Rowen's world had always been one of muted colors, a dull palette of grays and browns. He wasn't extraordinary, not in the way his parents were, or his classmates, or even his older brother. While everyone around him had their abilities awakened by the time they turned twelve, Rowen now fourteen, still waited for his. But it never came.
His parents were renowned for their extraordinary gifts. His mother, Zenora, was a weather-wielder, able to summon storms or calm the skies with a mere thought. His older brother, Ryland, had awakened his ability two years ago. An ability to control earth, which made him a big help to their mother out in the fields.
Even his younger twin siblings, Gene and Seras, though still too young to manifest any abilities, were expected to follow suit when they came of age.
And then there was Rowen.
He sat alone at the kitchen table, pushing his food around absentmindedly.
His father, Darius, had already left for his work as a healer. Darius was a man of quiet strength, with the ability to mend even the most grievous injuries, his touch as soothing and powerful as his heart. Rowen always admired him, but the comparison left him feeling even smaller.
His father was a pillar of the community, and Rowen was... just Rowen. His mother Zenora had kissed him goodbye before heading out to oversee the weather patterns in the fields to help with the crops, her eyes filled with pride as she took on another important task. Ryland was out training, so he could be a bigger help to his mom. Rowen's younger twin siblings, Gene and Seras, were still too young to feel the weight of expectation, but Rowen couldn't help but wonder what their future held.
Rowen envied them, in a way. They didn't know the sting of being different, of being left behind.
"Maybe today's the day," Rowen muttered to himself, the words hollow even as they left his mouth. He had said them every day for the past two years, and yet, nothing ever changed.
He sighed and shoved his chair back from the table, standing up. His reflection in the window was as ordinary as always. He had slightly messy brown hair, dull gray eyes that lacked the vibrance his family carried, a body that hadn't even begun to show any physical signs of an ability. Rowen wasn't sure whether to be relieved or terrified by the lack of change in himself.
The sound of laughter drifted from the living room. Ryland was playing with the twins, no doubt showing off to Gene and Seras. Rowen knew they would be mesmerized by it, who wouldn't be?
"Rowen, hurry up!" Ryland's voice called from the other room. "The ceremony starts soon! I know you haven't had any signs, but maybe your powers will show up at the last second!"
Rowen didn't respond at first. The thought of attending the annual ceremony to honor those who had awakened their abilities filled him with dread. His family would be there to celebrate all of the children who were blessed, and Rowen would stand in the back, a silent shadow. His failure would be on full display.
But he knew there was no escaping it.
He grabbed his bag and left the house, feeling the weight of the world pressing down on him as he walked through the village streets. The other children, those who had awakened their powers, walked past him, talking excitedly about their own upcoming demonstrations. There was always a faint pity in their eyes when they looked at him. He didn't blame them; he felt it too. The sharp ache of inadequacy settled deep in his chest with each passing glance.
The ceremony was held in the village square, and it was there that Rowen would once again face the unspoken truth that he was different.
As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the village, Rowen joined his family at the front of the square, standing behind Ryland, who was already chatting with his friends. He could see the high priestess up on the stage, her golden robes shimmering in the fading light. She called for silence, and the crowd complied, the hum of energy building around them as she raised her hands.
"Today," the priestess began, her voice reverberating with divine power, "we honor the children of the village who have awakened their powers. Let them come forth and show us the gifts they will share with the world."
One by one, the children stepped forward. A girl conjured water from the air, sending it swirling around her in a beautiful display. A boy manipulated the earth beneath his feet, causing the ground to tremble with each step. The crowd cheered with every display, voices full of admiration and awe. But Rowen remained still, feeling his heart sink deeper with each demonstration.
And then, it was his turn.
Rowen swallowed hard, stepping forward as the priestess beckoned him. The eyes of the entire village turned to him, and he could feel the weight of their expectations pressing on him like a heavy stone. This was the moment, the moment he could finally show them that he wasn't a failure, that he was more than just the boy who had no ability. He clenched his fists, willing something—anything—to happen.
But nothing came.
The air around him remained still, unyielding. He held his breath, praying for a spark, a sign, but there was only silence. The crowd's collective gaze shifted uncomfortably. The priestess gave him a sympathetic smile, but it only made his chest tighten with shame.
"I—I'm sorry," Rowen whispered, his voice barely audible. His head dropped, and he stepped back into the crowd, his feet heavy with the weight of his failure.
The ceremony continued, but Rowen's mind was elsewhere. He didn't want to see the pity in their eyes. He didn't want to be reminded of the hollow space inside him. He couldn't stand the constant reminder that he was not like the others.
Rowen heard his father's voice behind him, soft but firm. "You did your best, son." Darius had appeared at his side, his presence steady and reassuring, though Rowen could hear the unspoken disappointment in his tone. His father always tried to support him, but Rowen couldn't help but feel the burden of his family's legacy.
Darius placed a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to do it today, Rowen. We're proud of you, no matter what."
Rowen turned to look at him, his father's kind eyes filled with warmth. It was the same look he had always given him, a reassurance that Rowen was loved, even without the power to back it up. But that only made it hurt more. How could he live up to that love if he couldn't live up to the family's expectations?
"I'm not like you," Rowen muttered, shaking his head. "I'll never be like you, or Ryland."
His father's expression softened. "You're more like us than you think. You don't need powers to matter, Rowen. Don't let that define you."
Rowen forced a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll be fine," he said, though the words felt empty.
He turned away from the ceremony, leaving his father and the crowd behind. He needed space, needed time to breathe without the weight of the world pressing on him.
He walked through the village streets, out into the quiet solitude of the forest where he often retreated to escape the harsh reality of his life.
The sounds of the ceremony faded behind him, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the cool breeze that swept through the trees. Here, there were no expectations, no ceremonies, no reminders of his lack of power. Here, he could simply be alone.
His foot caught on something hidden beneath the fallen leaves. He stumbled, catching himself on the nearby tree. With a grunt, he bent down, brushing away the leaves to see what had tripped him.
A small, dark green shard glowed faintly from the ground, but the mental and emotional exhaustion from another day of overwhelming disappointing embarrassment, caused him to overlook what had been the cause of his stumbling.
Rowen found a familiar spot. A large, gnarled tree that had always provided him comfort in times of solitude. The ground beneath was soft with fallen leaves, and he stretched out beneath the tree, letting his exhaustion wash over him.
His body ached, not just from the day's events, but from the burden of his unspoken frustration. He closed his eyes, the quiet of the forest lulling him into a much needed sleep.
But as Rowen drifted off, a faint, unnatural sensation stirred in the air. The shard that had tripped him earlier pulsed with an eerie light, hidden among the leaves not far from where Rowen slept.
A sudden, sharp vibration filled the air, though it went unnoticed by Rowen, still deep in slumber. Slowly, as if responding to some ancient call, the shard began to shift. It trembled on the ground, its glow flickering brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding. Then, with a sudden, sharp pulse, the shard launched into the air, flying straight toward Rowen.
As if magnetized by an unseen force, it hovered above his sleeping form, trembling with energy. Rowen's body shifted slightly in his sleep, but he didn't wake. The shard floated closer to him, the air around him charged with an unnatural energy.
With a soft, almost inaudible sound, the shard sank into his chest, merging with his body in an instant. Rowen's eyes snapped open, wide with shock, but no sound escaped him. The moment the shard entered him, the sensation was overwhelming. A flood of unfamiliar power and raw, uncontrollable energy coursed through him, twisting his very being. His heart raced, his breath quickened, and a cold, insatiable hunger gnawed at the edges of his mind.
A new presence stirred within him, alien yet strangely familiar, like a dark shadow wrapping around his soul. The power inside him was ancient and primal, different from anything he had ever felt before. It was cold, distant, yet filled with an undeniable intensity. The presence spoke without words, its intentions clear: it was a hunger, an endless desire to take, to claim what was not its own.
Rowen gasped for air, his body trembling as the power settled deep within him, swirling around his very core. He clutched at the ground beneath him, but the energy didn't stop. It wasn't his own, not entirely. He could feel the memories of another being. Powerful, relentless, and filled with a deep, insatiable greed.
The presence whispered to him, not in words, but in feelings; dark, overwhelming desires for control, for dominance. And with that hunger, the power of Zoreth the god of greed took root in Rowen's soul.
But before Rowen could fully understand what had happened, his body gave way to the exhaustion of the day, and he collapsed back onto the ground, his breath ragged, his heart racing with the pulse of something otherworldly.
The energy within him simmered beneath the surface, waiting.
And as Rowen drifted back into a deep sleep under the ancient tree, unaware of the god now inhabiting his body, the winds of fate had already begun to shift. His life had changed, and he was no longer the boy who had waited to awaken an ability.
He was now the vessel for something far more dangerous.