First-person POV – Igris
(Narration switches occasionally for atmosphere and foreshadowing. No other character knows Igris exists beyond the village. Spirits only appear to him. No OP knowledge or system-style logic dumps.)
There was a moment—still and endless—where I simply was.
A blur of sound, heat, scent, and unfamiliar motion tugged at the edges of my awareness. It was not thought, not yet. Just sensation. A storm of soft whispers, occasional laughter, warmth brushing my cheek, and then cold. Repetition. Rhythm.
Then light.
I blinked for the first time.
It was like staring into the heart of a bonfire—blinding, brilliant, golden-orange. A voice, gentle and low, rumbled nearby. Not words—just tone. Soothing. There were shadows dancing above, their shapes alien. Gigantic. My vision was fuzzy, but I could feel things.
I was alive.
I did not know who. I did not know where. But I was certain of that single truth.
[Narrator]
In the quiet heart of a forested continent untouched by maps or empires, where no leyline hummed and no god's gaze fell, a child was born under a sky veiled in void-clouds. There were no stars that night—only black, pulsing emptiness. The villagers whispered of omens and strange wind patterns, but the elder midwife said nothing. She only watched the infant's eyes…
...and saw a darkness deeper than any she'd known stare back.
[Igris – ~6 Months Old]
Time passed, though I didn't know how to measure it. I began recognizing things.
The warmth belonged to someone—I would later know her as Mother. Her voice was softer than the others. Her eyes, when I could focus on them, were kind but often distant. She spoke a language I couldn't yet understand, but her tone soothed the unease that clung to me like shadow.
I began understanding sound patterns. When a certain series of soft syllables left her lips and her gaze landed on me, she smiled. My name… that must be what it was.
"Igris," she'd whisper. "My little star."
That word clung to me.
Igris.
It felt… correct. Not comforting. Not beautiful. But right. Like a blade finding its sheath.
[1 Year Old]
By now, I had learned to crawl. My mouth had fumbled its way into forming the simplest sounds—enough to mimic words crudely. But behind the awkward syllables and childlike curiosity, my mind was different. It was sharper. Hungrier.
I began experimenting—not in secret, but subconsciously at first. When I stared too long at a flickering flame near the hearth, it bent slightly, quivering unnaturally. When I grew frustrated, things around me grew colder. Shadows thickened near my cot. They wrapped around me like a second blanket at night, chasing away the cold.
At times, I'd feel something whispering from deep inside my chest. Not a voice. A pressure. A beat—slower than my heart but louder in my head.
Then the dreams began.
In one dream, I stood atop a void of swirling lights. Below me, stars broke apart and bled color into empty space. I was watching creation and destruction occur simultaneously, and in the center of that cosmic maelstrom, I saw her.
Flames and mist flowed around her form—tall, elegant, eyes the color of dying embers and ocean whirlpools. She smiled faintly, then bowed.
"You summoned me, Master," she said.
I woke in a cold sweat—though I hadn't learned what sweat was yet.
[1.5 Years Old]
One night, I sat upright in my cot and focused.
Not with words, not with thoughts—but with something primal. I just wanted to see the pretty light things again. So I just reached inward, and something opened.
A ripple of power spread from my chest like a drop of ink in water. The air grew heavier. My breath fogged despite the summer heat. And then—
She appeared.
A woman formed from water and fire simultaneously. Steam danced from her skin as blue and red mist weaved around her like ribbons. Her eyes glowed with ancient patience. Her presence was motherly, powerful, yet soft.
Her lips moved slowly, reverently.
"Hello again master"
My lips moved unconsciously
"Solara"
I looked confused and awestruck
She giggled
"I am yours, and you are mine."
I tried to speak again but only gurgled.
She smiled and gently touched my forehead. Her presence entered my mind—not with words, but with memories and emotion. Understanding. Language. I saw visions of her creation, her essence. Her affinity: Fire and Water. Her concept: Knowledge.
And just like that, I knew her. Not just her name. I knew who she was. What she meant. What she would become.
My first spirit.
[Narrator – Outside Perspective]
Had anyone with awakened senses stood near the cottage that night, they would have felt the ripples of something ancient stirring beneath the veil of reality. But no one noticed. The forest's mana was unusually calm, as if the land itself wished to hide what had been born beneath its canopy.
[Igris]
Not long after, I called again—unintentionally.
The second one came again to me during a tantrum. I'd knocked over a basket, furious that I couldn't reach a book. My mind spun with frustration. I wanted to know everything. Why the sky was blue. Why fire danced. Why people smiled and cried.
That night, I dreamt of spinning galaxies and golden gears clicking together.
She crashed into my room the next day—literally.
A whirlwind of violet light exploded from under my cot, and she somersaulted into view, laughing hysterically as time itself rippled around her.
"Aelira!" she shouted before I could react.
I stared.
She stared back, then poked my cheek.
"My master is.... Soooo cute."
[2 Years Old]
By the time I could walk steadily and speak in simple sentences, I'd already begun isolating myself. I didn't try to. But I was different. I could see things.
Lines of color danced behind people's eyes. When someone lied, the glow dulled. When Mother cried, her aura turned pale blue.
I kept quiet.
I didn't want to scare her.
One cold evening, I sat alone in the field behind our house, tracing glyphs into the dirt with my finger. I wasn't copying anything—I was remembering. From the dreams. The visions.
It was then that the third one appeared.
A tear in reality opened before me—not like a portal, but a wound in space.
She stepped through, composed, elegant, cloaked in light and shadow. Her expression was cold, unreadable. She didn't speak. She only extended her hand.
"Nyssara," I heard in my mind.
Darkness wrapped around my arm like silk. Light spiraled into my fingers.
Our bond snapped into place like lightning cracking stone.
"I like the quiet as well"
[Narrator]
Thus, before his second nameday, the boy called Igris had formed a bond with three spirits—each one a Voidborn anomaly, each one drawn not by ritual, training, or bloodline... but simply by his presence. His soul.
In time, their names would be whispered across continents.
But for now, they remained unseen. Unknown.
And Igris? He remained a quiet child with sharp eyes and quiet steps, hiding his truths behind a toddler's smile.