Jade stood at the edge of the smoldering ruins. The wind carried the scent of burning wood, of things lost. His small hands clenched the remnants of an old parchment, the only thing left from the fire that had consumed the village library. He didn't fully understand why he was drawn here, but it felt as if the ashes themselves were calling to him, whispering secrets he hadn't yet unraveled.
It had been two days since the fire, and yet the embers still clung to the air like a bitter reminder. The once-thriving village had been reduced to nothing more than blackened bones. No one knew the cause of the fire, but Jade knew. He had seen the flicker of flame before it spread, and the shadows lurking behind the smoke. It had been no accident.
But that wasn't his primary concern. Not today.
Jade turned his back to the destruction and looked to the horizon. He was six now, and though his body was small, there was a strength within him that no one could see. His muted existence was something that many overlooked, but deep inside, the silent power was awakening. He could feel it, like a distant hum beneath his skin, waiting to be unleashed.
His family was nearby. His father, Nerin, had been too busy salvaging what little he could from their ruined home. Sira, his mother, still sobbed quietly at the remnants of their old life, her hopes dashed like the broken shards of a once-cherished vase. His older brother, Veren, had been nowhere to be found. The last time Jade saw him, he was stumbling into the forest, drunk and belligerent. A part of him feared what his brother might do next. He feared what he might do, too.
Jade knew he was different. His silence was not a mere absence of sound but a weapon in itself. The memory of his past life, the life he couldn't fully remember but felt, stirred deep within him. He had once commanded flames, wielded weapons of pure will, and fought battles that seemed impossible to win. Now, trapped in this fragile, young body, he felt powerless — yet he knew that one day, those powers would return. They had to.
But for now, there was only the quiet. Only the wind. Only the weight of things unsaid.
As Jade walked through the remains of the village, he couldn't help but notice the stares of the villagers. Whispers followed him, and though he couldn't hear them, he felt them. Their eyes were filled with suspicion and fear. The mute boy, the strange one. Some called him cursed, others whispered about his potential. None of them knew the truth.
No one understood the fire that burned inside him.
Jade paused for a moment and knelt beside a small pile of ash. He reached down and traced a rune in the dirt. A small, glowing symbol appeared, its edges flickering like a distant flame. It was faint, so faint that no one would notice, but it was there, the seed of power waiting to grow. He couldn't speak, couldn't even remember how to call upon his abilities fully. But deep down, he knew he was more than this. More than the quiet, helpless boy they saw before them.
A rustling behind him broke his concentration. He turned, but no one was there. The wind howled louder, almost as if mocking him.
Jade stood up, dusting his knees off, and walked toward the woods. The ashes on his hands left trails in the dirt, but he didn't care. His mind was elsewhere, far beyond the small, broken world he had been born into. He was a ghost, a phantom between worlds, a child with the memories of someone far older. His eyes, silvery and distant, scanned the horizon. There was something waiting for him out there, something that called his name — but he wasn't sure if it was his past or his future.
The wind swept through his hair as Jade's silent steps carried him further into the unknown.