The night was suffocatingly silent, broken only by the faint crackle of the fireplace. Atreya sat on the cold stone floor of his room, his back against the wall, staring into the void. His fists clenched until his knuckles turned white.
The events of the day played on a loop in his mind—the expectations, the pressure, the glares of disappointment.
"Why am I here?" he whispered, his voice raw. "Why was I brought to this cursed world if I can't even take a step forward?"
A shiver ran through him as a strange sensation stirred within his chest. It was faint at first, like a distant echo.
And then, it spoke.
"You don't understand yet, do you?" The voice was neither his nor anyone he knew. It was cold, calculated, and impossibly familiar.
Atreya shot up, his eyes darting around the room. "Who's there?"
No answer. Only the eerie hum that grew louder, resonating from deep within him. His breathing quickened, and instinctively, his hand reached for his chest.
"It's not a voice." He gritted his teeth. "It's... me."
Suddenly, a jolt of pain shot through his body, forcing him to his knees. His vision blurred, and for a moment, the world around him faded into darkness.
---
Vision Sequence
He was standing in a void, surrounded by swirling shadows tinged with a dark purple hue. The shadows moved like tendrils, reaching out but never touching him.
"What is this?" he asked aloud.
From the shadows, a figure emerged—a faint silhouette of himself, but taller, stronger, and radiating a power he couldn't comprehend. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural purple light, and its voice echoed like thunder.
"You are not ready."
"Ready for what?" Atreya demanded, his voice shaking but defiant.
The figure smirked, a cruel curve of its lips. "To wield what you truly are. You're still clinging to the chains of your past life. Let go, or you will drown."
"And if I don't?"
The shadows surged forward, engulfing him entirely. The pain returned, searing and unrelenting, as if his very soul was being torn apart.
---
Back to Reality
Atreya gasped as he snapped back to reality, drenched in sweat. The hum was gone, replaced by a faint crackling sound. He looked down and saw it—dark purple energy flickering weakly around his hands, like embers of a dying flame.
"This... this is real," he murmured, his heart racing.
The energy faded quickly, leaving him with more questions than answers. He clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms.
"I won't drown," he whispered, his voice resolute. "I'll find the truth, no matter what it takes."
---
The Next Morning
The training courtyard was alive with the clashing of swords and the grunts of knights sparring. Atreya stood in the center, gripping a wooden sword tightly. His father, the Baron, circled him like a predator, his gaze sharp and unforgiving.
"Again," the Baron commanded, his voice cutting through the noise.
Atreya lunged forward, swinging his sword with all the strength he could muster. His father parried effortlessly, the force of the block nearly knocking Atreya off his feet.
"Pathetic," the Baron spat. "Do you think an enemy will wait for you to figure out how to fight? Do you think they'll care that you're just a boy?"
Atreya gritted his teeth, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm trying."
"Trying isn't enough." The Baron's expression hardened. "You either fight, or you die."
The words hit Atreya like a blow to the chest. His grip on the sword tightened as he steadied his breathing.
"Fight or die," he repeated under his breath.
He charged again, this time with more focus. His movements were sharper, more deliberate, but his father countered each strike with ease.
"You're still hesitating," the Baron said, stepping back. "You're afraid to lose. Afraid to make a mistake. That fear will kill you."
"I'm not afraid!" Atreya shouted, his voice echoing across the courtyard.
In a burst of desperation, he swung his sword with all his might. The Baron blocked, but for a split second, Atreya felt it—the spark. A faint pulse of energy surged through him, into the blade. The impact was enough to stagger his father.
Both of them froze. The Baron's eyes narrowed as he lowered his sword.
"What was that?"
Atreya stared at his hands, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I... I don't know."
"Figure it out." The Baron's tone was stern, but there was an edge of unease in his voice. "Power like that doesn't come without a price."
---
Later That Night
Alone in his room, Atreya replayed the moment in his mind. The spark, the energy—it felt like a part of him, yet completely foreign.
He closed his eyes and focused, trying to summon the feeling again. Slowly, the hum returned, growing louder with each passing second.
Dark purple energy flickered to life in his palm, unstable and chaotic. But this time, he didn't let it fade. He held onto it, feeling its warmth, its power.
"This is mine," he said, his voice steady. "And I'll learn to control it."
The energy swirled and expanded, casting an eerie glow around the room. For the first time, Atreya felt a sense of purpose—a spark of hope in the darkness.
"They'll come for me," he muttered, his gaze hardening. "But I won't let them take what's mine."