PThe hospital room smelled like bleach and despair, a sterile sting that clung to the back of Caleb's throat. He lay in the bed, his body a map of bruises and bandages, each breath a sharp reminder of the thing that had fucked him up. His left arm was in a cast, his ribs taped so tight he could barely move without wincing. The heart monitor beeped steadily, a mocking rhythm against the chaos in his head. He was sixteen, and last night, he'd been torn apart by something that shouldn't exist.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting a sickly glow on the tiled floor. Caleb stared at the ceiling, replaying the attack. He'd been walking home from the gas station, a bag of chips in hand, when the air turned heavy, like the world was holding its breath. Then it came—a hulking, grotesque thing with too many limbs and eyes that burned like gasoline fires. It had ripped through the alley like a tornado, tossing him into a brick wall like he was nothing. He remembered claws, teeth, and a scream—his own—before everything went black.
Now he was here, alive but broken, with no answers and a gnawing fear that whatever that thing was, it wasn't done with him.
The door creaked open, and Caleb's eyes flicked toward it. A man stepped inside, and everything about him screamed *wrong*. He was in his late twenties, tall and lean, with black hair slicked back and eyes so dark they seemed to swallow the light. He wore a long black coat, unbuttoned, over a gray shirt and dark jeans. Despite the grim setting, his posture was upright, almost cocky, like he owned the room. He wasn't depressed or brooding—there was a spark in his expression, a mix of amusement and purpose that made Caleb's skin crawl.
"Who the fuck are you?" Caleb rasped, his voice rough from disuse.
The man smirked, pulling a chair to the bedside and sitting with a casual grace. "Name's Elias. And you, Caleb Winters, are one lucky son of a bitch."
Caleb's heart monitor spiked. "How do you know my name?"
Elias leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his dark eyes locking onto Caleb's. "I know a lot about you. Know you're sixteen, live in that shithole apartment with your mom, and last night, you got your ass handed to you by a wraith. Ring any bells?"
Caleb's mouth went dry. "A… wraith?"
"Yeah. Nasty fucker. Six arms, eyes like a nightmare, smells like death's armpit. You're lucky it didn't eat you." Elias leaned back, crossing his arms. "But it didn't, and that's why I'm here."
Caleb's mind raced. This guy wasn't a doctor, wasn't a cop. He didn't even seem human, not with that eerie calm and the way his presence made the room feel smaller. "What do you want? You with some secret agency or some shit?"
Elias laughed, a sharp, genuine sound that cut through the sterile silence. "Nah, kid. I'm a wizard. And you, whether you like it or not, are my problem now."
Caleb blinked, his brain stuttering. "Wizard? Like… Harry Potter bullshit?"
"Less wands and scarves, more blood and curses. But yeah, magic's real, and you're neck-deep in it." Elias's smile faded, his tone turning serious. "That wraith wasn't random. It was hunting you. And it's not the last thing that'll come for your head."
Caleb's chest tightened, the pain in his ribs flaring. "Why me? I'm nobody. I'm just…" He trailed off, his voice cracking. "I'm just some kid."
Elias's eyes softened, just for a moment, before hardening again. "You're not just some kid. You survived a wraith with no training, no magic, no nothing. That's not normal. That's fucking extraordinary. And it means you've got a target on your back."
Caleb shook his head, the words not sinking in. "This is insane. You're insane. I'm in a hospital bed, not some fantasy novel. Get out."
Elias didn't move. Instead, he reached into his coat and pulled out a small, jagged object—a claw, black and glistening, like it was carved from obsidian. He tossed it onto the bed, where it landed on Caleb's lap. "That's from the wraith. Proof I'm not bullshitting you."
Caleb stared at the claw, his stomach churning. It was real, too real, its edges sharp enough to cut through his hospital gown. He wanted to throw it across the room, but his hands wouldn't move. "Okay," he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. "Let's say I believe you. Why's this happening? What do you want with me?"
Elias sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Here's the deal, kid. The world's a lot uglier than you think. Magic exists, but it's not sparkles and fairy tales. It's a warzone—wizards, monsters, things that'd make that wraith look like a puppy. You got caught in the crossfire because of what you are. And now, I'm obligated to teach you how to survive."
"Teach me?" Caleb's laugh was bitter, cut short by a wince of pain. "I can't even walk right now. What, you gonna make me a wizard too?"
Elias's expression darkened, and for the first time, he looked uneasy. "That's… complicated. But yeah, I'm supposed to train you. It's not just about magic. It's about keeping you alive."
Caleb's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean? What aren't you telling me?"
Elias stood, pacing to the window and staring out at the city skyline. "You're not ready for the whole truth yet. Hell, I'm not sure I'm ready to tell you. But I'll give you this: you're special, Caleb. Not in a warm-and-fuzzy way, but in a way that makes things want to kill you. My job is to make sure they don't."
Caleb's frustration boiled over. "Stop talking in fucking riddles! I almost died last night, and now you're here with some cryptic bullshit? Tell me what's going on, or I swear—"
"Alright, alright," Elias cut in, raising his hands. "Calm your tits. Here's the short version: there's a prophecy—yeah, I know, clichés suck—about someone like you. Born every hundred years, tied to some cosmic bullshit that makes you a magnet for trouble. That wraith was just the start. More will come, and if you don't learn to fight, you're dead."
Caleb's head spun. Prophecy? Cosmic bullshit? It was too much, too fast. But the claw on his lap was real, and so was the fear clawing at his chest. "So what now? You wave a wand and fix me?"
Elias snorted. "No wands. And you're not staying here. Hospitals can't protect you from what's coming." He stepped closer, his voice low. "I'm taking you somewhere safe. Somewhere you can learn what you need to survive."
Caleb's heart pounded. "My mom—"
"Will be fine. I've got people watching her. No monsters are getting near her, I promise." Elias's tone was firm, almost reassuring, but his eyes were unreadable.
Caleb wanted to argue, to demand more answers, but the weight of everything—the attack, the claw, Elias's words—crushed his resistance. "Fine," he muttered. "But if you're lying, I'll kick your ass."
Elias grinned. "That's the spirit. Hold tight."
Before Caleb could react, Elias snapped his fingers, and the world dissolved into a blur of light and shadow. Caleb's stomach lurched, his vision spinning as the hospital room vanished. When the world snapped back into focus, he was somewhere else entirely.
---
The air was cold, sharp with the scent of stone and ozone. Caleb stood—no, wobbled—in a vast chamber carved from glittering crystal. The walls shimmered with veins of blue and violet, casting fractured light across the floor. Strange symbols were etched into the stone, pulsing faintly, like they were alive. His hospital gown was gone, replaced by a simple black shirt and pants that fit too perfectly to be random. His injuries still ached, but the cast was gone, and his ribs felt… less broken.
"What the fuck is this place?" Caleb's voice echoed, his breath visible in the chilly air.
Elias stood a few feet away, his coat billowing slightly despite the still air. "Welcome to the Crucible. Think of it as… wizard boot camp, minus the campfire songs."
Caleb's legs trembled, but he forced himself to stand straight. "You teleported me? Just like that?"
"Perks of the job." Elias gestured to the chamber. "This place is a nexus, a hub for magic. It's where you'll learn to fight, to survive. First step: we test your magic."
Caleb frowned. "My magic? I don't have any magic. I'm not a wizard."
Elias's smile was tight. "Everyone's got a spark, kid. Even you. Come on, let's see what you're made of."
He led Caleb to a raised platform at the chamber's center, where a crystal orb the size of a basketball hovered, glowing softly. "Put your hands on it," Elias instructed. "It'll read your mana, show us what you can do."
Caleb hesitated, then stepped forward, his heart hammering. He didn't believe in magic, not really, but after the wraith, after Elias, he couldn't deny something was happening. He placed his hands on the orb, expecting… something. A tingle, a spark, a fucking light show.
Nothing.
The orb stayed dim, its glow unchanged. Caleb pressed harder, willing it to react, but it was like touching a cold, dead rock. "What's wrong with it?" he asked, his voice sharp.
Elias's face was unreadable. He stepped closer, placing his own hand on the orb. It flared instantly, a riot of colors—red, blue, gold—swirling within. He pulled back, and the light faded. "It's not broken," he said quietly. "You are."
Caleb's stomach dropped. "What?"
Elias didn't meet his eyes. "Your blood… it doesn't produce mana. You're not just low on magic, Caleb. You have none. Zero. Nada."
The words hit like a punch. Caleb stepped back, his hands shaking. "So what? I'm useless? You dragged me here for nothing?"
"Not nothing," Elias said, his voice firm. "You're still the one from the prophecy. Magic or no magic, you're meant for something big. We just… need to figure out what."
Caleb's anger erupted, a white-hot surge that drowned out his pain. "Figure out what? That I'm a fucking failure? You said I'd learn to fight, to survive, and now you're telling me I can't even use magic? What the hell am I supposed to do?"
He spun, his fist slamming into the crystal wall in frustration. The impact should've shattered his hand, but instead, the wall exploded. Crystal shards flew, the chamber shaking as a gaping hole appeared where his fist had struck. Caleb stumbled back, staring at his knuckles—bruised but unbroken.
Elias's eyes widened, a rare flicker of shock crossing his face. "Holy shit."
Caleb's breath came in ragged gasps. "What… what was that?"
Elias stepped to the hole, running a hand over the jagged edges. "That, kid, was you." He turned, his expression a mix of awe and unease. "You're not just magic-less. You're a Nullborn."
"A what?" Caleb's voice was hoarse, his mind reeling.
"Born every hundred years," Elias said, his tone almost reverent. "A human with no mana, no spark. But in its place, you get something else: strength. Raw, unbridled, fuck-the-laws-of-physics strength. You're not a wizard, Caleb. You're a goddamn force of nature."
Caleb stared at his hands, the reality sinking in. No magic. No spells. Just power, raw and untamed, coursing through his veins. He should've been thrilled, but all he felt was rage—rage at the wraith, at Elias, at the prophecy that had upended his life.
"So what now?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous. "You train me to punch monsters? That's the plan?"
Elias's grin returned, but it was sharper, more predatory. "Oh, we're just getting started. You're gonna learn to break more than walls, kid. You're gonna break the fucking world."
Before Caleb could respond, a low growl echoed through the chamber. The air grew heavy, the same suffocating weight he'd felt in the alley. From the shadows, eyes like burning coals appeared, and a shape began to form—claws, teeth, and a hunger that made Caleb's blood run cold.
"Lesson one," Elias said, stepping back and cracking his knuckles. "Survive."
The wraith lunged, and Caleb's world became a blur of instinct and fury.