⚔️ Chapter 3:
The morning sun of Nirath never truly rose. It lingered low in the sky, a pale, coppery orb, casting the streets of Velis Sol in long, trembling shadows. The rain from last night had left the city streets slick and shining, reflecting the neon glow of conduits and street lamps. Steam rose from grates as if the city itself were exhaling, a living, breathing organism beneath the twin moons that now hung motionless in the sky.
Kairu Ryoku moved silently through the narrow alleys of the lower district, his hood drawn tight over wet hair. The faint glow of the mark on his hand pulsed rhythmically, barely visible beneath his sleeve, yet heavy with silent weight. Every footstep seemed amplified in the quiet — the wet soles of his boots whispering across the cobblestones.
He avoided the crowded markets and the hovercraft lanes where merchants and citizens had begun their day, but even in the bustle, he felt the prickle of unseen eyes. Spirits, lingering like mist. The whispers from the mirror still haunted him, threading through his thoughts.
The first incident happened without warning.
A gang of street bullies, familiar faces from his childhood, cornered him near a canal lined with black stone and glowing veins of Etherlight. Their laughter was cruel, echoing off the walls, bouncing through the narrow passage like shards of broken glass.
"Look who's here," one sneered. A scarred boy with bright copper eyes stepped forward, fists clenched. "Thought you could hide your freak powers, Ryoku?"
Kairu's chest tightened. His hand itched beneath the sleeve. The mark burned faintly, responding to his rising fear. He tried to back away, but the alley gave him nowhere to go. The bullies' shadows stretched unnaturally in the copper light, merging with the lingering mist from the canal.
And then, it happened.
A shape flickered behind him — a shadow within shadows, dark as a void but trembling like liquid. Raviel's presence, faint but undeniable, surged outward.
The bullies froze, their laughter catching in their throats.
Kairu felt it in his chest: a pulse, a pressure, a scream of energy from somewhere deep inside him. His heart pounded in perfect rhythm with the Etherstorm coiling within. And without understanding how, his hands shot out.
Chains of silver light erupted from his palms, wrapping around the alley in a flash of brilliance. The glow reflected in the canal water, throwing ripples of fear across the gang's wide eyes.
One of them — the scarred boy — screamed, not as a warning, but as his blood suddenly boiled within him. The mark on Kairu's hand flared, and the chains tightened like living steel, lifting the bullies off their feet. The alley became a cage of shimmering silver.
And then one fell.
Copper eyes wide, mouth open in shock, he hit the ground with a sickening thud. Crimson bloomed across the wet cobblestones, dripping into the canal. Kairu froze, his breath caught in his throat. He hadn't meant to… he hadn't wanted…
Raviel's whisper reached him, faint but steady, like ice in his veins.
"Control, Kairu. Not destruction. Not yet."
But the other boys were paralyzed by terror. The alley smelled of rain, wet stone, and something darker — the first taste of his own uncontrolled power.
The city itself seemed to hush, as if holding its breath. Etherlight dimmed and flickered across the walls. Even the hovering traffic above slowed, suspended for a heartbeat in disbelief.
Kairu stumbled back, chains dissolving into faint smoke. He dropped to his knees beside the fallen boy, heart hammering. The copper-eyed boy was alive, but pale, unconscious, and trembling.
He couldn't stay. Not now. Not when the watchers — the unseen collectors of the Yorimashi Academy — would soon arrive.
The sirens started then, faint but growing. Their tone was unfamiliar, metallic, precise.
Kairu stood, brushing rain from his hair. The first real taste of his power had been bitter, terrifying, and yet intoxicating. He knew, without doubt, that the day his life truly changed had begun — and the crimson stain on the alley would mark the start of the legend that even the stars of Nirath would remember.
Above him, the twin moons of Nirath glowed faintly, as if acknowledging the blood that had been spilled. Somewhere in the depths of the city, a shadow stirred — watching, waiting, remembering.
The boy who saw shadows had stepped into the world of spirits, chains, and blood. And nothing would ever be the same again.
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