It did not begin with sound.
It began with silence.
The kind of silence that comes before creation. Before wind. Before thought. A silence so deep it pressed against the skin of reality itself.
Then, the sky cracked.
Not in the heavens above—but in the space between realms. Somewhere beyond magic and meaning, between the old gods and the forgotten truths.
A tear opened in the veil of existence.
And from that wound, he descended.
Not born. Not summoned.
Falling.
Like a soul the world had tried—and failed—to reject.
The continent of Varell was vast. It was a land stitched together by ancient pacts and quiet fear. Magic ran like rivers beneath the soil, surfacing in strange blooms: floating islands, whispering forests, stones that bled when cracked.
Empires ruled from behind golden walls.
The Guilds watched the wilds.
The Churches preached about balance—about the system that measured souls and assigned class trees to every living thing.
No one was born without a path.
Until now.
High in the Halden Ridge, the world held its breath.
A storm rolled in without clouds.
The earth shivered—not physically, but with memory.
And then—
A flash of red light.
No thunder.
Just impact.
The snows parted in an instant and the trees bent like servants. A crater formed—it was neat, almost surgical—in what was the ice-cloaked plateau.
At its center: a boy.
Newborn. Naked. Silent.
His skin steamed in the cold.
His eyes were already open.
And they were glowing with a light that did not belong to this world.
The villagers found him by chance. Hunters saw him first but they dared not to approach.
They saw how the frost had melted around him.
They watched the mist rise in perfect spirals.
They watched the way birds refused to fly above the crater.
"What… is he?"
"A fallen star?"
"A curse?"
"A test?"
None of them claimed him. None would touch him.
Except her.
Elarin Akari, stepped forward. She didn't flinch. Didn't pray. She simply knelt, wrapped the boy in her woolen shawl, and whispered:
"You're not alone."
The moment her hand touched his forehead, the glow dimmed.
And for the first time since the sky cracked—
He blinked.
But far away—beyond the borders of maps and kings—something noticed.
In a Spire buried beneath a frozen sea, ancient relics came alive.
In a Crimson Vault with no doors, a silent bell rang.
And on a skybound island sealed by the Unbreaking Law, a thousand-year-old scroll updated itself.
[ ANOMALY DETECTED ]
[ CLASS SIGNATURE: WORLDBREAKER — INCOMPLETE ]
[ MONITORING PROTOCOL: INITIATED ]
[ CATASTROPHIC POTENTIAL: UNLOCKED — SEALED — DORMANT ]
In the months that followed, Elarin and her husband Finlen raised him as their own.
They named him Rei—after a word Elarin read in a book read long ago.
"Spirit. Soul. Edge of dawn."
The villagers watched.
They watched the wind shift when he screamed.
They watched the hearthlight flicker when he laughed.
They watched him and whispered.
He was not like the others.
And one day, he would realize it too.