The night had finally faded, but the dawn brought no comfort. Sunlight crept hesitantly over the horizon, pale and weak, failing to pierce the heavy unease in Zeroth's chest. Sleep had been a stranger—he had tossed and turned, feeling the same unseen weight that had followed him since Kaelor first appeared. It pressed against him like a living thing, patient, judging, constant. He could not name it, could not understand it, yet he did not resist it.
"Every decision… has its own consequences."
The words repeated in his mind with a rhythm like a heartbeat, relentless and unavoidable. He clenched his fists. If every decision carried only suffering, then was coming here a mistake? Had he doomed himself the moment he agreed to follow Kaelor? He wanted to forget, to turn back, to wish away the consequences—but the memory of his mother's calm, warm smile anchored him. He could not. He would not.
Even in the gray, uncertain morning, one vision haunted him: a fragment of a dream from the night before, a face he could not place, familiar and alien at once. His chest tightened at the memory. Then, faintly, he heard a whisper, thin as smoke, curling around the edges of his mind:
"If you want evolution… hate yourself to the point of it."
He shivered. He tried to brush it off, to dismiss it as a lingering nightmare. But instinct told him it was more than that—something real, waiting, patient, unblinking.
A knock at the door made him start. Kaelor's voice, calm but sharp, called through the small room.
"Are you awake, Zeroth? Today, you will learn the basics of magic."
"I'm awake," Zeroth said, voice trembling but resolute. "And you better not hold back."
Dressed in his soiled, threadbare clothes, he followed Kaelor outside. The morning air was crisp, filled with the scent of dew and stone, foreign and alive. They made their way to the training grounds, a wide courtyard of uneven stone, shadows stretching across its cracked surface. Zeroth's heart raced, not from fear alone, but from anticipation, from the sense that today would change everything.
"You know… we're like two sides of the same coin," Kaelor said, a smirk playing at his lips.
Zeroth frowned. "What do you mean? You're strong. I'm… nothing."
Kaelor's eyes darkened. "I am a guardian in a clan where precision is everything. Every movement, every strike, every defense… measured, calculated, controlled. And yet… my magic is uncontrollable. Ruthless. Unfit. That is my curse, Zeroth."
Zeroth hesitated. "And yet you survived. You're still strong enough to be a guardian."
Kaelor's expression hardened, shadows deepening across his face. "I am the weakest guardian. The one everyone mocks, bullies, never takes seriously. And yet… I refuse to remain weak. I dream of power, untouchable, unchallenged. And that is why I am here. Day one… is always the hardest. Remember that."
He began his instruction.
"Magic is not a tool," Kaelor explained, voice low and deliberate. "It is an extension of your soul. Aggressive people create fire, calm people summon wind, the wise command stone. The relentless bend water. Magic flows from your heart, your mind, your will. Only those with unshakable determination can master it. You can want it, desire it… but without will, you are nothing."
Kaelor studied Zeroth carefully, noting the tension coiled in the boy's body, the fear and hunger, the fragile defiance. He continued, "Close your eyes. Seek the deepest corners of yourself. What do you see? What do you want? Focus. Draw it out. Make it flow through your body, release it into the world. This is the Magic Extraction. Once done… your magic binds to you, shaping who you are. There is no second chance. No turning back."
Zeroth obeyed. Slowly, he sank into himself. The courtyard fell away. The air thickened. Time slowed. A strange silence pressed into him from all sides. One minute passed. Two. Then five. His mind roamed, searching, hesitating, finding nothing. Empty. Hollow.
Then a spark. A memory. His mother's voice, soft, yet firm: "Another time, another life."
Even in this state, where thought and logic should have been suspended, the words cut through. And then, everything came.
Where others might see glory, desire, or ambition, Zeroth's heart revealed only darkness. Screams. Agony. Blood. Endless suffering. And worst of all, his mother, chained and tormented, dragged through horrors too vile to describe. His chest constricted. His stomach turned. The ground beneath him seemed to shift.
The air thickened, oppressive and raw. Black thunder cracked above him, jagged and chaotic. Stones split and cracked. Kaelor froze, his eyes widening in disbelief. Even the most powerful magicians had never triggered such an Extraction on the first attempt. Fear rose in Kaelor's chest—but he could not intervene. Zeroth was beyond control, a storm in flesh and blood, fueled by anguish and unyielding will.
Then, as suddenly as it began, it ended.
Zeroth collapsed, trembling. His body was drained, yet intact. The courtyard bore the scars: scorched earth, shattered stones, a silence that pressed down like a tomb. Kaelor knelt beside him, hands trembling. How could a ten-year-old child wield such force? How could suffering alone birth something so terrible?
Even in sleep, Zeroth's mind would not rest. Dreams came like torrents: voices cruel, harsh, unrelenting.
"You are weak."
"You cannot protect your mother."
"Your desires are cruel."
"Give up now… before it is too late."
"Consequences… consequences… consequences…"
"Fate… Fate… Fate…"
Tears streamed down his face, soft whimpers escaping him. And yet, beneath the chaos, one voice persisted, soft, familiar, warm:
"Another time… another life…"
It wrapped around him like a lifeline. A tether to something beyond pain, beyond suffering, beyond understanding. For the first time, he felt it—the faintest glimmer of hope.
And though he could not yet understand it, he knew this was only the beginning. A seed had been planted in the soil of darkness and suffering, one that would grow into power, despair, and the unrelenting trials of fate.