The tombstone leaned to the side like it had given up trying to be proud.
Poison ivy and moss smothered most of the stone.
A cold breeze passed, tugging at my sweater hat.
I stood still, hoping to feel something — sorrow, anger, anything.
But the wind just slipped through me like a midnight ghost.
I ran my finger across the name embroidered in the cold stone.
Amara Solen.
My mother.
I never met her, but sometimes it hurts like I did.
I wondered if it was normal
For a son to stand at his mother's grave
And feel nothing but questions.
Maybe that's the mother-son connection people talk about.
Or maybe I just want it to mean something.
I wondered if it was normal
For a son to stand at his mother's grave
And feel nothing but questions.
I bent down and pulled away the weeds.
I searched for her
Hoping for a face, a voice, a reason.
Instead, I found a grave.
Why did she leave me alone in this cold world?
"Do mothers care for their children?"
I asked the wind.
Some soft, broken part of me hoped it would answer.
But it didn't.
I stood there stagnant.
A pale white butterfly landed on my shoulder.
It crawled to my hand.
I raised it, carefully.
I closed my fingers , just enough to trap it.
I felt it tender wings against my hand as it tried to escape.
I let go.
It staggered, then flapped away.
I sighed
I didn't watch where it went ,
I turned and walked away.
Behind me, it glitched once —
Then disappeared.
"Kael," the teacher said.
I looked up.
The whole class was watching me like I'd just dropped the cure for cancer.
"Would you like to share your thoughts with the class?"
I stared out the window.
The trees moved, shedding red flowers. Everything was too green. Too calm.
"Nature is beautiful," I said.
Detached.
They started clapping.
The teacher wiped a tear.
Like I was Einstein reborn or Shakespeare's lost cousin.
I blinked at my hand.
It was empty.
"That was beautiful, Kael. Surely the System chose a worthy foe."
"He's so dreamy," the girls giggled. "I hered he never found her mom , apparently she died "
"Poor thing, after searching for 3 years . If I could I'd adopt him", they giggled again.
I excelled in everything they placed before me. People called me gifted, talented — a prodigy.
But I never believed in such things.
Maybe it's because even the gifted have to bleed if they hope to shine as bright as the sun.
I thought that as I executed a clean cross-foot dunk, slipping past my opponent like wind through cracks.
"It must be nice to be a prodigy like him. I've never seen him without a smile," one of my teammates murmured.
"Kael, I… I know you're busy and everything," a girl stammered, "but I was hoping we could maybe catch lunch this weekend… if you don't mind?"
The fiftieth one this week.
All beautiful, I'll admit.
But love… I don't think I'm capable of that feeling.
Maybe I never received enough oxytocin from my mom. Maybe none of us did — maybe the whole family missed out.
I woke up one morning with only a name and a headache.
Nothing else.
No memories, no clues, just me.
I was said to be the systems child.
And yet I felt lonely. Like Adam in Eden.
Except Adam had God.
The System doesn't love its children.
It sees love as a waste of time, it makes humans weak and vulnerable.
It built us through obedience and respect, and I've been a good boy for all I know . It adopted me so it the least I can do right?
I offered one of my trained smiles — the emotional kind , and turned her down gently.
But as I walked away, something cracked inside me. The mask I'd worn for so long felt like it was turning to dust.
After school, I used a ditore — a forbidden side tunnel they built for System outcasts. No cameras, no watchers.
I sighed.
And this time, it wasn't a teenage sigh. It was an old man's. One of those aging, dying sighs.
I let my face relax. My jaw hung. My shoulders slumped.
The ten bags beneath my eyes sagged with ten more, stacked from sleepless nights.
No more smiles. Just… emptiness.
I stood beneath the old bridge — the one at least 500 feet above the forgotten ground.
Wind whipped past my body. I closed my eyes and leaned forward, just a little.
For a moment, I imagined it —
Letting go.
I stood there gazing at the sunset . The bridge respond with a thud as it crumbled.
This wasn't my lucky day huh? I thought as I fell.
And suddenly, the weight on my back lifted. A boulder I didn't know I was carrying rolled off my spine.
The cold breeze passed through me as I fell. For once I felt free.
I almost…
I almost managed to smile.
Then suddenly—
everything was white.
A blinding, endless white.
No sky , ground but,
Just… stillness. Like the world had stopped breathing.
And me—
trapped in the center of it.
Then she appeared.
A woman wrapped in a soft orange glow. Like a candle in a storm.
She smiled, and the ache in my chest sharpened.
I didn't move. My limbs felt like stone.
I didn't dare speak. My voice might crack.
"How big you've grown, my son."
My lungs forgot how to breathe.
Before I could respond, her hand brushed my cheek — warm, tender, like a memory I never had but always longed for.
Her eyes — glassy, crystal, ancient — held more love than I knew how to handle.
"My son," she whispered, "I'm sorry… for taking your life away. I only wanted to protect you."
The words stabbed something I didn't know was bleeding.
Protect me?
From what?
From myself?
From the truth?
Her gaze didn't waver.
"But this… this isn't coincidence," she said. "It's fate."
What is she talking about ?
I wanted to scream. Ask her why she left. Why she never stayed.
But her eyes…
They looked straight into me — past the pain, past the questions, past the boy I was pretending to be.
"Pick the red gate, my son. Be strong."
She paused.
"I wish…"
Her voice cracked like glass.
And her form began to crumble.
"No—wait—MOM!"
My voice finally broke free in desperation. "Don't leave me!", my voice cracked in tears as I shouted.
Tears blurred my sight. I reached out, but all I felt was cold.
"I love you," she whispered as the last of her scattered into light.
She became a butterfly — orange at first, then darker… darker…
Black wings.
It fluttered upward, shedding a trail of glowing dust like dying stars.
I chased it.
Touched it.
And the world collapsed.
Darkness.
Then—two buttons hovered before me like choices in a game I never wanted to play.
Blue: Continue to your original destination. Become royalty and the systems full child.
Red: Sector 234. Join the army.
A timer blinked: 00:30
I froze.
My mind spun.
Blue.
Comfort. Power. Purpose.
A life where people bowed when I walked by. Where I could forget all this.
Forget her.
Forget myself.
But is that who I am?
Would I be safe? Or just caged with velvet chains?
Red.
War. Blood. Pain.
A path that meant I'd never be the same again.
Was this bravery? Or madness?
I didn't know. I couldn't tell what was real and not, I wondered why the system was doing this to me. Had I disobeyed it by giving up on something as overated as life?
I thought as I glanced at the timer.
The timer ticked down.
10...
9...
8...
I moved toward the blue.
Then stopped.
Then reached for the red.
My hand shook violently.
I didn't want this.
But I couldn't run from it either.
3 seconds left.
Then—
A shadow passed behind me. Cold. Silent.
An arm draped over mine, like death tucking in a child.
It tapped my trembling finger.
Click.
The red button lit up.
And a voice—soft, dark, almost proud—whispered,
"Fly, my little raven."
The world shattered.