In the vast emptiness, Caius drifted, his mind floating in a space without anything. Time had no meaning here, a place where light and dark were the same, and where being alive felt like a strange contradiction. He had been stuck here for thousands of years—or maybe more, maybe less. He couldn't tell.
Once, he was a powerful Mage, a man with unmatched strength and dreams in the land of Westeria. People respected him, kings asked for his advice, and everyone feared his power. But that was a long time ago, before his quest for ultimate knowledge brought him to this place, this jail between worlds. Now, all that was left of him was a weakening mind, a hint of who he used to be.
Even in this empty space where time seemed to have left him behind, Caius hadn't lost hope. He had spent what felt like forever thinking about his past and the decisions that brought him here. He couldn't afford to feel sorry for himself anymore, but he still had a strong will, even if it was weak.
Then, one day—or maybe it was just another moment in the endless space—a light showed up. At first, it was just a small shine in the forever dark. But it got brighter, slowly at first, then quicker, until it was a strong light cutting through the emptiness. Caius could feel its warmth and energy, and something inside him woke up—a forgotten hope.
The bright light surrounded him, enveloping his ghostly shape like a warm hug. It was a power he had never experienced before, both soothing and overpowering. He felt himself being drawn towards it, pulled out of the emptiness and into something fresh, something full of life.
As the light grew stronger, Caius felt his awareness start to break apart. Memories from his previous life came rushing back, mixed with feelings he hadn't had for a very long time. His heart—if he still had one—started to beat again, first slowly, then faster and stronger. It was like his spirit was being born again.
And then, with one last flash of brightness, the light completely took over him.
Enderun was a quiet village, surrounded by the gentle hills of the Landika Plains. As the sun started to come up, it gave a soft, golden light to the cottages with thatched roofs and the wheat fields moving softly in the wind. It was one of those mornings that made you feel everything was okay in the world.
Zin Maverick raised his arms over his head as he left his small, simple house. The air was cool, making him feel energized. He took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of fresh soil and early morning moisture. Life in Enderun was straightforward, but it was a happy life.
"Zin, you're up early?" His mom called out from inside the house. Soon after, she came outside, her long reddish-brown hair shining in the morning sun. Even though it was early, she was already dressed and had a simple apron on.
"I couldn't sleep," Zin confessed with a shy smile. "I guess I have a lot on my mind."
His mom gave him a sympathetic look. "Today's the awakening ritual, right?"
Zin nodded, his smile fading a bit. "Yes. I just... I can't stop thinking about it. What if I don't get a good rank?"
His mom put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Zin, no matter what rank you get, your dad and I will always be proud of you. You have a kind heart, and that's more valuable than any magic in the world."
He smiled at her words, but they didn't help to calm the nervousness he felt in his stomach. The awakening ritual was a very important day for every young person in Westeria, the day they found out if they had magical abilities. Zin had always wanted to be a strong mage, just like the heroes in the stories his mom used to tell him. But now that the day had arrived, he only felt scared.
"I know, Mom," he said quietly. "I just… I want to make you proud."
His mother's face became kinder, and she hugged him. "You already have, Zin. You already have."
The town square in Enderun was very busy when Zin and his parents got there. People from all over the village had come together, excited to see the special ceremony. The feeling of excitement was strong as the older leaders of the town, wearing special clothes for the occasion, got ready to set up the important circle in the middle of the square.
Zin's dad, a strong man with a nice face, patted him on the back as they walked up. "This is the moment, son," he said with a smile. "Today you'll discover your true strength."
Zin managed to smile, even though his heart was racing. He looked around at the other young people gathered in the square, all waiting for their chance to enter the circle. Some seemed thrilled, others anxious, but everyone was excited to find out their magical abilities.
The elders called out the first name, and a young girl stepped forward, her hands shaking a little as she entered the circle. The crowd watched quietly as the ceremony started, a gentle light surrounding the girl while the elders recited old spells. Moments later, the light brightened, and the girl was covered in a glowing blue aura.
"A Tier Three Mage!" one of the elders declared, and the crowd burst into cheers. The girl smiled proudly as she left the circle, her friends hurrying to celebrate with her.
Zin's stomach twisted as the ceremony continued, with each young person being given their rank one by one. The tension in the air grew with each passing moment, and Zin felt his nerves getting worse.
Finally, his name was called.
"Zin Maverick!"
He swallowed hard and stepped into the circle, his legs feeling like they might collapse under him. The elders started their chant, and Zin closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart. He felt the warmth of the ceremony's magic surround him, the light getting brighter with each passing second.
But then something went wrong.
The light near him wavered, flickering like a flame about to go out. The elders' chants grew weaker, and their voices showed doubt. Zin opened his eyes, puzzled, but all he saw was a faint, dim light—not like the bright auras around the others.
One of the elders moved closer, looking serious. "Zin Maverick," he started, his voice filled with sorrow, "you have been labeled as a Zero-ranked Mage."
For a moment, Zin couldn't understand what was said. Zero-ranked? The lowest level? But that couldn't be right—there must be a mistake. He wasn't a Zero. He couldn't be.
The crowd murmured in shock, and Zin felt their eyes on him, filled with pity and disbelief. His parents stood frozen, their expressions unreadable.
A Zero-ranked Mage was as good as magicless, a failure in a world where magic was everything. It was a fate worse than death for someone who had dreamed of greatness.
Zin's vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. His dreams, his hopes—all shattered in an instant.
That night, Zin lay in bed, looking at the ceiling, his thoughts a mix of sadness and confusion. He had always been brave, full of energy and excitement. But now, it all seemed pointless. What was the use of any of it if he couldn't use magic? How could he face everyone without any powers?
As he was half-asleep, he felt something unusual. It was like someone else's voice was softly speaking in his mind. The words were quiet, like a faraway sound, but they made Zin's heart beat faster.
"Don't be sad," the voice said softly. "This is just the start."
Zin's eyes suddenly opened, but the room was empty and quiet, except for the sound of his own breath. He sat up, feeling his heartbeat in his ears. Was it just a dream? A thought from his mind?
But deep inside, Zin knew it was something more.
And as he lay back down, the words kept coming back to him, again and again.
This is only the beginning.