I sat quietly on a little rock, though calling it "little" was once unimaginable. Long ago, this stone had been mighty—a towering monument in its prime. Yet years of merciless turbulence had eroded it, smoothing its edges into a solemn, flattened perch. Its once-proud surface was now a mottled grey, streaked with delicate veins of moss that softened its gloom with a touch of green warmth. The midday sun burned overhead, its heat unbearable, but the shaded earth clung to the rock's cool underbelly like an old friend.

With a weary sigh, I rose to my feet and plunged into the embrace of the forest—the place I now called home. Towering oaks loomed like ancient sentinels, their creaking branches whispering forgotten secrets. The dense canopy above blotted out the sun, plunging everything below into a shadowy abyss. Leaves rustled with menace, swiping at me as I passed, while the roots twisted underfoot, as though the very forest resented my intrusion.

I walked alone, as I had always done. Memories clawed at me with every step, heavy as chains. The day my parents learned I had no gift—the day my fate was sealed—flickered like a cruel mirage in my mind. I was twelve when they tried to kill me. No one stopped them. Why would they? I had been marked—a child of sorrow, a curse among the noble bloodlines. From silk-lined halls and jeweled banquets, I was dragged into the dirt, my name erased, my presence unwelcome.

"Fend for yourself," they said, shoving me into the black maw of the forest. So I did.

For four years, I survived. It wasn't graceful, and it certainly wasn't noble. Hunger gnawed my bones thin, cold winds scraped my skin raw, but I lived. Sixteen now, I was eligible—barely breathing, but alive—to enter the Royal Academy, as decreed by law. Survival was compulsory for every child. After the demons razed our lands and reduced our kind to whispers, the Academy was built. The discovery of gifts—powers granted to the lucky few—had turned the tide of that war.

Now, it was our turn to fight. Or die trying.

The forest grew restless as I walked, its shadows thickening with each step. I finally stumbled upon the river, the one constant in this unpredictable world. Its waters raged as if alive, blue currents writhing like serpents, their echoes bouncing across the trees. Droplets of cool water kissed my face, shocking me from my daze, their touch so refreshing that a quiet moan escaped me—a rare gift on a day so cruel.

I sank to my knees, my bones protesting as the jagged stones along the riverbank pressed into my flesh. With trembling hands, I scooped the icy water, letting it spill over my cracked lips. Each sip was salvation, quenching a thirst I hadn't realized was so dire.

Once satisfied, I fell back onto the earth, staring at the slivers of sky above. My ribs, so sharp beneath my skin, ached with every shallow breath. I must have looked ghastly—a hollow-eyed wraith, my brown curls tangled into knots, my dry skin stretched over a frame ravaged by hunger. A living ghost. A monster.

Then the river fell silent.

The absence of its roar jolted me upright. My gaze snapped to the water, which only moments ago had been turbulent and alive. Now it lay still. Unnaturally still. Not a ripple marred its surface. It was as though the entire river had forgotten how to flow.

I crept closer, my heart hammering in my chest, and peered into the glassy water. A glow flickered deep in its depths, faint at first, like a heartbeat waiting to rise. Then it pulsed. Once. Twice. Brighter and brighter, the glow seared my eyes until I was forced to blink.

From the water, something emerged.

It pierced the silence, rising like a specter—a creature born of shadow and light. Its small body was cloaked in pale, glistening scales that shimmered with an eerie radiance. Four delicate, clawed legs carried it as it hovered just above the water, as if gravity were beneath its notice. Then came the head—a curious blend of beauty and monstrosity. It had the soft features of a foal, but its eye sockets glowed white-hot, void of pupils. Wings—two fragile appendages like paper-thin silk—unfurled from either side of its head, beating soundlessly, casting ghostly ripples across the water.

It was small, yes, but there was strength in its simplicity. A strength that curled in the air around it like a living threat.

Its gaze found me.

I froze, breath caught in my throat as those glowing eyes pinned me in place. My mouth fell open, and before I understood what was happening, the creature shot toward me—straight into my gaping maw.

I choked, my body convulsing as I clawed at its tail. My hands grasped nothing but mist as it slithered deeper into me. I screamed—an ugly, guttural sound—raking my throat raw. My knees hit the earth, my body twisting, writhing.

"Get out!" I rasped, my voice tearing. I scrambled to the river, desperate to see what had become of me.

The water mirrored my reflection—a hollow-eyed boy, dirt-smeared and gaunt. My brown eyes were wide, wild, as though trying to escape my skull. My mouth hung open, trembling, my breathing shallow. And then it hit.

Pain.

A white-hot agony exploded in my chest, tearing through every nerve. I collapsed onto my side, my screams falling silent—suffocated by sheer helplessness. Tears poured down my face, mingling with the blood that I coughed up in broken spurts. My hands found my arms, scratching at the skin, tearing at it, desperate to rip away whatever it was that now lived inside me.

My body convulsed violently. My vision dimmed. Blackness swallowed the edges of the world, pulling me down, deeper and deeper, until I was consumed by a dizzying, endless void.

My last thought—before the darkness claimed me—was that death would be a kindness.

And kindness had never been meant for me.