The next morning, Coker didn't wake up feeling strong.
He woke up feeling scared.
His eyes snapped open, chest tight like ropes were wrapped around it. Sweat stuck to his skin. The dream the fire, the blood, the glowing eyes was still burning behind his eyelids.
He sat up slowly. His hands were shaking.
It wasn't a nightmare. Nightmares fade before you even wake up. This stayed. It sat in his bones like a curse that had finally noticed him.
He turned his head toward the small mirror nailed to the wall. The glass was cracked. His reflection was blurry, broken. He rubbed his eyes, then squinted at himself.
"Huh," he whispered, shaking his head. "Is that me?"
He didn't look different. Same messy hair. Same sharp eyes. Same boy that never got picked, never got chosen, never got called anything but "useless."
But something in his face looked older. Or maybe just more tired.
And the voice…
"I am your punishment."
He could still hear it. As clear as if it had been whispered right in his ear.
He didn't know what it meant. Who was being punished? And why him?
He stood up. Stumbled a little. His legs felt like they weren't fully his yet.
Outside, the village was waking up. He peeked through the wooden shutters.
Birds flapped over the rooftops. A woman was hanging clothes on a line. Kids were chasing a bouncing orb of light magic through the dusty street.
It all looked normal.
But Coker knew better now.
Nothing was normal.
---
He left the house before Mina could see him. He didn't want her to worry. Didn't want to lie.
He walked toward the edge of the village, near the old shrine, near the broken wall where the voice had spoken to him.
His feet moved on their own, like they were pulled.
His mind was spinning, stuck between fear and fire.
On the way, people stared.
They always stared.
Whispers followed him like shadows.
"Still no magic?"
"Three times and still nothing?"
"Should've left already."
"Keep your kids away. Bad luck sticks."
Coker kept walking.
His shoulders were tense. His fists were clenched. Not from anger—just from holding everything in.
But each word dug into him. Not like knives.
Like little teeth.
He turned a corner—and slammed right into someone.
Drell.
Of course.
"Watch it, Rankless," Drell said, grinning like a wolf.
Coker didn't move.
Didn't blink.
Drell stepped closer, chest out, red cloak fluttering slightly in the breeze.
"Well, well," he said, circling him. "Look who's still breathing. I thought you'd crawl into a hole by now."
Coker's eyes followed him but his mouth stayed shut.
Two of Drell's usual followers leaned against the wall, watching.
"I heard you ran away after the ceremony," Drell said. "What happened? Did the stone get bored of rejecting you?"
No answer.
"You scared of the truth now?" Drell smirked. "Even your sister's got more magic in her pinky finger than you."
That one stung.
Coker blinked slowly. His voice was calm, but sharp.
"You talk too much."
Drell stopped pacing.
"What?"
"I said… you talk too much."
A moment passed.
Then sparks snapped from Drell's hand.
"I should melt your face right now."
Coker took a step closer.
"Do it."
His voice didn't shake.
Drell hesitated.
"Go on," Coker said. "Burn me. Let's see what happens."
The sparks in Drell's hand flickered, danced… then weakened.
For a second, he looked confused. Maybe even scared.
One of his friends spoke. "Let's go, man. He's not worth it."
Drell stared at Coker like he was seeing something new. Something dangerous.
He stepped back.
"Whatever," he muttered. "You'll be dead soon anyway."
They left.
Coker stayed there.
Still.
Breathing hard.
But not from fear.
From something else.
A heat. A hum. A pressure in his chest.
Like something inside him was… waiting. Watching. Wanting out.
---
He didn't go home.
He wandered.
Through old roads and empty fields, past broken fences and forgotten wells.
He passed the house where an old man used to give him soup as a kid. The man had died last year. Now the house was quiet, crumbling, swallowed by weeds.
He stopped by the river, watched the water flow past.
His reflection stared back at him.
He didn't know if he still recognized it.
A bird landed nearby.
It stared at him.
Didn't chirp. Didn't fly away.
Just stared.
He stared back.
Then it blinked once and flew off.
Was it watching him? Was everything?
---
Back at home, Mina was waiting.
"You're late," she said, hands on hips.
"I went walking," Coker replied.
"You always go walking."
He sat down. She gave him a cup of soup. It wasn't much, but it was hot.
She looked at him, serious.
"You've been weird lately."
"I'm always weird," he joked, but his voice was flat.
"Coker," she said, staring. "Are you okay?"
He wanted to say yes.
Wanted to protect her from what was really happening.
But he couldn't lie this time.
"I don't know," he said.
She reached over and held his hand.
"You will be."
---
That night, Coker climbed up to the roof again.
He sat on the edge, legs dangling into the cold air.
He liked it up here. The world looked smaller. Quieter.
The stars were above him, blinking slowly.
But they didn't feel far anymore.
They felt close.
Like they were watching.
He opened his hand.
It looked normal.
But he felt it.
A hum.
A quiet pulse.
Like a heart beating in a different world.
He closed his eyes.
And saw fire.
---
In the dream, he stood in a ruined city.
The sky was black. The buildings were ash. The ground was cracked like dry skin.
Screams echoed in the distance.
He walked slowly. Each step crunched bones under his feet.
Ahead, he saw a figure.
A man made of smoke and light.
Coker knew it was him.
But not as he was.
This version of him had no fear. No pain. No doubt.
His eyes glowed white.
His hands held a weapon made of starlight and broken chains.
Fire wrapped around his shoulders like a cloak.
He turned and looked at Coker.
"I am not your chosen one," he said.
The ground cracked.
The sky shattered like glass.
"I am your punishment."
---
Coker woke up gasping.
His hands were glowing.
Faintly.
Soft orange light danced across his fingers.
Then—gone.
His heart thundered in his chest.
His breath shook.
The power wasn't sleeping anymore.
---
Far beneath the mountain, in a place no one dared go…
The chains were broken.
The seal was dust.
And the shadow that once slept had risen.
It smiled.
"The world called him trash," it whispered.
"But trash burns.
And fire never forgets."