The wind drifted like a cold breath through the cracks of the storage room Kael called home.
His hands trembled slightly—not just from the daily training, but from lack of sleep. Every night he lay awake. The burn wound on his shoulder healed only slowly—it pulsed like a reminder that the world hated him.
But it wasn't just the pain that kept him awake.
It was the thing he carried.
A small, dark cylinder made of a material he didn't recognize—given to him by a raven only he had seen. Others dismissed it as nonsense. But Kael felt this object was something important.
Something that breathed when no one was looking.
He had brought it to school today. Carefully hidden beneath his clothes. In an unobserved moment, he handed it to Mara—just to be sure.
"What is this?" she asked, eyeing it warily. "Old… and empty."
She passed it to Joran. He grinned as if holding something worthless.
"Kael, you collect trash. No wonder you have no Chi."
But nothing happened with either of them.
No glow. No sound. No resistance.
When Kael took it back, a black line flickered across the surface for a fraction of a second—barely visible, but real. And only he felt it: a pressure in his head, a faint echo. Like an awakened gaze.
Back in his storage room, he sat in the darkness, the object in his hands. It was cold. And it trembled, though faintly—like a heart slowly remembering how to beat.
Then, without warning, a fine line opened in the middle. No light, no smoke—just a narrow, dark slit. And from it came no Chi, but… something else.
A breath of air that felt like a word. One he did not understand.
But his body reacted.
His scar twitched.
His fingers tingled.
And in his mind, a single sentence formed, as if placed there by something else:
"Not every key fits every lock."
Kael held his breath.
What was this thing?
Why did it only respond to him?
He didn't know. Not yet.
But deep inside, one thing was clear:
This was the first step.
Something had begun.
Kael couldn't sleep. The thing—this black cylinder—lay beside him, and though it was silent, he felt watched. As if something inside… was waiting.
He remembered the sentence that had surfaced in his mind when the line had opened:
"Not every key fits every lock."
He couldn't say whether those words had truly been spoken or were just his wishful thinking—but something told him the object was alive. Not in a biological sense. Different. Aware.
The next day, after class, he stayed behind in the old gym. No one ever came here. He sat in one of the far corners, placed the thing before him, and focused.
"What are you?" he whispered.
No answer.
He closed his eyes, placed his hand on the cold material—and he felt it again: a faint pulsing, like a heartbeat, deep down. And then it happened.
For a moment, he lost all sense of time.
He stood in darkness.
Before him—a circle of glowing symbols, floating in the air. No fire, no light—but like cracks in the world itself.
At the center: the object, opened. And inside, an abyss. Not a physical space, but… a feeling. Like the beginning of everything. Or the end.
Then a voice. Not audible. A thought.
"Bearer without name. Lost child. The key is not you. But through you, it may act."
Kael tried to speak, but his voice didn't exist here. The symbols began to rotate. And something recognized him—not his shape, not his thoughts, but what lay behind his blood. Something even he didn't know.
And then—a tear. The vision shattered.
He woke up gasping.
He was still in the gym. The object lay in his hand—warm now. No longer lifeless. And on his skin: a faint imprint, like a black mark, which faded moments later.
Kael was pale. His forehead drenched in sweat. But inside him—something sparked.
He had looked.
Not into another world.
But into himself.
And whatever this thing was—it hadn't just recognized him.
It had been waiting.
Kael still sat there, the thing in his hand, his skin damp with cold sweat. His breath had calmed, but something inside him remained alert. Awake in a way he couldn't describe.
He looked at his hand. No trace of the black imprint. But inside, something had shifted—like a hairline crack in ice, barely visible, but deep. The world felt… different. Sharper. Heavier. Every movement, every sound echoed within him.
He stood slowly, tucked the object back under his clothes, and left the gym. The courtyard was empty. Only the evening light remained.
But as he descended the final steps of the stairs, it happened.
A boy came toward him—Ren, a wind-user. Arrogant. Popular. And full of contempt for Kael.
"Hey, trash boy," he mocked. "Talking to rocks again? Or was it a leaf this time?"
Kael wanted to pass him, ignore him. But Ren grabbed him by the collar.
And in that moment, something happened.
No light. No sound. No visible sign.
But something in Kael twitched—like a command from deep within.
He felt heat. Not on his skin—but behind his eyes.
And then Ren suddenly went pale. His hand released.
"What… are you?" he murmured, pupils wide.
Kael simply stood there. He had done nothing. And yet something had answered. Not him. But the thing.
Ren stepped back, his gaze uncertain. Then turned—and ran.
Back in the storage room, Kael stared at the ceiling. His thoughts raced. Not with fear—but with a growing certainty.
This object was no mere gift.
It was a seal. Or a mirror. Perhaps both.
He thought of the words from the darkness:
"The key is not you. But through you, it may act."
And for the first time, Kael allowed himself to say the thought aloud:
Maybe there is something inside me. Something they don't understand.
He was still the same boy without Chi.
And yet, today a raven had spoken.
A seal had opened.
Another had recoiled.
And this was only the beginning.