Five children walked through the forest that afternoon, their laughter echoing between the trees. The sunlight spilled through the canopy in golden shards, and the air smelled of pine and dew. Their faces were full of smiles, the kind that only children could make, when the world still seemed vast and filled with mystery.
At their age, everything was an adventure. Even the flutter of butterflies or the scurrying of squirrels could stir their hearts with excitement.
Then they stopped.
A huge boulder blocked the dirt path ahead, and both sides of the road were thick with poison ivy. There was no way around it.
Before anyone could complain, one of the older children, a boy of about twelve, with jet-black hair and sharp crimson eyes, stepped forward. Without a word, he placed his hands beneath the rock. His muscles tensed, veins rising along his arms. Slowly, impossibly, the stone began to lift.
Gasps filled the air.
The boulder must have weighed at least five hundred kilograms(1102 lb), but the boy hoisted it up as if it were no heavier than a backpack and tossed it aside.
"Wow! That was awesome!" shouted the youngest of the group, a six-year-old boy with tousled blond hair and bright green eyes.
"Sylar, how did you do that?" cried another boy, about a year older, his dark hair falling into his wide, astonished eyes. The two stared at Sylar as if he were a hero out of a storybook.
Before Sylar could answer, the tallest of the group, a lanky boy with unruly brown hair and a grin too big for his face, clapped him on the shoulder. "Hah! Tomas, Arthur, you two are new to the orphanage, so you don't know yet. Sylar's one of the gifted, he's got Ancient Genes!"
Bryan's voice swelled with pride as he went on. "I once saw him lift a small car! That's why I made him my right-hand man."
Sylar gave a quiet laugh and shook his head. He was used to Bryan's bragging and too kind to correct him.
Not everyone was amused, though. The only girl in the group, a white-haired child with golden eyes, crossed her arms and frowned. "You're the only one who calls him that, Bryan."
"Come on, Joi," Bryan groaned.
But she smiled at Sylar before looking back at the others. "Besides, Sylar's not just strong. He's smart, too. He can read those big science books the adults don't even understand."
Bryan scoffed, waving a hand. "Hmph. Who cares about brains? Brawn's what really matters!"
The younger boys ignored their bickering, still staring in awe at Sylar.
The Ancient Genes, the term scientists used for the mysterious trait Sylar possessed, were legendary. They allowed certain people to perform feats that defied logic. Some said the genes were remnants of an ancient civilization far more advanced than the world today.
Archeologists still unearthed strange machines from that lost era, relics of impossible technology, machines so old and broken that no one could repair them.
The Ancient Genes were the only living trace of that forgotten age. And they were rare, appearing in barely one person out of every five hundred thousand.
"Wait," Tomas said suddenly, his voice small. "If you have Ancient Genes, Sylar… why are you still in the orphanage? Wouldn't the grown-ups want to adopt someone special like you?"
Bryan and Joi fell silent. Their faces tightened with something complicated, sadness, maybe, or fear.
Sylar only smiled. He crouched down to meet Tomas's worried gaze and gently ruffled his hair. "I'm happy here," he said softly. "The people at the orphanage are my family. I don't need a new one."
The tension dissolved in an instant. Bryan laughed awkwardly. Joi exhaled. And soon enough, smiles returned to their faces as they continued down the forest path.
"Come on!" Joi said brightly, running ahead. "The bunnies are just up ahead!"
At their age, there was nothing more exciting than cute, fluffy animals. The others followed her eagerly, their laughter echoing once again through the trees.
But when they reached the clearing, the laughter died.
The sight before them froze their blood.
Blood soaked the grass. The air was thick with the stench of iron and death. A large coyote stood in the middle of the clearing, its fur matted red as it tore a rabbit to pieces. The carcasses of others lay scattered around it, limp and broken.
Tomas whimpered. Arthur clutched his sleeve. The horror in their eyes gave way to tears.
Only Sylar remained calm. He exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable, and stepped in front of the others.
He was about to pull them back and leave when he felt a small tug on his sleeve.
It was Joi.
Her golden eyes shimmered with tears as she pointed to a wounded rabbit, the one the coyote had tossed aside but hadn't yet killed. The tiny creature was still breathing, trembling weakly.
If they left now, it would die in agony.
Sylar met her gaze and saw nothing but innocent kindness there, that unshakable compassion children carried before the world taught them to harden. He sighed softly as he stroked her head.
Bending down, he picked up a rock from the ground, testing its weight in his hand. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he threw it.
The stone moved like a blur, cutting through the air with terrifying speed. It struck the ground right in front of the coyote, blasting a small crater into the dirt. The beast yelped, startled, and bolted into the forest.
For a moment, there was only silence, broken by the sound of the children's shaky breaths.
"How good it would've been if you hadn't missed and struck that beast's head!" Bryan shouted, his voice trembling with exhaustion. He glared into the trees where the coyote had vanished, his anger masking the fear still clinging to him.
Sylar shook his head. "I didn't fail," he said quietly. "The coyote was only searching for food. There was no cruelty in its actions, only survival. There was no reason to kill it."
The others fell silent at those words, too young still to understand.
Sylar walked forward to where the wounded rabbit lay. The small creature trembled, its breaths shallow, its fur matted with blood. Sylar knelt beside it, his expression calm but somber.
After a brief pause, he placed a hand behind its head and pressed gently. The animal's trembling stopped, and the light in its eyes faded peacefully.
He exhaled softly, then began digging a small hole beneath a nearby tree. One by one, he gathered the rabbits and laid them inside with quiet care.
"This will be their grave," he said. "Their bodies will return to the earth and feed this tree. In time, new life will grow from them."
His voice was calm, almost soothing. The words, simple as they were, helped ease the shock that had frozen the others. Tears still fell from their eyes, but now they were silent, listening.
Sylar turned and rested a hand on Joi's shoulder. "Are you alright?" he asked gently.
The girl wiped her tears and nodded.
Sylar smiled faintly and looked back at the group. "Let's go home."
They nodded and began the slow walk back to the orphanage, their laughter replaced by quiet reflection.
The world they lived in was called Arcade, and their homeland, Amatist, a small country beset by border wars and unrest. The endless fighting had created countless orphans like them.
Yet even those human struggles were nothing compared to what was coming.
Above the skies of Amatist, white storm clouds began to form, moving faster than any natural wind. They swept from one edge of the country to the other, as if searching for something… or someone.