In the city of Gorgath, when a child turns ten, they are taken to the Bonding Square. Everyone gathers to witness it the day each child receives their beast. The moment is everything :Life changes after that.
The altar is carved from the ancient bones of a mountain titan, down deep in the center of the city. The priests wear white beast-leather robe. The crowds sing, and music plays from woodflutes and drums. A little blood. A little light. Then, if the child is chose, the altar responds.
The child's beast bursts into existence in a flash of color and cry. The spirit mark burns itself into their skin chest, palm, or forehead, depending on the bond. And then the cheering begins. The child is no longer just a child. They are a beast master.
Some summon fire cats, sleek and proud. Others call wind serpents that coil through the sky. One girl in the East District even birthed a frost mantis with blades as long as her arms.
They all had something. Some were weak, some were strong. But all were chosen.
Coker wasn't.
He stood on the altar three years ago, bare feet cold, heart full of fire. His blood hit the stone. He waited.
Nothing.
No light. No beast. No sound. Only the eyes of the priest, looking at him like he'd spilled piss on sacred ground.
"Next," the priest had said, without even lifting his pen.
Since then, Coker was "the beastless one." That's what they called him in the streets. "The mistake." "Cursed-born." Even the orphans who ate dirt mocked him. Some people wouldn't let him walk on their side of the road.
He stopped going to the market. Stopped talking to anyone. There was nothing left to say. He wasn't angry. Not anymore. Just tired.
He lived now in a crumbling brick shed near the Beast Graveyard, where old beasts went to die or where failed eggs were discarded. He spent most days watching others train in the distance. Fireballs, wind blades, stone skins—all the magic the bonded ones got. He had none of it.
But he still trained.
Coker punched trees until the bark wore down. He ran until he coughed blood. He screamed into the wind until his voice broke. Why? He didn't know. Maybe because even if the world threw him away, he didn't want to throw himself.
Some nights, he'd dream he had a beast—something shadowy, something massive. It never had a shape. Just long claws, horns, and eyes that stared forever. In the dreams, he wasn't weak. He was unstoppable.
Then he'd wake up. Alone. Again.
The people believed if you didn't bond by ten, you never would. Beast souls only chose the young. That's what they said. But Coker was thirteen now, and he wasn't ready to stop believing.
He didn't care if it was stupid. He didn't care if he was the only one left waiting. He just… couldn't give up. Not yet.
Coker's thirteenth birthday came cold and dry. The skies over Gorgath were grey, and the mountains wore a ring of clouds like a crown. But no one remembered his birthday. Why would they? No one came. No one spoke his name.
He sat on the edge of the cliff where old beast eggs were thrown away. Some were cracked. Some were shriveled. All of them were useless. Like him.
His stomach grumbled again. He hadn't eaten since yesterday morning. The last bread crust he stole had mold on it, but he ate it anyway. Hunger made everything taste the same.
He picked up a broken egg. It was deep red, with black veins running through its surface. Probably a failed flamebeast. It was still warm.
Strange.
He dropped it quickly and wiped his hands on his shirt.
The wind shifted.
Coker looked up and saw something he hadn't seen before—a black mist curling from the base of the dead altar. No one used it anymore. The city built a new altar in the east tower. The old one had stopped working a hundred years ago. They said it was cursed. That a demon once tried to bond there.
Coker stood slowly.
The mist thickened.
It didn't move like smoke. It moved like it had direction. Like it was searching. The moment it reached his feet, he felt his skin crawl. But not from fear. From... familiarity.
He took one step. Then another. And another.
He didn't know why, but his legs wouldn't stop moving. The closer he got to the altar, the louder something inside him got. A drumbeat. A voice. Something ancient knocking on the walls of his mind.
By the time he stood before the altar, the mist was already wrapping around him like fog with claws. The stone trembled beneath his feet.
And then—it happened.
The altar cracked.
Lines of dark energy shot across its surface like lightning under glass. The stone began to glow—not gold or silver like the others he'd seen. But deep, oily black.
Coker reached forward without thinking.
The moment his fingers touched the altar's surface, his heart stopped.
Literally.
One beat. Two. Then silence.
His vision turned white. His body floated. He wasn't in the mountain anymore. He wasn't anywhere.
Then came the voice.
"You were not forgotten…"
It wasn't a whisper. It was a presence. A pressure. It didn't speak through sound. It spoke through his blood.
"You were hidden. Sealed. Until now."
A jolt hit his spine. Symbols flashed across his vision—spirals, claws, teeth, eyes. His bones bent. His muscles cracked. He screamed, but there was no air to scream with.
"Do you still want power, Coker?"
He didn't speak. He just thought: Yes.
And the beast answered.
The mist surged into him like a tide.
Coker's knees buckled, his hands clawed into the altar as if it was the only thing holding his body together. Black fire raced through his blood, crawling under his skin like it was alive. His mouth opened in a silent scream as something deeper than pain began to reshape him.
He wasn't burning. He was changing.
His shadow… twisted.
It peeled away from the ground slowly, like it had its own will. It stretched behind him, taller than a house, rippling and shivering like liquid darkness. At first, it had no form. Then it grew horns. Then claws. Then wings. It stood over him like a god not meant for this world.
The voice returned—louder, clearer, no longer a whisper in his head.
"You do not summon a beast… You become the gate."
Coker gasped, eyes wide. He looked down at his arms—black veins glowing faintly under his skin. Symbols carved themselves across his chest like glowing tattoos, as if something ancient was writing itself into his flesh.
"You are not the master. You are the vessel."
"The first Shadowbound."
Then came the final moment—the Bonding.
The shadow leapt forward and struck him like lightning. The impact shattered the stone beneath him. The ground split. A blast of black energy exploded across the mountain. Trees bent. The wind howled.
And Coker… was gone.
Silence.
Then breath.
Slow. Deep. Alive.
Coker opened his eyes.
He was still himself… but not.
The air felt heavier around him, like it was pressing against his skin. His senses were sharper—he could hear insects crawling in the dirt a hundred steps away. The world looked different—brighter and darker at the same time.
His shadow moved on its own. It snarled without sound, and when he raised his hand, it raised a claw.
Coker fell to one knee, panting. His heart raced. But he was smiling.
He didn't get a beast.
He became one.