"Sometimes… you are not born from your mother's womb, but from the ashes of a scream."
A scream that no one heard… except you.
⟡
The sky was raining fire.
Not real fire—fragmented flames fell with every arrow that tore through the chest of the night.
The clash of steel.
The cries of guards.
The trembling earth beneath the hooves of horses.
All blended into the symphony of a black dusk, written in the blood of the innocent.
In the heart of the burning palace, the child Kaislan stood.
Not weeping.
Staring.
His small skull tilted upward, his ashen-gray eyes belonging to no world known to man.
His tiny hands trembled—not from fear, but as if searching for his mother's face among the smoke.
The scream of a woman torn by a blade split his heart… though he didn't know it was hers.
He was only three.
The kidnappers came from the ceiling.
Like shadows sliding from the womb of the wall—silent, faceless, masked in black cloth etched with red markings that looked like letters… yet weren't.
One knelt before him.
"Ashen eyes… and the mark is clear."
His finger traced the boy's neck, over a dark birthmark shaped like an inverted blade, as if carved from ancient flesh.
"It's him. Their child… the pure one."
The boy screamed for the first time.
They didn't strike him.
They didn't silence him.
They laughed.
Cold laughter, like a death song.
Then a black cloth covered his mouth—
And everything ended.
"That night… it wasn't just the nobles who died… Kaislan's name died too."
⸻
[Year One inside the Fallen Shadow Sect]
The child was chained.
Stripped of warmth.
Stripped of feeling.
"What's your name?"
The instructor asked—for the fiftieth time.
Kaislan didn't answer.
Not because he refused—
But because he had forgotten.
A slap.
"If you don't answer… the rats will eat you tonight."
Another slap.
"What's your name?!"
The words came out like blood from a wound:
"…I… have no name."
The man smiled.
"Good. Now you're starting to understand."
⸻
[Age 7 – First Kill]
A dim hall. Two children.
Kaislan… and another, younger by a year.
The overseer handed each of them a knife.
"Only one of you leaves. The other… will never need food again."
The other child trembled, crying, dropping the blade.
Kaislan didn't tremble.
He looked into the boy's eyes.
And in his own eyes… there was nothing.
He raised the knife—
And plunged it in.
No scream.
No hesitation.
When it was over, he sat on the floor and vomited.
It wasn't crying.
It was his body trying to purge what his heart couldn't understand.
⸻
[Age 15 – First Mission Outside the Sect]
"Target: A nobleman.
Weapon: A sword laced with silent poison.
Time: Mid-moon."
He entered the man's chamber, clamped a hand over his mouth, and slid the blade into his chest.
No sound.
"Did you speak to the target?"
The overseer asked.
"No. Death doesn't deserve conversation."
⸻
[Present Day – Age 19 – Mission Hall]
"You have a new target. Young… his name is Elian."
Kaislan's eyelid twitched.
That name… knocked on something inside his memory.
"Is he a child?"
"Yes. Son of the Craid family. We believe they're trying to revive the Purity Council."
The word Craid exploded in his head.
His birthmark burned.
"Am I… from that family?"
But he buried the question.
"When do I start?"
⸻
Deep in his heart, the fire awoke.
A fire that did not kill…
But asked: Who am I? And why was I born?