The sky wept ash.
It was not snow, and it was not soot, though it looked like both. The flakes drifted down from a charcoal-colored firmament, twisting
lazily through a still wind. Each one sizzled quietly as it landed—on the
ground, on the broken buildings of the old districts, and on the skin of the
people walking the cracked streets. The ash didn't burn, but it left marks. And
those marks never went away.
At least, not since the Gates fell.
The year was 989 After Ascent. A.A., they called it now.
Nearly a thousand years had passed since the first celestial rupture opened in
the sky above the continent of Veris, and with it came the beginning of the
world's second era—when magic returned.
Not that the return was celebrated. Magic didn't come with gifts or guidance; it came with monsters. With Beasts. With entire Realms stitched into the world like a parasite latching onto a host. Humanity, at first, could do nothing but watch cities fall. Kingdoms collapsed, noble lines died out, and technology stagnated into a fragmented state—half-arcane, half-ruined.
Yet humanity didn't die.
Because something else came through the Gates, too.
They called it The Binding.
A system, of sorts. Not technology, not quite magic. But it gave people… potential. The ability to fight back. To bond with the creatures of the other side. To wield spells, artifacts, and to enter the wild domains of
the world that once belonged to the Beasts.
Those who survived long enough to be chosen by the System were called Bound.
Some bound swords. Others spells. A rare few—the rarest—could bind Beasts themselves.
Those were called Tamers.
"Why are you even here, Ash?" a voice snapped. "You think
they're gonna pick someone from the Ashzone? Dream on."
Ashland Vale didn't flinch. He'd heard it all before.
The other boys and girls gathered at the foot of the pillar stared up at the glowing sigils swirling around the ancient obelisk, carved
from darkstone and humming with faint violet energy. They were all young—no
more than sixteen, most even younger—but each one had the look of hunger in
their eyes. Hunger, and fear.
Everyone waited for the choosing.
The Binding came once a year, and only for those under eighteen who had not yet been Claimed by the System. The pillar, known as the Ashfall Gate, had stood for centuries in the ruined heart of old Emberhold.
Every year, it selected a handful from thousands. Those chosen would become
initiates—allowed to enter the Trials. To seek a Path. To be Bound.
The rest… would return to the ash and the slums.
Ashland didn't reply to the jeering voice. He kept his eyes forward. His arms were crossed, though one was wrapped in a crude cloth bandage. His dark hair was tied back in a frayed strip of leather, and his clothes were half-patched from salvage. Yet his gaze was sharper than any noble child standing around him.
He had no illusions. But he did have one thing.
A promise.
"Someday, you'll be more than this, Ash. Someday, you'll be chosen. You'll stand where they told you not to, and you'll walk paths they'll never reach."
His older brother's voice still rang in his ears, years
after he disappeared inside the Trial Gate and never returned.
Ashland was going to be chosen. He had to be.
The air shifted.
Without warning, the sigils around the pillar flared. One by one, lines of light extended from the monolith like beams, pointing at the youths. Whispers rose. Everyone tensed. This was the moment.
The Choosing.
A beam of violet light stopped on a tall boy dressed in ceremonial silk. He exhaled in relief and dropped to his knees. Another light
landed on a girl with silver-braided hair, whose eyes widened in joy. Then a
third, a fourth, a fifth…
And then—nothing.
Ash waited. Five had been chosen. Last year, it had been six. The year before that, seven. The numbers were falling. The System was being… selective.
Minutes passed.
He clenched his fists. His knuckles cracked.
Please. Just once. Just one time.
The light atop the pillar dimmed. The beams retracted. The
ancient obelisk's glyphs dimmed to an embered glow. Silence stretched across
the plaza.
Then came the murmurs.
"That's it?"
"Only five?"
"They said the number would rise this year…"
"I told you—Ashzone trash doesn't get picked."
Ashland said nothing. He turned to walk away.
But the pillar exploded.
Not in flame, nor in debris—but in a shockwave of violet fire that pulsed out from the base of the obelisk like a pulse. Everyone fell.
Ash hit the ground hard, his ears ringing.
Then he heard it.
A voice. Not from the sky. Not from a god.
From within.
"Unregistered Tether Found…
Compatibility: 89.7%…
Path Unaligned.
Unique Class… detected.
Class Initialization: Pending…
[You have been chosen.]
Path: Primordial Binder
Accessing First Summon…
Initiating Phase One Trial.
…WARNING: Host soul is unrefined. Stabilizing.
Summon Permission: Denied until Trial Completion.
Transporting to Trial Realm."
"What the hell—"
Ashland screamed as a circle of black and violet glyphs
erupted beneath his feet. The ground fell away. The world twisted sideways.
Then he vanished.
[INTERLUDE: SYSTEM ALERT LOG | TRIAL REALM #349-B]
Subject: Ashland Vale
Class: [Primordial Binder]
Race: Human (??? | Veiled Ancestry Pending Reveal)
Soul Score: 73.1
Mental Fortitude: 91.4
Will Alignment: [Undetermined]
Trial Difficulty: Adjusted [S+]
Summon Access: Locked
Trial Objective: Survive. Bond. Overcome.
Countdown to World Integration: 2 years, 213 days.
Ash opened his eyes to darkness.
Not pitch black, but endless shadow—alive, writhing. A sky with no stars, a land of black soil, jagged cliffs, and alien silence. He stood
in a crater of glassy obsidian, heat still radiating from where the portal dropped him.
A deep voice echoed from the dark.
"So. The Binder arrives. And late, as always."
Ash turned.
From the cliffs, a silhouette emerged. Tall. Cloaked in
tattered robes of mist and bone. Its face was a skull of onyx, and in each eye
socket burned twin flames of silver-blue.
Ash stepped back, pulse racing.
"Who—what—"
"I am the Gatekeeper," it intoned. "I test those chosen to
wield the oldest Path. To command what was never meant to be controlled. And
you, child of ash, are my entertainment."
The skeletal figure raised its hand.
A ring of violet flames ignited around Ashland.
"Let us begin."