Chapter One: Seed on the River
The night wasn't ordinary that night, nor was the river that flowed as usual on the outskirts of the village, nor even the boy who sat on a rock there, staring into the water as if he were seeing a mirror to another world.
His name was Lian. He was only fifteen years old, but his calm eyes held a strange gleam; a gleam seen only by those who dared to raise their heads to the night sky and allow at least one star to penetrate its depths.
Among the villagers, the river was known as "the glittering river." Many stories were woven around it by grandmothers: it was said to be nourished by a celestial artery falling from the galaxy, it was said to be a home for souls that hadn't yet found their way to the stars, and it was said to be nothing more than flowing water. But Lian was never convinced by those easy answers.
He felt like the water was listening to him. Each wave broke against the small rocks like an unspoken word. And whenever he sat there alone, he felt something inside him move… a tiny seed, but not an earthly seed, but something beyond.
That night, while the moon was half-full, an inner voice, almost a whisper, came to him:
"Will you remain a spectator? Or will you allow the stars to place their hand in your chest?"
The voice wasn't external, nor was it the echo of the water. It was something else… something he didn't understand.
He cautiously reached out toward the surface of the river. A strange chill swept over his body. For a brief moment, he thought the water had clung to him.
Then he saw it: a thin, silver thread emerging from his palm. It wasn't a beam of light, but a tangible thread, shimmering and writhing as if it were alive.
He shuddered. He tried to pull it out of the water, but the thread followed him, remaining suspended between his fingers and the surface.
"This… isn't an illusion."
He tugged on it, and found its other end embedded in the river as if it were anchored to a distant, endless bottom. He felt its weight, a hidden tug. It wasn't an easy thread. It required concentration. Every breath he took made the thread tremble, as if his body was paying a direct price for every moment it extended this power.
Seconds turned into minutes.
Suddenly, he heard a creak behind him. He turned and saw an old man emerging from the trees. It was Orin, the village sage and the man of many stories.
Orin wasn't surprised. He just stood there, silently watching. He said in a low voice, "So... the seed has awakened."
Lian was confused. "So... you see this thread?"
The old man smiled. "I don't see it as you do, but I know its signs. For decades, no one has been born in our village who responded to the river's call. And now... it's your turn."
He approached slowly, sat beside him, and then added, "Don't rejoice too much, and don't be too afraid. Every awakened ability carries a price. The water that illuminates you can also drown you if you don't know how to swim."
Lian hesitated. "But... I didn't choose this. Why me?"
Orin laughed quietly. "No one chooses the stars, boy. The stars do. The real question is: What will you do with what you've been given?"
The thread was growing heavier. Lian felt his fingers go stiff. His chest felt hot and his hand felt cold.
"It's... pulling me," he said, his voice breaking.
Oren grabbed his shoulder. "Pull yourself up before the chain closes on you. Learn to let go, as much as you learn to hold."
Lian closed his eyes. He concentrated. He remembered the image of his mother, waiting for him at home. He breathed slowly. Little by little, the thread began to fade, as if it had returned to the water.
He fell to the ground, panting. His entire body trembled.
The sheikh sat silently for a moment, then said, "Remember, this is just the beginning. The thread is but a reflection of a seed within you. And with each time you summon it, it will demand more of you. If you don't learn to control its price, it will swallow you before it can give you its power."
Lian raised his head, sweat dripping from his brow, his eyes shining with a mixture of fear and amazement.
"Are there others like me?" he said.
Oren answered after a pause, "Yes. A few... but they exist. Some disappear as they appeared, some become a light that guides the villages. And there are others... others whose seed has been broken, transformed into mindless monsters."
Lian shuddered.
"And... what about me?" he asked in a low voice.
The old man smiled. "That's what we'll find out."
But as the two talked by the riverbank, another shadow watched from afar.
A man in a gray cloak, his face covered by a mask. He didn't come closer, didn't make a sound. He just jotted something down in a small notebook.
Then he whispered to himself, "A new seed in the village of Shimmering River... the Silver Thread. We must keep an eye on it."
However, he wasn't just an observer. He was an agent of the Grey Shadow Organization, who scour remote villages in search of rare talents.
To them, every new seed... could be a weapon or a threat.