Astis Zelrez, a boy stepped off the bus and onto the frosted pavement, his breath rising in short, visible puffs. Layers of warm coats weighed on his small frame—an oversized coat, a woolen scarf wound high over his chin, thick gloves tugged tightly over numb fingers. Still, the cold pierced through everything. It wasn't the kind of cold that disappeared after a few steps, but the kind that crept in steadily, sinking past layers of fabric to settle in his bones.
"I should have stayed back home. It's so cold."
"One more gust of wind and I'll turn into a popsicle. Just add juice."
Around him, the street lay quiet, the late afternoon light thin and pale against the sky. His boots made soft crunches in the hardened snow as he began the short walk home.
"I don't want to get sick, but I also don't want to go to school. The first thing I want to do is get inside and sink into my cozy, warm bed."
He thought, his mind drifting to the comforts of home.
Strangely, the gate to his house stood ajar, swinging slightly as if someone had rushed through it.
"Hmm, is Mom home?"
Astis wondered, a thrill coursing through him.
"Great! I wanted to borrow some money from her to buy novels."
Excitement surged as he shrugged off the cold and stepped through the open gate. As his home came into view, the garden sprawled on either side, blanketed in a thick layer of snowy white, sparkling in the winter sun. Unable to contain himself, he sprinted across the snow, laughter bubbling up at the crunch beneath his boots.
Reaching the front door, he was met with disappointment as he found it locked.
"Huh, yup, my luck truly sucks,"
He muttered, gazing forlornly at the door, a weight settling in his chest.
He quickly rummaged his hand inside his backpack, searching for the door key. After a tedious search that lasted about a minute, his fingers finally grasped the cold metal shank of the key.
Pulling it out, he inserted its bit into the keyhole of the lock. With a satisfying turn, a soft clank echoed in the stillness, alerting him that the door was unlocked.
"Hah," he murmured to himself, feeling a momentary sense of relief. However, just before stepping inside the house, he turned his gaze slightly sideways and spotted a small kitten on the snowy ground, its frail body covered in wounds.
"Villa."
He blurted out in a surprised tone, heart dropping at the sight. Without a moment's hesitation, he ran toward his beloved pet, scooping it up in his arms. The little cat was breathing heavily, each breath labored and shallow, the severity of its injuries evident.
"What happened to you, my friend?"
He whispered, panic clawing at his insides.
Tears began to spill down his chubby cheeks as he held Villa close, warmth radiating from his body, offering comfort amidst the chilling cold. He dashed into the house, desperation fueling his every step, thoughts racing as he focused solely on saving his pet.
Once inside, he placed the trembling kitten on the couch in the living room, blissfully unaware of the bloodstains that would soon mar the fabric. In that moment, Villa's pain was all that mattered.
"Stay here for a while, Villa. I will save you,"
He promised with a shaky breath, words filled with determination.
Astis bolted toward his foster mother's room, flinging open the door and searching through drawers until he found the first aid kit. He grabbed the box tightly, its familiarity providing a sliver of hope. Hasting down the stairs, he could hardly contain his anxiety.
As he reached the bottom of the staircase, he froze, spotting a woman kneeling beside the injured kitten. She murmured something softly to herself, her voice barely above a whisper. The sight of her filled him with both confusion and hope. She wore a crisp navy blazer over a cream blouse, perfectly paired with tailored slacks and low-heeled leather pumps. Her blonde hair neatly tied in a soft bun, exuding an air of quiet confidence and poise.
"Mom, ah, you are home,"
He said, jolting forward with a glimmer of hope igniting within him. Surely, with his mother here, Villa would be saved. That was the thought that consoled him, even if he wasn't aware of it.
However, his mother didn't open her eyes right away. Astis watched, heart pounding in his chest, anticipation mingling with fear. When she finally did look up, something magical, something marvelous happened before his very eyes.
A liquid-like purple flame erupted from her body, flowing with an almost sentient grace toward the dying kitten. The vivid spark of flame engulfed the fragile creature, and for a brief, terrifying moment, it seemed as though the flame had consumed it entirely. But as the fire receded, relief washed over him—the kitten remained unharmed, its breath steady and eyes blinking softly.
The scene was all too familiar. His mother, a user of Yai, was said to specialize in healing—or at least, that was her claim. To Astis's knowledge, she had never healed anyone else before.
There was a time when Astis himself doubted her. But that skepticism dissolved swiftly, shattered by one desperate incident that nearly claimed his life. Rumors had spread quickly—he was beyond saving, missing limbs torn from his body. Yet, when his mother heard the news, she had rushed to his side without hesitation.
It was then that he saw it for the first time—the radiant, mysterious purple spark of flame.
That flame healed him fully. Even the severed limbs reattached as if by miracle. But by nightfall, they left their home behind, fleeing the Belt forever.
After those few fleeting seconds, the flame finally diminished, signaling the end of her treatment—as fragile and ephemeral as hope itself.
She had used Yai, a magical energy source which are used to twist the logics and likes according to the user's wish. Yai was an energy source used by the Great Pillars to unite 169 Realms during Great Genesis Era. The energy was mystical and embedded in roots of existence.
Astis stared in disbelief as his foster mother turned to him, a wave of urgency flickering in her eyes.
"Bring me a piece of cloth to cover him up,"
She instructed, her voice tinged with concern.
For a few fleeting seconds, he remained frozen in place, struck by the sight of the scruffy kitten nestled against her, its tiny face a mixture of relief and vulnerability that eased his mother's furrowed brow.
'You rarely act like a child your age; seeing this side of you feels quite pleasant,'
She thought, suppressing a soft chuckle.
"Astis," she called gently, bringing him back to the moment.
Startled, he blinked.
"Ah, sorry, um, is he alright?"
His gaze fell upon the kitten, a pitiful creature drenched in snow and blood, and his heart sank.
His mother let out a resigned sigh, her fingers brushing through the kitten's matted fur.
"He'll die of cold if you're any more delayed. At least bring me a towel."
"Ah, sorry! I will get one!"
Without another thought, he dashed up the stairs, his small feet pattering against the wooden steps. As he hurried, a thought crossed his mind: a surge of gratitude for the love and care his mother had shown him. He wanted to ask her for the novels he longed to read, but hesitated, knowing she didn't want to spoil him too much.
"Now then, nobody saw me, right?"
She murmured something softly to herself, her voice barely above a whisper over the sound of Astis' hurried footsteps.
Later that night, as warmth enveloped the space, Astis gently washed Villa in soothing water, resting beside him on the bed, where the kitten purred softly. The tension of the day melted away, and he felt a sense of normalcy wash over him.
Yet, as he bathed the kitten with care, he couldn't ignore the stark reality of a long, jagged scar that marred its belly.
'Come to think of it, the gate was open too. Did someone barge in?'
A shiver ran down his spine, the weight of the unknown pressing heavily upon him.
The dappled flames of the hearth cast flickering shadows on the walls, and a desperate wish tugged at his heartstrings.
'If a being, any being, exists who could grant me a wish, I would ask to be the true son of my mother.'
Astis, adopted as a toddler, had been born without the coveted Sigil that his mother wielded with grace. In his eyes, the flame she summoned was a beacon of hope, a promise of potential.
'Or at least grant me a Sigil similar to hers,' he thought, his determination hardening.
He wasn't gifted in Yai or intellect, yet his heart brimmed with ambition. Despite countless failed attempts to acquire a Sigil of his own, the sting of disappointment had shaken him deeply.
Little did he know that fate had something extraordinary and horrifying voyage in store for him. Everything would change in the blink of an eye when he performed an ancient ritual, one that would set him on a voyage he could scarcely imagine.