A distorted figure stood at the edge of the abyss, the world around him rippling like a black hole.
The sky—once a tranquil dome of light—was now an expanse of swirling darkness, flecked with dying stars.
The air was oppressive, thick with a suffocating heat that pressed down on him like the weight of unseen hands.
Beneath him, the ground crumbled into ash, disintegrating with every passing second. It felt as though the very world rejected his presence, as if it could no longer bear his weight.
"I had no choice," he muttered to himself
The words rang false even to him. A choice had been made—one that fractured everything he had known. A mistake, perhaps. It had been necessary.
.
..
...
"The light of this world had died, and so had he."
...
..
.
The gentle glow of dawn crept into a modest room, casting soft golden hues over its sparse furnishings. A young man stirred, his eyes fluttering open to meet the first rays of sunlight as they spilled through the worn shutters.
He lingered for a moment, staring out of the small window of his room in the inn, watching the sun's first rays dance over the hills.
He dressed quickly, pulling on a loose tunic and well-worn boots, and tied his hair back with a strip of cloth. The city was already awake when he stepped outside, the chatter of merchants and clatter of wagons filling the air. To most in Aelthyn, this was just another morning. To him, it was another day to wonder why he had never truly belonged.
His name is Seryth, and today is his 17th Birthday.
He is no ordinary boy, though he longed to be. His fiery red hair and pale, ashen skin marked him as otherworldly, and the piercing orange of his eyes often unnerved those who met his gaze.
But even then, his hair had marked him as different as no one else in the world was born with a vibrant red hair similar to his. The elders bragged that it was a gift from the gods, a sign that Seryth had been chosen for something great.
That belief had turned to disappointment when he failed to discover any awakening in him.
Everyone was born uniquely connected to a specific star, known as Guiding Stars. This star represents their personality, strengths, and destiny. The bond is believed to be a gift of cosmic harmony, meant to guide them through life and offer them protection.
Celestial protectors gifted humanity with the Radiance—a force that bridged mortal souls to the cosmos. Through their Guiding Stars, individuals could awaken extraordinary abilities, shaping radiant energy into tools, healing wounds, or inspiring others.
These gifts were seen as a reflection of balance and harmony, proof that humanity was deeply loved by the stars above.
But for Seryth, the stars were silent.
He had never awakened the Radiance. Not during his childhood struggles, not during his worst moments of despair. While others his age displayed glimpses of their Guiding Stars—creating dazzling constructs of starlight, healing small injuries, or projecting radiant illusions—Seryth felt nothing.
They began to look at him differently, their gazes filled with both disappointment and disgust .
People whispered about him behind his back, calling him the "Abandoned one" or the "Failed child," as though he were cursed.
"The stars don't forget their children. They're just… waiting for the right moment."
"You'll find it one day, lad," Merin had told him just last night, her voice kind but weary. She was the innkeeper who had taken him in as a young boy, treating him like one of her own.
But how much longer could he wait?
"Hey, birthday boy!"
Seryth turned to see Emrys approaching, his grin as bright as ever. With sun-bleached hair and a carefree demeanor, Emrys was everything Seryth wasn't—confident, loud, and seemingly unbothered by the weight of the world. He had been Seryth's closest friend for as long as either of them could remember.
"Another year older, huh?" Emrys slapped Seryth on the back. "Still no glowing powers? Maybe your Guiding Star's taking a nap."
"Thanks for the encouragement," Seryth muttered, rolling his eyes.
Emrys laughed. "Come on. You know I'm just messing with you. Besides, you're too obsessed with it." Emrys said, slapping a hand on his shoulder.
"The Radiance doesn't make you who you are. Look at me—I've got no glowing powers, and I'm doing just fine!"
"That's cause you're a con artist," Seryth shot back with a faint grin.
"Details, details," Emrys laughed, nudging him. "Come on, lighten up. It's your birthday, after all."
Seryth smirked, Emrys's words had a way of lightening even his darkest moods. Together, they made their way to the market square, where the day's work awaited them.
Despite Emrys's teasing, Seryth couldn't help but let his mind drift back to the Radiance. He'd read every book he could find on the subject, listened to countless stories from travelers who spoke of Guiding Stars blazing to life during moments of clarity, triumph, or despair.
Each tale painted the Radiance as a blessing, a harmonious exchange between humanity and the stars.
But for Seryth, the Radiance felt like a cruel lie.
The memories of his childhood haunted him. His mother's whispered words about the Guiding Star, her frantic attempts to teach him about celestial harmony even bestowing him a pedant before vanishing into the night. The years spent alone, scraping by on the streets of Aelthyn, clutching the pendant like it was his last connection to her.
And then there were the dreams.
For as long as he could remember, the dreams had plagued him—visions of stars burning out, of the heavens collapsing into darkness. He would wake drenched in sweat, the pendant around his neck blazing with a faint, unearthly glow. He had told no one about the dreams, not even Merin or Emrys. They felt too strange, too dangerous.
Deep down, Seryth feared there was something wrong with him.
By the time the sun set over Aelthyn, the market had quieted, and the day's labor was done. Seryth found himself sitting by the harbor with Emrys, their legs dangling over the water as they watched the faint glow of stars reflecting on the waves.
"You ever wonder if the stars are watching us?" Seryth asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"All the time," Emrys replied. "I like to think they're rooting for us. Like big, shiny parents in the sky."
Seryth chuckled, though his thoughts remained heavy. If the stars were watching, why had they abandoned him? Why had his Guiding Star refused to answer his call?
As night fell and the stars blazed more brightly, the pendant against his chest began to hum faintly. Seryth froze, his hand instinctively clutching it. For a brief moment, he felt a flicker of warmth, a faint connection to something vast and incomprehensible. He clutched it tightly, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. For a moment, he thought he heard a voice—soft, distant, and echoing from some place beyond the stars.
And then it was gone.
He exhaled shakily, his thoughts racing. Was this the beginning of his awakening, or just another cruel trick of fate?
Unbeknownst to Seryth, the stars above shone brighter that night, their silent gaze fixed on him.
[TO BE CONTINUED]