The village of Deyva lay nestled between two slumbering mountains, its crooked rooftops draped in morning mist. Birds chirped above the thatched houses, and sleepy farmers carried baskets of root vegetables to the market square. The world was slow here. Predictable. Safe.
Except for one boy.
Kael hung upside down from a gnarled tree branch, one foot tied to a fraying rope and the other wildly flailing. His arms were crossed behind his head as if he didn't have a care in the world.
"You're going to fall and break your neck!" shouted an old woman from below.
"I'd rather fall than sit through Master Ryden's lecture again," Kael muttered.
The old woman muttered something about "wasted youth" and stomped off.
Kael twisted slightly, watching the sky. It was always that shade of almost-blue in Deyva. Like the color had given up trying. He sighed.
He was seventeen. Clanless. Powerless. Fatherless. And somehow still convinced the world owed him something spectacular.
He finally let himself fall, twisting mid-air and landing with a soft thud in the tall grass. A small, awkward cheer came from the edge of the field.
"You didn't die," said a girl with short black hair and sharp eyes. Her name was Nyra. She always carried a wooden dagger on her belt. Just in case.
Kael grinned. "Not today."
"You know Master Ryden's going to skin you if you're late again."
"Let him try. I'm fast."
Nyra frowned. "Kael... You have to take this seriously. The Soul Trials are only a few moons away. Everyone in the village will be tested."
Kael's smile faded. He looked down at his hand — dirty, scarred, and most of all, empty. No mark. No symbol. Nothing.
Only those with Soulmarks could awaken the power within and rise through the clans. The rest? Forgotten.
"What if I don't have a soul worth marking?" he asked softly.
Nyra didn't answer. She didn't need to. They both knew the truth: most people in Deyva never awakened. And Kael, with no clan, no history, and no talent, was the least likely of all.
Still, something stirred in the wind.
That night, Kael dreamt of a field of ash and fire. He stood in a crater, eyes burning, surrounded by voices — voices that whispered names he had never heard.
One name rose above the rest.
"Soulrise."
He woke with a jolt.
And for the first time in his life, Kael's palm glowed.