[Name: Aildris Winter] [Age: 17 years] [Origins: House Winter] [Gifts: Void]
This was the information provided by the card — the boy was a "Void."
"Is there a problem, ma'am?" Aildris asked.
By now, the once dominant look of shock in the woman's eyes had retreated to a gaze of indifference, as though the Gifted in her presence wasn't worth her time.
"Gifted…" she snickered. He wasn't even worth being called one. She straightened her posture and gave a second glance to Aildris before looking back at her notes.
"Nothing at all. That would be all. Do enjoy your stay here at Nineswore Peak," she said, giving a slight smile.
Aildris watched her back as she left the room. He had noticed the change in her demeanor almost instantaneously. He was used to it — the gaze of indifference, the cold remarks. Even the smile she had given him looked forced.
He let out a soft sigh. This was just how the new system of the world worked, and this was his treatment for being born a Void. Though many would have tried to fight their way out of this accursed life:
"A life of zero recognition.
A life where status didn't save you as long as you lacked the power to prove your worth.
A life where you were seen as more of a liability than a person.
A life of unfulfillment and emptiness."
But he — he had grown to accept this life. And despite being from a powerful household, he knew that his background meant nothing when they themselves had forced it on him.
"Guess I need to start cleaning. This place is a little dusty," Aildris said to himself, shrugging away his thoughts as he began to settle in.
---
The hallway stretched long and straight, the epitome of nobility already integrated into its structure. From its design, one could tell it was created to showcase the elegance, history, and power of the noble household. Its walls held history, paintings, and relics that could be dated back nearly to the beginning of Nova itself.
A young boy, who looked around the age of ten or maybe eleven, trailed along this hallway, searching from room to room as he followed the low sound of sorrowful sobs that echoed like a hum.
He walked past one room with its door slightly open. Peeking inside, he saw the person he had been searching for. Carefully, and not attempting to make a sound, he walked inside the room and closed the door behind him.
The sobs grew louder, completely enveloping the space around them, making the whole room feel like a part of its despair.
The boy clenched his fists tight enough for his knuckles to turn white. He hated this — the feeling of being powerless. He knew he wasn't strong enough to do anything, so the least he could give was comfort.
He looked at the woman curled up into a ball on the ground, her long curly black hair disheveled and out of place, her grief so deep that she couldn't even notice his presence.
"Mom," the boy called out.
For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still. The sobs came to an abrupt halt as the woman raised her head to reveal her beautiful face and deep brown eyes — a complete replica of the boy in front of her.
"Aildris," the woman called out as she stood up in a panic and wiped the tears streaking her face. "What… What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be at the party?" she asked her son.
"The party ended a while ago, and you were nowhere to be found, so I decided to look for you," the younger version of Aildris replied.
The woman attempted to speak once more, but before she could, she felt her son's small arms wrap around her.
"It's going to be okay, Mom. I promise," Aildris said, his face buried into his mother's dress as he gave her a smile.
She smiled back — although strained, it was genuine. The woman wrapped her arms around her son as she enjoyed the warmth of his embrace. Both of them wished the world would stand still so they could cherish this moment a little longer.
But the world, as they knew it, had never been merciful.
Bang!
The door to the room burst open, ripped from its hinges. It flew towards the embracing mother and son, but the woman noticed in time and ducked, the door missing them by an inch.
A voice spoke from where the door had once stood. It was proud, cocky, and ill-mannered. A slight chill of frost swept into the room as its owner spoke.
Aildris and his mother rose from the ground and looked at the intruder. While his mother's eyes fell into despair, his own shifted into something more sinister — rage.
"Tyler Winter," he growled under his breath.