The sound of rain against the rusted tin roof was the only thing that woke him.
Rael opened his eyes to the dim light leaking through a cracked window. The room smelled faintly of damp wood and old dust — his mother's house was small, barely held together, but it was home.
He pushed himself up from the thin mattress, rubbing the stiffness from his neck. Another day, another burden. His mother's voice, faint but warm, drifted from the kitchen.
"Rael, you'll be late for school again."
Her voice was kind, but weary. She had been sick for months now, though she tried to hide it from him. Rael shouldered his threadbare bag and stepped out, the weight of unspoken worries pressing heavier than the books inside.
On the streets, life was raw and unforgiving. The city of Aeonis, ruled by gods but lived in by mortals, was a place of shining towers and shadowed alleys. Nobles who worshipped divine patrons walked freely with guards, while boys like Rael learned to keep their heads down and fists ready.
At school, he was brilliant but invisible. Teachers praised his sharp mind, but his peers saw only a poor boy with second-hand clothes. Mockery followed him like a shadow.
"Hey, orphan," one sneered as Rael walked past. "Tell the gods to buy you some new shoes."
Laughter echoed, but Rael kept walking, jaw tight. He was not fatherless — only no one believed him when he said his father's name was lost among the stars.
That night, after his mother had fallen asleep, Rael sat outside beneath the pale glow of the moon. His fists clenched. His heart ached. Somewhere deep inside, a fire burned — not anger, not despair, but something older.
And then he saw it.
The sky trembled. For a heartbeat, the stars themselves flickered, rearranging into a shape — a symbol carved in fire. His breath caught. The symbol pulsed once, like a heartbeat, and then vanished.
Rael blinked hard, wondering if exhaustion had played a cruel trick. But his chest burned where no wound existed, as if the mark had been seared inside him.
Far above, unseen, gods watched. Some with pride. Others with fear. For the boy had begun to awaken.
And Helluva, bound in dark
ness, smiled from the abyss.