like water through a stream."
He let the sphere dissipate, then placed his hand on Clara's shoulder. "Try again, but this time, don't think about holding it. Think about letting it be."
Clara took a deep breath and tried once more. This time, the sphere formed more smoothly, its light steadier. It still flickered, but it held for ten seconds, then fifteen, then twenty before finally fading.
Her eyes flew open, wide with excitement. "I did it! Lewis, I did it!"
"You did," he confirmed, his smile genuine and warm. "You just needed to trust yourself."
They practiced for another hour, and by the end, Clara could maintain the sphere for nearly a minute. Her parents emerged from the house, thanking Lewis profusely and pressing a small pouch of coins into his hand despite his protests.
"You've got a gift, son," Mr. Henderson said, though his expression turned somber. "Though I worry what'll happen to teachers like you if this war gets worse. Both kingdoms are conscripting anyone with decent mana levels." He lowered his voice. "I heard Aurellia's been taking people from villages to the north. Forcing them into labor camps or military service."
A chill ran down Lewis's spine. "Surely they wouldn't- we're neutral territory."
"Neutral doesn't mean much when kingdoms are desperate," Mr. Henderson replied grimly. "Just... be careful, Lewis. Keep your head down."
Lewis walked home with those words weighing on his heart, the afternoon sun now high in the sky but somehow less warm than before. He stopped by the market to pick up some vegetables for dinner, noting how many stalls stood empty, their owners having fled to safer territories deeper within one kingdom or another.
He was nearly home when he heard it.
The sound was distant at first, a rumbling like thunder, but the sky was clear. Lewis paused, his hand on the gate to his family's small yard, and turned toward the eastern road. Other villagers had stopped too, confusion rippling through the square.
Then they appeared.
Soldiers. Dozens of them, pouring into the village on horseback and on foot, their armor bearing the crimson and gold insignia of Aurellia, a bright glowing sun. But these weren't the usual border patrol or trade escorts. These men moved with purpose, with violence in their eyes and weapons drawn.
"Everyone stay calm!" shouted the village elder, old Thomas, stepping forward with his hands raised. "There must be some misunderstanding, we're a neutral settlement-"
A soldier struck him across the face with the pommel of his sword, and Thomas crumpled to the ground, blood streaming from his nose.
Chaos erupted.
Screams filled the air as soldiers began dragging people from their homes. Lewis stood frozen, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. This couldn't be happening. Not here. Not in Thornhaven.
"By order of the Aurellian War Council," a commanding voice rang out, "all citizens with sufficient mana reserves are hereby conscripted for the war effort! Resistance will be met with lethal force!"
"Mama! Papa!" The words tore from Lewis's throat as he dropped his basket and ran toward his house.
He burst through the door to find two soldiers already inside. His mother was pressed against the wall, terror in her eyes, while his father struggled against a third soldier's grip.
"Let them go!" Lewis shouted, mana instinctively surging to his hands in crackling white light.
One of the soldiers laughed, a cruel, harsh sound. "Look, the pretty boy thinks he's a hero. Stand down, kid, or you'll get hurt."
"Lewis, run!" his father yelled, but his words were cut off as the soldier struck him in the stomach.
Lewis lunged forward, releasing a burst of mana that sent one soldier stumbling backward. But he wasn't trained for combat, wasn't prepared for this. Another soldier grabbed him from behind, arms like iron bands around his slender chest, lifting his small frame off his feet with ease.
"No! No, please!" Lewis thrashed, watching helplessly as they bound his parents' hands with rough rope. His mother was crying, reaching for him even as they dragged her toward the door.
"We're taking everyone with sufficient mana levels," the lead soldier announced coldly, his crimson cloak marking him as a captain. "King Aldric may be gone, but Aurellia still needs soldiers and workers. The war with Vanyen demands it. You should be honored to serve."
They were pulling his parents outside now, adding them to a growing line of villagers, Mr. Henderson, Clara, Mrs. Petra, so many others. Lewis fought against the soldier holding him, but the man was twice his size and trained for battle.
"Please," Lewis begged, tears streaming down his face, making his thick eyelashes clump together. "Please don't take them. Take me instead. I'll go willingly, just let them go!"
The soldier holding him shoved him roughly to the ground. "You're not worth the trouble, boy. Too weak, too small, too pretty to be useful. We need workers and fighters, not ornaments. You'd break in a day."
Lewis scrambled to his feet, running after the line of prisoners, but another soldier blocked his path, sword drawn.
"Stay. Down."
He could see his mother looking back at him, her face streaked with tears, mouthing words he couldn't hear over the chaos. His father's eyes were filled with anguish and something else, a desperate plea for Lewis to survive, to not follow them into whatever darkness awaited.
The soldiers began marching the prisoners toward the eastern road, back toward Aurellian territory. Lewis tried to push past the guard, but was shoved back again, harder this time. He fell to his knees in the dirt, his glass-smooth skin scraping against the rough cobblestones, watching his entire world being torn away from him.
"No," he whispered, his cherry-pink lips trembling. "No, no, no..."
Something inside him cracked.
It started as a pressure in his chest, like his heart was expanding beyond the confines of his ribs. The air around him began to shimmer, heat waves rising from his skin. The soldier who'd pushed him took a step back, eyes widening.
"Kid, calm down-"
But Lewis couldn't hear him anymore. All he could hear was the roaring in his ears, the sound of his own blood rushing, his own mana screaming to be released. Every emotion the fear, the helplessness, the rage, the love, it all converged into a single point of unbearable intensity.
His eyes blazed with light, sapphire blue turning almost white, that hint of inner radiance now burning like twin stars.
"GIVE THEM BACK!"
The mana exploded outward.
It wasn't a controlled burst or a focused spell. It was raw, primal power erupting from every pore of his body. White light engulfed him, spreading outward in a devastating wave. The soldier nearest to him was thrown backward like a ragdoll, his armor scorched black. The ground beneath Lewis's feet cracked and splintered, cobblestones shattering into fragments.
Buildings groaned as the wave of energy slammed into them. Windows exploded into glittering shards. Wooden beams splintered and cracked. The very air seemed to scream with the force of it.
Lewis rose to his feet, but he wasn't fully conscious anymore. His body moved on instinct, on pure emotion given form. His fluffy white hair whipped wildly around his face as if caught in a violent wind, the wavy locks moving with supernatural force though the air was perfectly still everywhere else. Mana poured from him in torrents, more than should have been possible for someone of his level, far more than his average reserves should have contained.
The Aurellian soldiers were shouting now, some trying to flee, others attempting to form defensive barriers with their own mana. But Lewis's outburst was too powerful, too chaotic. Another wave pulsed outward, and more men fell, their barriers shattering like glass.
"Mana outburst!" someone screamed. "The boy's having a mana outburst!"
"Impossible! Those are one in a million!"
"Get back! If he goes full corruption, he'll level the entire village!"
Somewhere in the back of his fragmenting consciousness, Lewis knew this was wrong. Knew he was losing control. He could feel something dark creeping at the edges of his mind, whispering that he should let go completely, that he should destroy everything, everyone who had hurt him.
The mana was corrupting him, just like in the old stories. If he didn't stop, he would become something else entirely, a mindless monster driven only by destruction, or worse, he'd burn out completely and be left brain dead.
But he couldn't stop. Didn't know how to stop.
His vision was turning white, his thoughts dissolving into pure sensation. He could feel his mana reserves expanding, growing beyond their previous limits, his body forcibly adapting to contain more power. But at what cost? His slender frame was burning from the inside out, his mind fracturing under the pressure.
"Someone stop him!" a soldier screamed. "He's going to kill us all!"
Lewis raised his hands, and the light intensified, building toward another devastating release. His lips moved, forming words he didn't consciously choose: "I'll... destroy... everything..."
Then, suddenly, the world tilted.
His legs gave out beneath him, and he was falling, falling, the light finally beginning to fade. His body had reached its limit. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was the sky above, clear and blue and impossibly distant, and the faces of soldiers staring down at him with expressions of shock and fear.
Then nothing.
Consciousness returned slowly, like swimming up through deep water.
Lewis became aware of softness beneath him first, a bed, far more comfortable than his own. Then warmth, the crackle of a fireplace somewhere nearby. His body ached in ways he'd never experienced, every muscle screaming in protest as he tried to move. Even his mana felt different, larger, deeper, like a pool that had been forcibly expanded.
His eyes fluttered open to find himself in an unfamiliar room. Stone walls, high ceilings, tapestries depicting battles and heraldry he didn't recognize. A window showed darkness outside, how long had he been unconscious? Definitely not his home. Definitely not anywhere in Thornhaven.
The room was austere but well-appointed, with medical supplies on a nearby table and the lingering scent of healing herbs in the air. Someone had treated him. Someone had kept him alive after his outburst.
He tried to sit up, but his body refused to cooperate. How long had he been unconscious? Where was he? Where were his parents?
The memories came flooding back, the attack, the Aurellian soldiers, the kidnapping, his outburst, and panic seized his chest. He had to find them. Had to-
The door opened, and a figure in Aurellian military robes entered, followed by what appeared to be a healer. They spoke in low tones, examining a chart.
"-remarkable that he survived at all. Mana outbursts of that magnitude usually result in complete neural collapse or corruption. His reserves have increased by at least forty percent-"
"The Council will want him once he's stable," the soldier interrupted. "A survivor of a mana outburst is valuable. We can train him, use him-"
"He's awake," the healer said sharply, noticing Lewis's open eyes.
The soldier turned, and Lewis saw the crimson and gold insignia clearly. Aurellia. He was in Aurellian custody. They'd taken him after all, just separately from everyone else.
"Where are my parents?" Lewis's voice came out as a hoarse whisper. "Where did you take them?"
The soldier's expression remained impassive. "That's not your concern anymore, boy. You should focus on recovering. You're property of Aurellia now-"
"He's property of no one."
The new voice cut through the room like a blade, smooth and commanding. Both the soldier and healer spun toward the doorway, where another figure now stood. This one wore different colors, deep blue and silver, the heraldry of Vanyen emblazoned on their cloak. A crescent moon, elegant and classy.
"What is the meaning of this?" the Aurellian soldier demanded, hand moving to his sword. "This is Aurellian territory, and that boy is our-"
"Your what? Your prisoner? Your weapon?" The Vanyen agent stepped fully into the room, and Lewis could see them more clearly now, tall, elegant, with an air of authority that made the space feel smaller. Their eyes were sharp and calculating. "I think not. The boy is coming with me."
"You have no authority here!"
"I have all the authority I need." The agent's hand moved in a subtle gesture, and suddenly the Aurellian soldier was frozen in place, held by invisible bonds of mana. The healer wisely backed toward the wall, hands raised in surrender.
The agent approached Lewis's bed, and despite his fear and confusion, Lewis found he couldn't look away. There was something magnetic about this person, something dangerous and compelling in equal measure.
"Who... who are you?" Lewis managed to ask.
The agent's lips curved into a smile that didn't quite reach their eyes. There was something predatory in that expression, something that made Lewis's skin crawl despite his weakened state, but also something that promised protection, at a price.
"Someone who's been looking for you, Lewis of Thornhaven. Someone who recognizes potential when they see it." They leaned closer, and Lewis caught the scent of winter pine and steel. "A mana outburst survivor with expanded reserves, living on the border between two warring kingdoms, with no family to protect him anymore. You're quite the prize."
"My family- I need to find-"
"Your family is gone, taken deep into Aurellian territory. You'll never find them on your own." The words were cruel but spoken with an odd gentleness. "But perhaps, with the right training, the right allies, you might have a chance. Vanyen has resources that Aurellia can only dream of."
Lewis tried to process this, but his mind was still foggy, his body still weak. "Why would you help me?"
"Because Vanyen needs people like you. Because the disappearance of King Theron has left us vulnerable, and we're gathering assets for what's to come." The agent straightened, their cloak swirling. "And because I suspect you're far more important than even you realize."
They moved toward the door, gesturing for Lewis to follow, though he could barely sit up. With another subtle movement of their hand, Lewis felt himself being lifted by mana, his body floating gently off the bed.
"Wait- I don't even know where we're going-"
The agent glanced back, and that predatory smile returned, now tinged with something that might have been amusement.
"Welcome to your new home, little outburst."
Lewis tried to speak, to demand answers, to ask about his parents, but his vision was already blurring again. The exertion of consciousness, combined with whatever mana the agent was using to transport him, was too much for his recovering body.
The darkness was pulling him back down, and he was too weak to resist.
The last thing he heard before unconsciousness claimed him once more was that voice, now tinged with satisfaction:
"Rest well. We have such plans for you."
Then the world went black, and Lewis knew nothing more.