Beneath the Crumbling Sky

The day was dying, and so was Kael Arden's hope.

He stood atop the rusted hill overlooking Valaris, a village long forgotten by the world. From this height, the horizon looked endless, stretching beyond the wastelands that swallowed the land in all directions. The crumbling skyline of Valaris sagged under the weight of its past, abandoned towers leaning like drunkards, and houses built for the once-prosperous village now lay hollow and broken.

Kael's breath was ragged, each gulp of air heavy with the scent of ash. The winds here were cruel, kicking up plumes of dust and debris like tiny, invisible demons. He gripped the ancient spear at his side—its tip dull and splintered, more of a tool for scavenging than a weapon of war. His hands, blistered and scarred from years of survival, tightened around it as his sharp green eyes scanned the ground below.

Tonight, something was coming. He could feel it. And so could everyone else.

For weeks now, rumors had crept into Valaris like rats. Whispers of night-raiders, shadowed figures moving through the borderlands, and villages disappearing without a trace. No one had seen the raiders, but their wake was undeniable—towns reduced to nothing but smoldering rubble. No survivors, no bodies.

Kael felt the weight of his responsibility. The village elders, weak and desperate, had tasked him with something they could no longer do themselves: protect the village at all costs. Not that they expected much from him. No one expected anything from Kael Arden.

"Run, Kael," they would always say. "It's what you're best at."

And that was true. Kael had spent most of his life running—from hunger, from bandits, from every impossible situation thrown his way. A scavenger by trade, an orphan by circumstance, he had learned the art of survival through necessity. No family. No legacy. Just Kael and the wreckage of a world that no longer cared for him or anyone else.

But today, something inside him felt different. A sharp, restless energy thrummed beneath his skin, a sense of anticipation, as if the world itself was holding its breath. For as long as he could remember, he had been waiting for something—some sign that life was more than just endless struggle. And tonight, he felt it stirring, like a distant flame flickering in the darkness.

A sudden rustle snapped Kael from his thoughts.

From below, a figure moved through the outskirts of the village—cloaked, swift, and deliberate. Not a villager. The figure was too precise, too graceful, its steps barely disturbing the dust beneath its feet. Kael gripped his spear tighter, crouching low behind the ruin of an old tower.

His pulse quickened.

Was it the raiders? No. This was something else. Something worse.

Without a sound, the figure came to a stop, its hooded head lifting slightly as if sensing Kael's presence. Kael froze. His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, he swore the figure looked directly at him—though from this distance, it seemed impossible.

A low hum resonated through the air, soft at first but growing louder, vibrating through Kael's bones. It was coming from the figure. Something unseen, something powerful. The air around the figure began to ripple, distorting as if the very fabric of reality was being torn apart. Kael's heart raced as a dark, shimmering aura coiled around the stranger.

"Essence..." Kael whispered under his breath. It was unmistakable.

Only those who wielded Essence, the primal energy that coursed through the veins of the world, could manipulate reality like that. Essence-wielders were the legends of old, the rulers of empires, the destroyers of armies. But here? In Valaris?

This was no place for legends.

The figure moved again, this time toward the village center. Kael's instincts screamed at him to retreat, to warn the elders—but something held him there. Some deep, primal urge rooted him to the spot. It wasn't fear. It was curiosity. A burning need to understand what he was seeing, to understand why Essence—a power long thought to have disappeared—was being wielded here, in this forgotten village.

"Kael!"

The shout tore through the night, and Kael's body jolted. From the shadows behind him, Old Meryl, the village healer, hobbled into view. Her cane struck the ground with urgent taps, her white hair wild in the wind. "What are you doing out here, boy? You should be at the barricades with the others!"

Kael glanced back down toward the figure. It had stopped again, now standing just outside the town square, unmoving.

"Meryl," Kael whispered, barely able to tear his eyes away, "there's someone... someone using Essence. Do you see it?"

The old healer followed his gaze, her wrinkled face tightening with disbelief. "By the gods," she muttered. "I haven't seen an Essence-Wielder in over thirty years."

Before Kael could respond, the ground beneath them began to tremble. It wasn't like the rumble of distant thunder, nor the violent quakes of an earthquake. This was different. It was as if the earth itself was groaning, reacting to the presence of something foreign—something it couldn't understand.

The figure below raised its arms, and suddenly, the entire sky darkened. Clouds swirled overhead, faster and faster, until they formed a vortex above the village. A low, unearthly roar echoed from the depths of the clouds, and for the first time in his life, Kael felt true fear.

The Essence-Wielder was summoning something. Something beyond comprehension.

"We have to go!" Meryl tugged at Kael's arm, her voice shaking with urgency. "Whatever that is, it's not human. We need to get to the others, now!"

But Kael couldn't move. His legs refused to listen. All he could do was stare as the figure, now fully enveloped in the swirling Essence, began to rise from the ground. The power radiating from it was overwhelming, suffocating.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the figure stopped. It lowered its arms, the clouds above scattering like frightened birds, leaving the night sky eerily still.

Silence.

For a moment, Kael thought it was over—that whatever had been summoned had passed. But then the figure turned, looking directly up at him.

Its face was hidden beneath the hood, but Kael felt its gaze pierce through him, cold and indifferent. The air around him grew heavy, and for the first time, Kael felt a surge of something deep inside him—something dark and coiled, something that had been dormant for far too long.

The Essence-Wielder raised one hand, and with a flick of the wrist, sent a crackling wave of black energy hurtling toward Kael.

Kael's vision blurred. Time seemed to slow as the dark energy tore through the air. He raised his spear in a feeble attempt to block the attack, but he knew it was pointless.

In that instant, something inside him snapped.

A violent pulse erupted from his core, a surge of heat and light exploding outward, engulfing him in a blinding white flame. The dark energy collided with the flame, and for a moment, the two forces clashed, screaming against each other before dissolving into nothingness.

Kael collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, his body trembling with exhaustion. The white flame flickered, then faded, leaving only a faint glow beneath his skin.

Meryl's voice was distant, but frantic. "Kael... Kael, what did you just do?"

Kael looked down at his hands, his eyes wide with disbelief. He didn't know. He had never touched Essence in his life. He was a scavenger, a nobody.

But now... now everything had changed.