The sea whispered to the winds of Markirel Island, a sliver of land adrift in the endless blue. Nestled far from the bustling kingdoms and towering cities, the island was barely a dot on most maps, if it appeared at all. With a population of less than a hundred, mostly elderly, Markirel was a place of silence and simplicity. There were no airships, no castles, no blinking crystal towers, just old stones, wooden homes, and wind-carved cliffs.
But this quiet island had a story. One that began almost twelve years ago, during a storm that split the sky open like an angry god.
Kalim, the village elder, often told the tale. With a voice that wove memory and myth, he'd begin as the sun dipped behind the western cliffs, casting fire-colored shadows on his wrinkled face.
"I remember that night," Kalim would say, sitting on his favorite stone bench beneath the old lantern tree. "Rain heavy as sorrow. Thunder so loud, even the spirits held their breath. And there, beneath the broken statue of the Legendary Seeker, we found him, a baby, crying in the mud."
The villagers had all gathered around that fallen relic, its face long crumbled, its body cracked by storms and time. The Seeker statue, once proud and tall, symbolized the founder of the island, a relic hunter who had supposedly discovered the place centuries ago and decided to stay. No one knew his real name, just that he'd once explored the world beyond.
And there the baby was. No note. No trace of how he got there. Just him. Screaming. Alive.
They named him Zor.
No one could explain his arrival. The nearest kingdoms were hundreds of kilometers away. Markirel had no docks, no ships, no ports. Only a few small boats for fishing. And even then, none were missing.
Zor had simply appeared.
Markirel's world was small. No markets, no schools, no arena matches like in the cities. The island had a few gardens, goats, a windmill that barely worked, and a single communal hall. What it did have was peace and time.
And in that stillness, Zor grew.
Now, on the eve of his twelfth birthday, Zor sat beside Kalim again, legs dangling over the edge of the stone bench. The ocean below sparkled in the sunlight, and a cool breeze carried the scent of salt and sun-warmed leaves.
"Hi, Tang Kalim," Zor said with a grin, using the respectful term islanders used for elders. "Can you tell me more about the Seekers today? You stopped in the middle last time!"
Kalim chuckled, his eyes crinkling like old parchment. "Ah, you never get tired of that story, do you?"
"Nope!"
"All right, all right." Kalim leaned back, eyes drifting toward the broken statue in the center of the village. "Where did we leave off?"
"You said the known world's just a small part of everything," Zor replied quickly. "And that outside the kingdoms, there's… danger."
"Ah yes." Kalim nodded. "You've got good memory, boy. Yes, the known world—that's where we live. Seven continents, seven kingdoms. They govern, protect, and trade. That's the world people are taught about. It's safe… mostly. But it's not the whole story."
Zor's eyes brightened. "Tell me about the unknown world."
Kalim gave him a long, thoughtful look. "You always go for the forbidden bits, don't you?"
"Well, yeah. The forbidden bits are the best parts."
The old man laughed, a deep, wheezy sound like old wind through hollow bamboo.
"Very well. The unknown world makes up more than ninety percent of the planet's surface. Think about that. Our whole lives, our cities, kingdoms, farms—everything—fit into just ten percent. The rest? Unmapped. Untouched. Wild."
Zor leaned forward, utterly still.
"It's said the unknown world is full of beasts, relics, living storms, and forgotten magic. Things that shouldn't exist, but do. Some say there are islands that move. Forests that whisper names. Lakes that freeze time."
Zor's mouth parted slightly. "Can anyone go there?"
Kalim shook his head. "No. Only the Seekers."
"Why not?"
"Because getting there alone takes half a year—on a ship built for monsters and waves as tall as towers. You'll face creatures that eat lightning and winds that tear steel. And that's just the journey. Normal people wouldn't last a day."
Zor swallowed, unsure if it was fear or excitement bubbling inside him.
"Seekers," Kalim continued, "are trained from a young age. They learn about magic, science, survival, history. They choose their field of seeking artifacts, creatures, knowledge, power. Some never return. Some become legends. But they're the only ones allowed to travel into the wild."
"What if I want to become one?" Zor asked, his voice quiet now.
Kalim turned to look at him carefully. "You'd have to leave the island. Get chosen by a mentor. Survive training. Pass the Trials. And even then… the unknown world changes people. Some lose their minds. Others lose everything else."
Zor was silent for a while. Then he asked, "How do you know these?"
Kalim's eyes twinkled. "I've known enough."
That answer, vague and mysterious, only made Zor want to know more. But he knew better than to push.
Instead, he changed the subject. "Is it true there are monsters bigger than houses?"
"Bigger," Kalim confirmed.
"And flying cities?"
"They float, not fly. But yes."
"And weapons that can turn oceans into deserts?"
Kalim didn't answer that one. He simply stared out at the sea.
Later that evening, as the sun melted into the horizon, Zor wandered back toward the statue where he was found. It stood crooked, its neck jagged where the head had fallen off decades ago. Moss grew over the arms. Its hands were open, as if offering something long forgotten.
He sat beneath it, tracing his fingers along the grooves in the stone.
Who left me here?
He had asked that question every year, every birthday, and still no answers came.
Some days, he imagined his parents were Seekers, adventurers who had no choice but to leave him behind. Other days, he wondered if he came from the unknown world itself. Maybe he was a creature of it. A relic. A mistake.
"Tomorrow," he whispered to himself, "I turn twelve."
He looked up at the broken statue of the Seeker its form worn, its features erased by time. Yet something about it still stood proud, as if waiting for someone to pick up where it left off.
Zor stepped closer. The stone felt cold beneath his fingertips.
"I don't know who I am," he said quietly. "I don't know where I came from, or why I was left here."
He raised his chin, eyes steady on the faceless figure before him.
"But one day... I'll find out."
The wind brushed through the trees behind him. The island was quiet, but his voice carried like a promise.
"I'll be a Seeker," he declared, louder this time. "I'll discover who I really am, my name, my family… everything."
He clenched his fists.
"I'll step beyond the edge of this island. Beyond the known world. I'll carve my own path, even if it kills me."
The statue stood silent. Unmoving. Yet in that moment, it felt like it was listening.
"I'm Zor," he said. "The boy without a past."
Then, with the last rays of sunlight painting the sky in gold and red, he added:
"But soon… I'll be a Seeker."