Age 15 – Kialan
"Kialan," Mom called from outside my door.
It's not like I don't want to open it—it's just that I'm tired of having the same conversation over and over again.
"Honey, please. If there were any other way, I'd let you stay. But this year is non-negotiable."
I got up from my bed and opened the door. She's a good mum. Too good sometimes. But… let's save that talk for another day.
From the way her eyes scanned my room, I could already tell what was coming.
"Kialan, you're fifteen now—a young man. How can you let your space be this disorganized?"
"I'll clean it after you leave, Mom."
She sighed, then came to sit on the edge of my bed.
Then came the tale. Again.
"Honey, you know we're one of the three families whose blood carries an exceptional gift. It's our lineage. Our ancestors vowed to the Court an eternal alliance—to aid in healing, in war, in times of need. That bond runs through your veins now.
"It started with your great-great-grandfather, passed to your grandfather, and now to us. This year, it's your turn. You've skipped the renewal ceremony for three years. No more excuses, Kialan. Your father and I can't keep covering for you."
I sighed. "I know, but I'm fifteen, not fifty. Didn't you say we age slowly because of the bloodline? So what's the rush?
"Besides, I have a life here. Friends. And… I don't know, Mom. If I go this year, I feel like nothing will be normal again."
She shook her head gently. "No, dear. I said it's non-negotiable. Pack your things. We leave for Businish in three days."
She stood to go, adding over her shoulder, "And don't wait until the last night to pack. You've been warned."
I nodded quietly. "Okay, Mum." What else could I say?
It's already been written. No choice. Just a path someone else paved with their idea of peace.
And who are they to decide what peace is? Why do they get a say in what I become? Why do I have to serve people who fear me—just because they don't understand the power I carry?
"It's not fair," I whispered.
She stopped at the door. "Dear, I never said life was fair. This world doesn't run on fairness—it runs on balance. You may think you're getting the short end, but someone else is praying for a piece of what you have.
"No one is forcing you. This is your birthright. It's for peace. Or do you want to live hiding your whole life?
"Before the pact with the Court, our ancestors hid—because the world feared what we could do. Feared we'd rise and wipe them all out. The alliance brought us peace. Freedom. A future."
She left the room looking sad.
I slumped back on my bed.
I know I'm making this hard. But can't they try to see this from my side?
I don't want a bloodline. I want a normal life. School. Games. Peace. Friends.
---
And now we're leaving. Today.
I packed as little as possible. The less you carry, the easier it is to come back. Pack heavy, and it's like you've accepted it. Like you're staying.
Just the ceremony. That's all. Then I'm heading home.
The drive to the island was long and painful—though maybe that's just because I didn't want to be here. Everyone else—my parents and the household workers traveling with us—seemed to be enjoying it more than necessary. Laughing, chatting, even pointing at passing sights like we were on vacation.
I plugged in my headphones, letting the music fill my ears until the world faded into the background.
---
"Kialan, Kialan. Wake up—we're almost there." That was my father.
"Dad, can you let me rest and gather energy before meeting everyone?"
"You've been resting since we began this journey, Kialan."
"I know you don't want to be here, but for your mom's sake, please don't act out, okay? We can't add to the stress."
"Then why didn't we stay?"
He didn't answer. But the silence was its own kind of reply.
"Okay. I'll get ready, Dad. See you."
I put my headphones back on, but the music couldn't drown out the world anymore. I couldn't sleep either.
So I turned to the window, letting the scenery distract me.
---
I leaned my forehead against the glass, warm from the sun. That's when I saw it.
The Island of Businish.
It didn't look like any island I'd imagined. No beaches or cozy cottages. No resorts or smiling locals waving hello.
Instead, it rose from the sea like something ancient and unfinished—a jagged silhouette carved from dark stone and wrapped in fog. The Skychains hung above it like broken constellations, thick iron links binding floating shards of rock in midair. Some hovered like watchful eyes; others shifted in slow, impossible orbits.
A shiver ran through me.
Below, the coastline curved into sharp, dramatic cliffs. Silver mist rolled over the edges like breath, hiding whatever lay at the top. But I could still make out the glowing outline of a giant circular symbol carved into the ground—it pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. The portal seal, maybe. Or a warning.
Tall, glass-like trees shimmered in the distance, catching the sun like crystal shards. The Grove of Whispers, I realized. Mom had once told me it records everything you say aloud. So much for privacy.
Somewhere past that was the lake—the Mirrored Veil—so still it looked like spilled mercury, stretching between forest and mountain. You couldn't even see its end from here. They said if you look into it too long, it shows your truest self.
I wasn't sure I wanted to know what that looked like.
And towering in the island's heart was Heartfire Peak, the dormant volcano that was anything but dead. Even from here, I could feel it humming—like it recognized something in me. A calling. Or a warning. My blood stirred at the sight of it, reacting in a way I hated.
"Almost there," Dad said again, but softer this time.
I didn't answer. I just stared.
The island wasn't beautiful. It wasn't warm.
It was sacred. Dangerous. Watching me.
And somehow, I already knew…
Whatever happened here—there'd be no going back to normal.
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TO BE CONTINUED...
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