September 10, 1735
Kayn lay on his bed, his eyes fixed on the wooden ceiling of his room. The shadows cast by the pale moonlight streaming through his window formed abstract shapes between the beams. He tried closing his eyes, but every time he did, his mind filled with images and thoughts that kept sleep at bay.
He considered getting up again, but he had already done so five times. The first time, he opened his wardrobe and began picking out clothes for the next day. The second, he tried reading a book he hadn't finished in a year, thinking it might finally be the right time. However, he grew bored after ten minutes. The third, he went down to the kitchen to grab a snack. His mother caught him and sent him back to bed. The fourth and fifth times, he did push-ups and squats, hoping to exhaust himself enough to fall asleep. All he managed was to end up sweaty.
He wanted to take a shower, but he feared what might happen if his mother heard him.
The sound of his heartbeat echoed in his ears, pounding like the gallop of a runaway horse. He had never felt so nervous—not once in his life. He turned his head, glancing at the clock on his bedside table. It read three in the morning. Despite the hour, sleep eluded him.
Tomorrow would finally be the big day. He had spent his whole life waiting for this moment, dreaming of following in his father's footsteps and becoming a binder. At the age of thirteen, all young humans attempted to form a bond with a spirit known as a guardian. Each year, human villages held a ceremony for this purpose. By coincidence, this year's date also happened to be his birthday, though that was the least of his concerns. He had far more important things on his mind.
Not all humans could bond with a guardian. The chances weren't low, but they weren't high either. Having a guardian didn't automatically make one a true binder, though. Only those who graduated from the prestigious Academy of Binders earned that title. After bonding with his guardian, his father had achieved it, and from what he understood, so had his grandfather. Now it was his turn. He was convinced he would succeed.
Thoughts of what his guardian might be like flooded his mind like an overflowing river. Perhaps a small dog? Or a mighty bear? Maybe a baby dragon? He wondered what form it would take, whether it would be large or small, and what kind of magic it would allow him to wield. Fire? Lightning?
As the minutes passed, his eyelids grew heavier until, at last, sleep claimed him.
Five Years Earlier
A young Kayn, around eight years old, walked through a nearby village with his father. The sun shone high in the sky, and the bustle of the townsfolk filled the air with a symphony of voices and sounds. That day, Kayn had accompanied his father to a bustling village full of merchants—one of the most popular in the region. They were visiting to buy a few things they couldn't find in their own village.
Kayn marveled at every corner of the village, wide-eyed at the abundance of stalls and the tantalizing aromas that filled the streets. Suddenly, his father stopped near a blacksmith's stall, admiring the swords and armor on display.
Kayn, too, was fascinated by the metallic blades that reflected his face when he leaned close. He had always dreamed of owning a real weapon, not the wooden sword he'd had since he was four. He longed for a sharp blade like his father's, though the thought of mentioning it to his mother terrified him. She would probably tell him he was crazy or insist he stop trying to follow in his father's footsteps. But he didn't care.
While he was absorbed in staring at the weapons, his father knelt to his level.
"Kayn, wait here for a moment. I won't be long," he said before heading toward the blacksmith.
The boy nodded, watching as his father walked away. He didn't understand why he had to stay put; he wanted to see the swords up close, too. Still, he obeyed.
As he waited, his eyes wandered to the nearby food stalls. The aroma of freshly baked bread and exotic spices captivated him, making his stomach growl loudly. The last thing he had eaten was the pancakes with syrup his mother always made for breakfast.
However, not far from where he stood, something else caught his attention—something even more compelling than the food: a hunched figure slowly making its way down the street with heavy, labored steps. Chains shackled its legs, and its gaunt face was pale and haggard. The figure wore nothing but a brown sack with holes cut for its limbs.
It was an elf—a slave, clearly.
The elf struggled to drag a heavy cart loaded with goods, all under the watchful and cruel gaze of a man wielding a whip. The slave's skeletal frame trembled with effort, as though each step drained what little life remained in him. Kayn's heart raced as the whip cracked through the air, striking the elf's back and eliciting a pained cry that echoed down the street. Kayn clutched his chest, horrified.
Yet the elf did not stop. He continued pulling the cart, which might as well have been hauled by a horse or a Terracon. Judging by the man's attire, he was likely a noble—few could afford an elf as a slave. Any hesitation or pause earned the elf another, harsher lashing.
"Stop slowing down!" the man barked in a harsh, merciless voice. "I paid good money for you. Elves are supposed to have great stamina!"
The young elf turned slightly toward him, struggling to respond, but his words came in halting breaths.
"Sorry, sir. It's just... I haven't eaten in three days, and... I have no strength left."
His comment only seemed to enrage the man further. The whip rose again, striking the elf's bruised back with even greater force. The elf let out a piercing cry of pain, and Kayn felt as though it echoed directly into his heart.
"What? Are you saying the food I give you isn't enough?"
"No, sir, I—" the elf stammered, struggling to stay upright despite the pain coursing through his body.
The man continued whipping him mercilessly, leaving the elf with no choice but to endure the abuse. His cries of pain mixed with the murmurs of the crowd. Kayn turned away, unable to watch any longer. It was too painful. How could anyone be so cruel?
Even if the elf wasn't human, he was still a person. Kayn glanced around, searching for a sign of indignation or compassion among the passersby. Perhaps they refrained from intervening because confronting a noble would only cause trouble.
That was the moment Kayn discovered the reality of the world.
Everyone there seemed to revel in the elf's suffering. Some walked past, laughing or murmuring, while others stopped to watch as if it were some kind of street performance.
"Well-deserved."
"To think he can't even manage something so simple. Elves really are a pathetic species."
A mix of rage and sorrow overwhelmed Kayn. He felt a knot in his stomach, and his hands trembled. He desperately wanted to help the elf, unable to bear seeing him suffer. Summoning his courage, he took a step forward, ready to confront the cruel man.
Before he could, a firm hand stopped him. Kayn looked up to see his father's serious expression as he held him back.
"Dad? You too?"
Kayn was disappointed. Like the others, his father didn't want to help. No—he was different. He didn't seem to be enjoying it at all. In fact, he looked like he was holding himself back from punching the noble so hard his face would cave in. One hand gripped Kayn's arm tightly, while the other was clenched into a fist so tight that his knuckles had turned white.
"It's best if we leave," his father murmured, his eyes never leaving the cruel scene.
Though it pained him, Kayn knew they couldn't do anything. As much as it hurt, confronting a noble could lead to serious consequences. He cast one last glance at the elf, now collapsed on the ground, unable to endure the weight and lashes any longer. The elf might already be dead. In a way, that would be better than enduring such torment.
Kayn looked away, pain heavy in his chest, and walked away hand-in-hand with his father, leaving behind the noise of the crowd and the man's continued shouting at the elf.
After walking for a while, the voices faded into the distance, but they still echoed in Kayn's mind. They turned onto a quiet street. Kayn glanced at a clothing shop his mother had taken him to so many times he'd lost count.
His father sighed deeply before looking down at him.
"I'm sorry you had to see that."
Kayn knew his father wasn't apologizing for seeing a slave. It wasn't the first time. He had often seen slaves in the streets, carrying goods or running errands for their masters. But he had never seen people enjoying their suffering.
"Why didn't anyone feel sorry for that slave? Was it because he was an elf?" Kayn asked innocently.
His father sighed, nodding with a sadness that reflected in his eyes.
"I'm afraid so. It's because of the hatred that's been festering between species for years. Over time, we've been taught to fear and despise those who are different from us, to see them as enemies," he explained, glancing back before continuing. "The people there didn't see someone suffering; they saw someone they believe deserves it."
Kayn frowned, trying to make sense of his father's words. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't understand it. Why treat someone differently just because they were different? Weren't they all inhabitants of the same world?
"But didn't the war between species end? Wasn't there a peace agreement?"
"Yes. After countless victims and destroyed territories, peace agreements were signed to end the War of Discord. We're free of war for now, but as you can imagine, words written on a simple piece of paper don't erase what's in people's hearts. Distrust and hatred still linger within us. It's not something that disappears easily. What you just saw is proof of that."
"That's not right. Why do we have to hate each other just because we're different?"
His father smiled faintly and ruffled Kayn's hair.
"I'm glad you think that way, son. But unfortunately, not everyone feels the same. For things to change, someone needs to lead the way."
"Then I'll be that someone," Kayn declared with determination.
His father looked at him, surprised by the conviction in his words, before smiling proudly.
"I'll become a binder like you, and someday..." Kayn glanced around until he spotted a stick lying on the ground. He picked it up, climbed onto a nearby rock to match his father's height, and pointed it at him. "I'll put an end to the stupid hatred between all the species."
His father blinked, surprised by his son's resolve, but quickly smirked and started laughing, much to Kayn's annoyance. Just as Kayn was about to hit him with the stick, his father stopped him.
"That's very noble of you," he said, his smile fading slightly. "But you need to understand that some species don't even want to let go of their hatred."
"I don't care. I'll make them see reason once I become the greatest binder."
"Well, to achieve that, I doubt a simple wooden sword will do," his father remarked, pointing to the stick Kayn held, making him blush in embarrassment. Then, his father reached into the bag he carried and pulled out a long sheath. He handed it to Kayn, who noticed it was heavier than expected.
"What's this?" Kayn asked, opening the sheath curiously. Inside, he found a sword blade—not wooden, but steel. The metal gleamed so brightly it reflected his astonished face. "A sword... Is this for me?"
"Happy birthday," his father said, affectionately ruffling Kayn's hair. "I wanted to give it to you at home, but now seemed like the right moment."
Kayn realized then why his father had approached the blacksmith's stall earlier. That must have been why he didn't let him tag along.
"Thank you so much! I promise I'll take good care of it," Kayn exclaimed, hugging the sheathed blade with enthusiasm.
"Well, we'll need to make your training tougher if you want to be the greatest binder."
Kayn hesitated, momentarily averting his gaze.
"There's no need to rush, I think..."
His father burst into laughter and patted him on the back.
"Come on, let's head home. Your mother probably has lunch ready."