The rain came down like the gods were trying to drown the earth.
Lucas Dawson pulled his ragged cloak tighter around his shoulders, but the wind tore it open like an angry hand. The path home was a muddy mess, the kind of muck that swallowed boots whole, and of course, tonight was the night he'd been sent out to gather firewood for Old Merra.
The village elders liked to remind him of his "place" — the place of the Affinityless. "No spark, no blessing, no worth," they'd say, shaking their heads. As if being born without elemental affinity was his fault. As if he'd chosen to live life on the bottom rung, fetching wood while others trained to throw fire or summon storms.
A low rumble split the sky, and lightning flashed — not the clean white streaks Lucas had seen before, but a rippling arc of colors, like a rainbow had been sharpened into a blade. It struck somewhere deep in the forest, and the ground shuddered under his feet.
Curiosity beat common sense.
He abandoned his bundle of sticks and pushed through the trees, the rain lashing his face, mud tugging at his boots. The forest grew darker with each step, until the air felt heavy, charged, as if the storm itself was holding its breath.
Then he saw it — a jagged tear in the earth, steam rising from the edges, as though the ground had been struck by a giant hammer from the sky. And down in that fissure… light. Not just one color, but all of them, swirling together like liquid jewels.
Lucas slid down the muddy slope before he could talk himself out of it. The light pulsed from a single object resting on a stone pedestal — a sphere the size of a clenched fist, perfectly smooth, yet shifting in color every second. Red bled into blue, blue into gold, gold into green, the whole thing shimmering like a captured rainbow.
The Rainbow Orb.
He didn't know how he knew its name, but the words echoed in his mind, like a memory that wasn't his. Legends told in whispers spoke of a relic older than the kingdoms, forged when the first elements were born. It was said to hold every affinity, a treasure sought by emperors, heroes… and tyrants.
And it was here. In front of him.
Lucas's breath caught. He should leave it. Report it. Tell someone with the skill to handle it. But another thought slithered in — if he brought it to the elders, they'd take it away, lock it up, maybe even sell it to the highest bidder. And he'd still be the same useless boy.
His fingers moved before his brain agreed.
The instant his skin touched the orb, light exploded.
Not outward — inward. Into him.
It was like being set on fire and frozen solid at the same time. His heart slammed against his ribs, his vision flooded with shifting colors. He could hear… no, feel… the crackle of lightning, the rush of water, the whisper of wind, the growl of stone. Something else, too — darker, deeper, a chaotic rhythm that didn't belong to any element he knew.
He tried to let go, but his hand wouldn't move. The orb's colors spun faster, until they bled into pure white. A voice, ancient and thunderous, roared inside his skull:
"Bearer of all, vessel of none… let us see if you survive."
The light vanished. Lucas dropped to his knees, gasping. The orb was gone — no, not gone. It was inside him. His veins glowed faintly before fading back to normal, leaving only a faint, prismatic shimmer in his eyes.
Above, the storm had stopped. The forest was silent.
Then, from somewhere beyond the trees, a horn sounded. Deep. Hunting.
Lucas didn't know who they were, or how they already knew. But he did know one thing — whatever had just happened, he wasn't the Affinityless boy anymore.
And someone was coming for him.