Part- I
(The Unchosen)
The continent of Yastle stretched out in every direction—hills rolling like old blankets, forests thick enough to swallow sunlight, and villages tucked away so deeply you'd think the mapmakers gave up on them out of spite.
In one of those forgotten villages lived a boy named "Aarth Reagan", who ran the dusty roads as if he owned every grain of dirt on them.
"Give it back, Aarth! That's mine!"
Three children chased him, kicking up dust, panting hard.
Aarth laughed, tossing the wooden toy in the air and catching it as he ran. He was small, but built like he'd been carved from something sturdier than childhood. His dark hair snapped behind him as he darted just fast enough to stay ahead, slow enough to keep them angry.
"If you want it," he yelled, "come take it!"
One boy lunged. Aarth slipped aside easily, mocking him by tapping him on the forehead.
"Too slow."
"Aarth!"
A woman's voice cut through the air.
He froze. His mother stood by their cottage door, arms crossed, eyebrow raised. Aarth immediately shoved the toy back into the boy's hands.
His mother shook her head. "Strength's a gift, Aarth. Doesn't mean you get to use it however you want."
He nodded, but he didn't get it. Strength was strength. You had it or you didn't. Why wouldn't you use it if you had more than everyone else?
He wouldn't understand until much later.
---
Three Years Later
By the time he turned twelve, the whole village buzzed like a kicked beehive.
Today was the day.
Every child who reached twelve traveled to the "Eversanct Grove", the ancient forest where magical beasts were born. Every child came back with a beast of their own....always. Even the scrawniest kid got something. A frog on a good day, a glowing beetle on a bad one.
But Aarth?
People whispered he'd get something legendary.
"A lion, I bet."
"No, one of the thunder wolves."
"He'll get whatever he wants."
Aarth pretended not to hear, chin lifted, heart beating a little too fast.
The grove was nothing like he imagined. Light floated in the air like drifting sparks, and the trees seemed alive in a way that made the whole place hold its breath. Then shadows shifted, and the beasts stepped out.
A stag made of fire.
A wolf wreathed in silver mist.
Sprites, frogs, creatures that looked like dreams someone forgot to finish.
The instructor raised his hands.
"Let the choosing begin."
And it did. One by one, beasts approached their chosen children, some racing forward with excitement, others studying their choices before nodding their acceptance.
Soon, every child had a beast.
Except Aarth.
He stood alone in the center of the grove.
A thunder wolf approached first. It stared at him, lowered its head… and backed away slowly, a low rumble in its throat.
The murmurs started immediately.
A phoenix circled above, its wings casting gold over the trees. It seemed to notice Aarth....seemed to consider him, then veered off and vanished into the sky.
Even the frogs hopped in the other direction.
Aarth's throat tightened.
"What… what's happening? Why won't they....?"
No one answered. Minutes dragged by. Then an hour.
And still no beast came.
The instructor's face went ashen.
"Aarth… I'm sorry. None of them chose you."
Something inside Aarth cracked. He ran out of the grove, down the hill, straight home, where he collapsed into his mother's arms like he was nine again.
"They didn't choose me," he whispered. "Not one."
His mother held him close, stroking his hair.
"You are still my son. Magic or not, that doesn't change."
But the world outside didn't share her softness.
---
Part-II
(The Bully Becomes the Bullied)
Children he once teased found their courage overnight.
"Hey, beastless boy!"
"You think you're strong now?"
"Try fighting someone with magic!"
Aarth clenched his fists but didn't swing. Magic made even the smallest kid dangerous. A frog-bonded child knocked him flat once with nothing but a flick of their wrist.
He stopped meeting people's eyes.
He trained alone, punching logs until his knuckles split.
"I'll get stronger," he whispered into the trees. "I have to."
The world had other plans.
---
Part- III
(The Night the World Ended)
Three nights after the choosing, Aarth woke to a thud downstairs. A heavy one. A wrong one.
He sat up, heart thudding against his ribs.
"Mom? Dad?"
Nothing.
He crept down the stairs—and the world tilted.
His father lay on the floor, blood pooling beneath him, thick and spreading. Two masked figures stood over the body, their blades dripping red.
One assassin turned his head.
"The boy."
The other nodded. "Kill him."
Aarth stumbled backward—
A roar shattered the room.
His mother burst in, her magical beast, a massive crystal bear charging beside her.
"Stay away from my son!"
The assassins lunged. His mother threw up a shimmering barrier around Aarth; the world warped like heat over sand.
"Mom!" he shouted.
She grabbed him by the shoulders, her hands shaking.
"Listen. You have to run."
"I can fight—"
She slapped him hard enough to stun him.
"No. You can't. Not tonight. You survive now, so you can fight later."
Tears welled in her eyes.
"Live long enough to avenge us."
The back door blew open behind him.
"Go," she whispered. "Run...Run until your legs break and don't look back."
Aarth didn't want to leave.
Didn't want to abandon her.
But the barrier shoved him out into the cold night.
A heartbeat later—
Her scream tore through the house.
Aarth ran.
He ran until the world blurred, until the dark swallowed everything, until he couldn't breathe.
He never looked back.
He couldn't.
The only thought that was coming in his mind was not about his survival but in his mind..
"Wh...why us..what have we done to deserve this"
He thought his life will end that night but little did he knew, this is just the beginning....
To be continued.....