The quiet town of Valmont lay tucked between rolling hills and fields of lavender, bathed in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. Cobblestone streets meandered through rows of old stone houses, their windows shuttered against the warm breeze. Life here was simple, quiet, the kind of life that Kahel had come to resent.
At fifteen, Kahel was already an outcast in Valmont. Tall and lean, with wild black hair that defied any attempt at order, and eyes a fierce, piercing blue, he seemed too intense for the sleepy village. The townsfolk whispered when he passed: That boy has fire in him... He's trouble, that one. They weren't entirely wrong. Kahel's honesty could cut like a blade, and his temper flared as quickly as a summer storm. But none of them knew the truth behind his anger, nor the burden he carried in his heart.
His mother was gone. Taken from him in an instant, by a man shrouded in darkness, a cultivator whose power was beyond anything Kahel had ever known. That day, everything changed. The grief, the rage, the helplessness, they festered, burning into something sharp, something dangerous.
"I'll find him," Kahel muttered under his breath as he stalked through the narrow streets, his fists clenched tight. "I'll make him pay."
He was just an orphan boy in a small French town, no family, no teacher, no knowledge of the vast world that lay beyond Valmont's borders. But he had his will, and a hunger for strength that could not be quenched.
As the sun sank below the horizon, casting long shadows over the village, Kahel stood alone at the crossroads, the wind tugging at his shirt. Deep inside, he felt it, a restless energy, an ember waiting to ignite.
His journey was just beginning.