The rain fell like black needles from the sky, slicing through the cracked streets of the ruined city. Once a jewel of magic and wealth, now it lay in decay—its towers shattered, streets choked with rubble, its air thick with ash and silence. The wind whispered memories of lives long gone, carrying faint echoes of laughter, screams, and promises that had dissolved into nothingness.
Kaelith moved carefully through the ruins, his black, tattered cloak clinging to his thin frame. Each step stirred the scent of wet stone and mold, a reminder that survival was a constant struggle. His hands were streaked with dirt and blood, souvenirs from scavenging through wreckage and fighting off desperate scavengers. Most survivors had vanished, and those few remaining avoided eye contact, their faces masks of suspicion and resignation. Trust had long been rendered meaningless.
He paused at a broken archway, listening. Somewhere far off, a shutter rattled, or maybe it was the wind playing tricks on him. His heartbeat quickened. Despite everything, Kaelith always remained vigilant—after all, the world had taught him that mistakes were fatal.
He pressed against a crumbling wall, scanning the empty street ahead. Then, out of the corner of his eye, something caught his attention—a faint, violet glow emanating from the depths of a ruined fountain. It was subtle at first, just a flicker among the shadows, but it pulsed gently, like a heartbeat. Curiosity warred with caution, but in the end, curiosity won.
Kaelith approached, each step measured, eyes fixed on the shimmering light. The fountain was old, cracked, and half-buried under debris. Yet the glow seemed alive, almost breathing, radiating a warmth that was impossible in a city drowned in cold rain.
He reached out with a trembling hand, brushing the surface of the stone. A wave of light surged into him—not burning, not violent, but illuminating. It was as if a veil had been lifted from his senses. For a moment, Kaelith could see the city differently: the hidden paths through the rubble, the faint traces of old magic etched into stones, the presence of creatures lurking in shadows that he had never noticed before. It was not power in the traditional sense, nor was it strength to strike; it was the ability to see what had been invisible, to perceive threads of truth woven into the ruins themselves.
Kaelith stumbled back, blinking, trying to comprehend what had just happened. The rain splattered on his cloak, soaking through the tattered fabric, but he barely noticed. His hands glowed faintly, not with fire, but with a soft luminescence that pulsed with his heartbeat. Every instinct screamed that he should flee, that this power could overwhelm him if misused. Yet another part of him—the part that had survived the streets, the fights, the loneliness—felt a spark of exhilaration. He had been nothing for so long… and now, for the first time, he could perceive the world in a way that no one else could.
The city itself seemed to hold its breath. The ruins, the shattered towers, the blackened streets—they were silent witnesses to Kaelith's awakening. And somewhere in those shadows, unseen eyes watched. Not human eyes, Kaelith felt. Something older, patient, intelligent. Waiting.
He forced himself to stand, shaking off the awe and fear. He needed to understand this, to explore it. If he failed, he would not survive long in a world like this. He moved carefully through the streets, testing the sensation in his hands. The soft glow revealed hidden cracks in walls, secret alcoves, faint inscriptions of old magic. Every step, every movement made the city feel alive, aware of him, aware of the change within him.
Kaelith's mind wandered to what had been his life until now. Hunger. Pain. Cold nights on broken rooftops. The scorn of others. Being cast aside, beaten down, forgotten. Always forgotten. And yet… here, in the midst of ruin, something had answered him. Something he had not asked for. Something ancient, mysterious, and powerful.
He experimented further, letting the light flow through his senses. Shadows twisted and shifted before his eyes, revealing paths he would never have noticed otherwise. He could sense hidden traps, forgotten rooms, even faint traces of the creatures that roamed the ruins at night. The world had always been cruel, opaque, a labyrinth meant to break him. Now it was offering him glimpses behind the curtain.
The rain poured harder, drenching him, but Kaelith barely felt it. Every drop seemed to highlight the contrasts, the hidden shapes of the ruined city that only he could perceive. This new perception was exhilarating, but also terrifying. If he drew attention, if he misjudged what he saw… he could die.
Somewhere in the distance, a low growl echoed, confirming his fear. But instead of panic, a cautious curiosity rose in him. He could see the creature's outline faintly, moving stealthily through the shadows. Normally, he would have had no chance against it. Now, he could anticipate its movements, read the subtle shifts in its presence. The light within him was not a weapon, but a guide, a revelation of what had been hidden.
Kaelith clenched his fists, feeling the pulse of the light through his veins. He had survived this long by being clever, by hiding, by enduring. Now, he had a tool that could change the balance—if he learned to master it.
And somewhere, deep in the ruins, something stirred. Watching. Silent. Patient. Waiting for the moment when Kaelith would be forced to use this gift to its full extent.
He lifted his head to the sky, letting the rain wash over him. The city was dead, broken, merciless. Yet he—Kaelith—was not finished. Not yet. The light in him was fragile, uncertain, but it was real. It was a force that could reveal what the world had always hidden.
And as he took his first steps into the deeper shadows of the city, Kaelith realized one truth above all: he was no longer merely a survivor. He had become the Seer of the Forsaken, a witness to secrets no one else could see, in a world that had long forgotten mercy.