Morning came slowly in the outer district.The sky above the orphanage was always gray—choked by the smoke of the factories that ran day and night. The bell rang at dawn, and children spilled out of the cramped dormitory to begin their chores.
Jak was already awake. He rarely slept much. The others said he talked in his sleep sometimes, murmuring about lights and colors they couldn't see.
He didn't mind their teasing. They never saw what he saw.
While the others scrubbed floors or fetched water, Jak swept the courtyard. Fine dust shimmered faintly in the air—threads of mana, invisible to everyone else but bright and living to him. They danced around the broom like wisps of fog.
He paused to watch them. Each had its own color, its own motion. Some drifted lazily, others moved with strange purpose. He had tried once to tell the caretaker, old Miss Rella, but she had only frowned and muttered, "You've got too much imagination, boy."
Maybe she was right.
Still, when Jak watched the mana, he felt less lonely. The threads whispered things he couldn't understand, like the echo of an old song.
The orphanage itself was a narrow building squeezed between two warehouses. The walls were cracked, and the roof leaked when it rained. Most of the food came from scraps the older kids scavenged after work shifts.
Jak wasn't old enough to work yet, so he helped clean tools at a nearby smithy in exchange for leftover bread. The smith, a rough man named Garan, didn't talk much—but he sometimes let Jak watch when he used mana to heat the forge.
To Jak, that was magic. Not the fancy kind nobles studied, but real, living power.
He often wondered what it would be like to control it himself—to give shape to the lights he saw. But without a magic stone, he couldn't even test it.
That afternoon, when his chores were done and the other children went to play near the canal, Jak wandered toward the market. He liked to walk when the sun set—the glow of mana from the lamps made the air look alive.
He followed the main road until it split into smaller alleys. He wasn't sure why he turned left instead of right. Maybe it was because the air there felt… different. The mana was thicker, pulsing with a strange rhythm.
He slowed his steps. The faint hum grew louder, almost like a heartbeat.
At the end of the narrow lane stood an old building half-hidden behind stacks of crates. The sign above the door was barely legible, its paint long peeled away, but he could make out a single word:
"Toys."
A toy shop here? In the poorest part of the city? He had never seen it before.
Through the dusty window, he saw shadows of dolls, gears, and wind-up animals—long forgotten by time. Yet something glimmered faintly inside, faint as a breath.
Jak pushed the door open. A bell rang softly.
Inside smelled of wood polish and age. Toys crowded every shelf—some with missing limbs, others frozen mid-motion. But the air here was rich with mana, thicker than anywhere he'd ever been.
And there, on a lower shelf, half-buried in dust, something pulsed.
It wasn't bright, but its rhythm called to him. A small black cube, no bigger than his hand, etched with faint glowing lines.
He didn't understand why, but it felt… familiar.
Like something that had been waiting for him.
Jak stepped closer, heart pounding.
Jak reached out, his fingers hovering just above the cube.A faint hum resonated through the air—soft at first, then rising, like a distant chord.
Before he could touch it, a voice broke the silence.
"Careful, boy. Some of those things still bite."
Jak jerked his hand back. From behind the counter, an old man emerged, wiping grease off his hands with a faded cloth. His long gray hair was tied back, and his spectacles sat crooked on his nose.
He smiled faintly, the kind of smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Not many children wander into my shop these days."
"I… didn't mean to intrude," Jak said quickly. "I saw the door open."
"Ah." The man looked toward the cube, following Jak's gaze. "So that's what called you in, eh?"
Jak hesitated. "It… called me?"
The shopkeeper chuckled softly. "Everything in this place calls to someone, sooner or later. Toys, trinkets, forgotten machines. They just wait for the right hands."
He shuffled closer, studying Jak with a sharp, curious expression. "But that one… that cube… no one's ever been able to make it light up. You can see it glowing, can't you?"
Jak blinked. "You can't?"
The man's smile faded. "No. Most can't. That's what makes you interesting."
He turned, heading behind the counter again. "Go on, then. Pick it up. See what it wants."
Jak swallowed and reached out again. This time, his fingertips brushed the cube's surface. It was warm—almost alive.
The markings flared softly, threads of blue light weaving across its surface. Mana surged in the air, swirling like wind around him. For an instant, Jak felt something connect—like a hidden part of him had been unlocked.
Then the light dimmed, leaving only the faint pulse of the cube's glow.
The shopkeeper stared. "Well, I'll be damned," he muttered. "It recognizes you."
Jak looked up, startled. "Recognizes me?"
The old man leaned forward on the counter, his eyes glinting beneath the dusty lamplight. "I've kept that thing for twenty years. Found it in the wreckage of an old automaton factory. The scholars said it was just debris—mana crystal gone dead. But I could never throw it away."
He paused, then pushed the cube toward Jak. "Seems like it was waiting for someone. Might as well be you."
Jak hesitated. "I… I don't have money."
The old man waved a hand. "Bah. It's junk, remember? Take it. Maybe it'll teach you something."
Jak bowed slightly, clutching the cube in both hands. "Thank you, sir."
"Names don't matter much to me," the man said, turning away. "But if you ever figure out what that thing really is, come tell me. I'd like to know what I've been sweeping around all these years."
Jak nodded and headed for the door. Just as he reached it, the man's voice stopped him again.
"One more thing, boy."
Jak turned.
The shopkeeper's eyes, for the first time, looked serious. "That cube's not a toy. Don't try to open it. Not yet."
Jak nodded again, though he wasn't sure he understood.
Outside, the night had fallen completely. The mana lamps along the street flickered, their glow barely pushing back the fog. In his hands, the cube throbbed faintly—warm, alive, almost breathing.
He could feel it watching him.
For the first time in his life, Jak felt like the lights he saw had finally looked back.