The moonlit sky loomed over the rocky streets below, casting silver shadows that danced with the wind. Solvane stood on his balcony, a habit he'd never outgrown. Watching the common folk go about their lives gave him a strange sense of peace—one untouched by time or memory.
Sleep evaded him again.
It had been four years since the incident—the night he lost his life. Or so he thought. The last thing he remembered was his father's face, twisted in fear or fury, before everything went black. When he awoke, he was in his bed, dressed in fresh clothes, with no wounds, no pain. Not a single mark to prove it had happened.
His father never spoke of it. Not once. It was as if the moment had been erased from existence. Solvane had tried convincing himself it was all a dream, but deep down, he knew it wasn't.
Still, that wasn't why he couldn't sleep tonight.
Yesterday, he turned fifteen—the age of legal adulthood. The age when unique abilities were supposed to awaken. But nothing stirred within him. No tug in his chest. No surge of power. Just silence.
The Golden Aspers ruled because of their gifts: near-infinite stamina, rapid healing, and abilities that bent reality. Solvane was told he'd feel a pressure in his heart when his power awakened. But the pressure never came.
He began to wonder—was it because he'd entered that forbidden room?
Some called him a late bloomer. But to his father and the Council, his failure was a stain on their legacy. Still, Solvane wasn't worried. In fact, he felt a strange relief. Ever since the incident, Master Fog had vanished. His replacement was a mediocre instructor—one Solvane could defeat with ease. He trained alone, growing stronger in secret, letting them believe the trainer was responsible.
"Maybe if they think I have no potential," he whispered to himself, "I can finally live freely. Leave these walls. See the world."
His thoughts were interrupted.
A man approached, cloaked in midnight blue. He bowed slightly and said, "Your Highness... it's time."