Night had a taste on Lei's tongue—damp, like dew clinging to mossy stones, but seasoned with the excitement of secrets just beyond reach. The wind carried distant echoes of laughter from the village feast, but here on the abandoned eastern hill, shadows were his only companions.Every night since Lei found that hidden cavern—where runes pulsed with ancient energy—he'd returned, drawn by curiosity and an ache he could not name. The memories from dreams—the echoing voice of a god, the whirl of stars, the slow throb of void energy—were growing sharper, more insistent.He knelt at the cavern's entrance, cloth tightly bound over his already-blind eyes, fingertips pressed into damp earth as he let his mind slip into the almost trance-like state he'd begun to master. A silent pulse skittered through the void, resonating somewhere deep inside him.Tonight, the call was overwhelming—a heavy, silent drumbeat only he could hear.
Dreams in the Black
He drifted—a consciousness untethered from his frail body. In the realm behind his closed lids, sight was irrelevant; senses expanded in all directions at once.He saw—felt—an endless expanse of shifting stars bathed in the cold embrace of nothingness. Whispers curled around his astral form, speaking in lost tongues, promising both shelter and danger."You are the conduit. Not the end, not the beginning. Embrace the emptiness; bend it to your will."The words chilled Lei's very soul. An image formed there: a monstrous figure, neither beast nor spirit, shrouded in writhing darkness and burning with cracks of violet light—watching, waiting, judging.Was this the god of the void… or something older? The memory faded like frost in the rising sun, replaced by a new sensation—a surge, sharp and brilliant, of his own energy. The void was becoming him, and he was becoming the void.
Reality Bends
He jolted awake, breath hitching. Senses prickled; even without sight, he could feel the shifting space all around. He stood, legs unsteady. Closer to the runes this time, he reached, craving the connection.Pulse. Humming. A flicker—and suddenly, the cavern twisted.He gasped, feeling air scream as physical space warped. For a heartbeat, gravity vanished. Stones floated, then spun, and the world reeled.Panic set in, his heart thundering "Stop! Please—"And it did. Instantly.Silence fell. Everything—sound, movement, feeling in his limbs—hung in suspension. Then, as if exhaling, reality snapped back. The floating stones crashed to earth with dull thuds.Lei collapsed, shaking, sweat soaking the bandages on his eyes.Any other child would have run, screaming. But Lei smirked softly, chest alight with exhilaration."I am not powerless. Not anymore."
The Kindness of Others
For days after, Lei's mind raced with questions and possibilities. He practiced in secret, learning to feel the "edges" of space—a shimmering filigree that stitched the world together, vibrating under his touch.But danger found its way into the solitude he'd built for himself.One morning, as Lei traced along the borders of the village, sharp jeers and hushed laughter drifted to his ears."You hear? The blind one walks again. Like a ghost.""Maybe he's cursed. Stay away or you'll lose your sight, too!"Children—some near his age, voices familiar from long-ago play—circled, emboldened by each other and the safety of mockery.Lei stood straight, brittle pride warring with the urge to disappear. He listened to their footsteps, their shallow breathing, the tension before cruelty.But before anything could happen, someone stepped between him and the crowd."Leave him alone!" The voice was clear, bold—older by several years.The others hesitated. "Why do you care, Yian? He's a nobody!""Then he's my kind of people," came the answer, and footsteps receded, a few muttered curses left behind.Lei's rescuer waited before turning. "You okay?"Lei nodded, wary. "Why would you help me?"A shrug. "Outcasts help each other survive. Name's Yian. Next time, throw a stone or something."Lei offered a faint, dry smile he hoped would pass for gratitude. He'd learned that friendship was rare and precious. Perhaps even dangerous.But he remembered the feeling in the cavern—how simply wanting had bent reality for a moment. Perhaps he could change not only himself, but his fate.
Testing the Edges
Night again. Back in the cavern, Lei dared to push the limit.He focused on the runes, their energy dense as packed earth. This time, he did not fear the void or panic in its presence. Instead, as the air chilled and the stone buzzed, he imagined reaching out—not with fingers, but with will.The world responded.A ripple: stone undulated, warping forward at his silent command.Another: a loose pebble spun in slow circles.Encouraged, Lei shaped the void's energy. It was delicate—like sculpting mist with bare hands. He sensed danger, too—that the gulf could swallow him completely, leaving nothing behind. But he pressed forward.Deeper, further; the fabric of space thinned, and a vision struck him like a spear—He was standing on a plain of stars, space swirling around his body like a living cloak. At the horizon, a great gate shimmered—etched with the same runes as the cavern in the waking world.Beyond it waited something ancient and immense, both terrifying and inviting."Claim your birthright." The god-voice intoned inside his mind, deep and crashing as thunder. "But beware: every power comes with a price."Pain lanced through him; the vision fractured and fell away.
A Threat in the Dark
The next day, the village was abuzz. A messenger had arrived at dawn, warning of a beast prowling the outskirts—something monstrous, something that devoured light and sound.Lei's family barely looked at him as they spoke in worried tones."Lock the doors," muttered his mother. "Pray for peace."But Lei's senses, sharp from practice, caught something the others could not. Twisted mana burned at the edge of his awareness. The air was thick, wrong—the threat was real, and close.It was Yian's voice—shouting, desperate—ripping him from his silent vigil: "Help! Something's—Agh!"Without thought, Lei moved. Unseen by all, he ran—guided by the pulse of wrongness—and found Yian on the ground, leg gashed by something invisible, shadowy tentacles smoking in the noon light.The beast—if it was a beast at all—was more void than animal, its outline flickering, half real and half not.Fear clawed at Lei, but he stood between Yian and the horror. He reached inside—not for sight, but for that humming, shifting power he'd claimed as his own.He let go of fear and screamed, "BEGONE!"The world froze, time grinding to a halt—the beast twisted in place, bound by invisible chains of Lei's will. With a new surge, Lei felt the void rush through him and out:The shade howled, then split apart, dissolving—space snapping back to normal as the last echo faded.
Gasping, drained, and trembling, Lei collapsed beside Yian. For a long moment neither spoke, but Yian placed a grateful, shaky hand over Lei's."You… how did you—?""Just lucky," Lei lied, muscles burning from the impossible effort.Soon, the villagers came, drawn by the noise, and Yian recounted what he'd seen—how the beast simply vanished with Lei's arrival, how the blind outcast had stood firm.Some called it a miracle. Others called it a curse. Old fears were stoked, but stories spread—of a boy with cloth-bound eyes who commanded the night itself.The Whisper Grows LouderThat night Lei returned to the cavern, the runes brighter, pulsing in time with his racing heartbeat. He realized that even if the world doubted or feared him, the path had opened and would not close again.Inside the void, alone but powerful, he heard the voice of god—or fate, or destiny—one more time:"You have tasted the void and survived. Now, others will seek your power. Prepare your heart. The horizon has no end, but neither does the darkness."