It began quietly, almost imperceptibly. At first, it was just whispers of change — a farmer bending metal with a thought, a child speaking without moving their lips, a scholar seeing the threads of probability twist before their eyes.
Then the skies shimmered. The oceans roared with a new rhythm. The very earth seemed to pulse, alive with an energy that no one could name, no one could control — yet.
Those who first touched it were called the Awakened.
They rose swiftly, guided by instinct and hunger. With every generation, the gifts spread, branching into schools, factions, and societies.
Power was no longer a secret; it was the law.
Empires were built in decades that used to take centuries. Wars were won with thought, cities reshaped by a gesture, life and death rewritten by the strongest hands.
And in the shadows of this surge, life as it had been known ceased to exist.
It didn't stop there. The Awakened weren't content with just reshaping their own world. With their greatest minds, they began to create — forging weapons, machines, and entire constructs of unimaginable power.
They reached beyond the stars, claiming planets, bending moons, and weaving the raw fabric of life to their will.
Civilizations sprang up across galaxies, ruled not by chance or birthright, but by the strength of one's awakening. Empires of light, empires of shadow — all interconnected in a web of ambition and supremacy.
Planets once thought isolated now hummed with the energy of countless gifted beings, each vying for knowledge, for dominion, for the ultimate understanding of the force that bound them all.
And as they rose, the universe itself began to tremble under the weight of their ambition.
But not all of them sought worlds beyond. Some stayed on Earth, tethered by love, memory, or the simple truth that it was home. They chose to build, to protect, to live without conquest.
It was among these that a boy was born.
His father wielded telekinesis with a strength that could crush mountains; his mother commanded lightning with a grace that could split the sky. Their son didn't seem to inherit neither, though in ways no one yet understood. Dark-skinned like his father, yet carrying the startlingly blue eyes of his mother, his presence was normal.
His hair fell long, a cascade of midnight that shimmered faintly in the light.
Even at birth, there was a weight to him — a quiet knowing that he was different. A child born not just into a world of the Awakened, but into a moment.
And though the universe surged outward, building empires and intergalactic civilizations, this boy's story would begin quietly, on the world his parents refused to abandon.
This boy was classed as a unawakened. Unawakened are not treated horrible the opposite actually due to some governments like there blood they. Get the unawakened blood and use it for different resources, And they get tons of money in return so it is a win-win for both sides
The boy grew up under careful guidance. His parents, aware that he had no obvious awakening, taught him everything they could.
He learned to fight, not as the gifted did, but as one who had to rely on skill, strategy, and instinct.
His father showed him the precision of telekinetic combat, translating it into movements the boy could mimic. His mother taught him discipline, agility, and how to read an opponent's intent, as well as the dangers of lightning and speed.
By the time he turned twenty, he could move with the grace and confidence of a seasoned fighter. Weapons that would be unwieldy to others felt natural in his hands, and he knew how to hold his own against the gifted — if only just.
When he first began living alone, the silence of his new home was weird again to him. At first, it was hard, each day marked by the absence of his parents' guidance and the constant hum of a world alive with power.
But over time, he discovered something unexpected: he was fine. More than fine.
Strangely enough, he felt at peace. The solitude wasn't lonely; it was a space he could control, a place where he could exist without expectation or judgment.
To him, this small place was perfect. Months passed, and life felt manageable.
He had a steady job, earned enough to live comfortably, and even continued donating his blood — a small contribution to the system that valued the unawakened.
Yet there was something missing.
He never really talked to a girl, and for some strange reason, they frightened him. Perhaps it was the way his mother had warned him about the dangers of getting close, or maybe it was just how he had always been.
Then, one evening, everything changed.
He lay in bed, lazily watching anime, the soft glow of the screen filling the quiet room. Suddenly, a loud burst tore through the night sky, followed by a deafening crash. The object struck his home, splintering walls and shaking the floor beneath him.
Strangely, he did not die.
Before he could react, the object — strange, humming with energy he couldn't name — seemed to merge with his body, as if it belonged there. Pain seared through him, and he blacked out.
When he awoke, it was to the sterile scent of a hospital.
Light streamed in through the blinds, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw someone sitting calmly in a chair beside the bed.
The woman sitting before him was impossible to ignore.
A long scar ran across her neck and down her chest, a silent testament to battles survived. She wore a black suit, crisp and immaculate, with a red tie that stood out like a streak of blood.
Her hair fell in a flawless waterfall down her back, black as a bat's wing, contrasting sharply with her skin — pale and delicate, almost otherworldly, like a fairy untouched by time.
Her eyes, a soft brown, carried a calm authority that was both comforting and unnerving.
She held a tablet casually in one hand, her legs crossed with perfect poise, radiating a quiet, unshakable power.
When she looked at him, her gaze seemed to pierce through every layer he had built around himself — yet it was soft, almost gentle, as if she already understood more about him than he did about himself.
"You're awake," she said, her voice smooth, steady, and filled with a weight that made him sit up straighter without realizing it.
He wanted to speak, to ask questions, but the words caught in his throat.
Something about her — the calm in the storm of the hospital, the scar that whispered of survival, the presence that demanded attention — made him pause.
She didn't rush him. She just waited, her tablet resting lightly on her lap, her eyes never leaving him.
And in that silence, he felt it — a pull, subtle but undeniable, like the first thread of a force he had never known, brushing against the edges of his being.
"My name is Selene Veyra." Her voice carried through the room, vibrating off the walls, sharp and commanding.
"Your house was hit by an enemy alien, Mr…" She glanced down at her tablet, then back at him, her soft brown eyes steady and piercing.
"Riven Watts… an… unique name."
A faint pause.
"Ahem. Did you see anything strange? Anything unusual… or the object that struck your house?" She lightly taps on her tablet as she doesn't look away from the young man.
He would keep his vision down avoiding her. "N-no ma'am all I saw was my roof breaking next thing i know..i was here" he speaks out softly voice hardly above a whisper.
She would note that down as her eyes flickers a tiny bit blue. She would nod and stands "thank you for the information if you have anything to report contact verya household" she would step out without another word
He would lay back and thinks verya household? That have to be the fifth one that had came to be.
First was the goverment, second the church, Third a devil worshipper household that formed from nowhere, the fourth being poor household and the fifth one being the verya household.
He didn't really care that much but his mother and father forced that knowledge into him at a young age. He groans and leans up slowly as he looks at his hands confused, an alien crashed into his house why was aliens even near earth. What was the goverment doing
Riven would lays his head back closing his eyes. As his eyes fully closed his drowsy starts catching up to him as he falls back asleep, When he does he opens his eyes again to a strange thing in front of him.
At the center of the being is blinding radiant white light glowing with such intensity that it overpowers everything around it From this core of brilliance
Surrounding this central light is a swirling, vortex-like whirlpool of dark, shadowy tendrils. These tendrils are not smooth — they appear alive, twisting and writhing, as though composed of some liquid darkness or smoke-like substance
Embedded within the swirling darkness are countless unblinking eyes, white with slit-like pupils resembling those of a reptile or serpent.
Their placement is unnatural: spread randomly, yet orderly enough to imply consciousness and intent. Each eye peers outward, creating a disturbing sense of surveillance, as though the entity is aware of everything at once.
The strange alien just stared at riven and riven stares back. The two couldn't speak or think they just stared at each other as strange purple lighting starts sparking from between them.
Riven held out both his hands as the strange alien shrinked down and floated into his hand. And riven held it close to his chest as he curled up in this strange dark place, the alien slowly faded into his chest.
Riven slowly awakens groaning and rubs his head. He would rubs his arm sighing, He looks at a clock and whispers out "oh..shit" he gets out the bed, and when he touch the ground he shudder.
"C-cold…" Riven muttered again, sinking back onto the bed. He groaned, rubbing at his eyes, trying to push away the weight of exhaustion.
But then, memory hit him — that strange vision, the light, the shadows, the countless eyes. The thought alone made his body shiver.
He shook his head quickly, forcing a crooked smile to break the unease.
"Maybe… maybe it was a gift," he whispered to himself. Testing the thought, he stretched out a hand toward his shoes on the floor. "A… gif—"
The shoes shot across the room like bullets.
They smacked him square in the face, knocking him back into the bed with a grunt.
"Argh—!" Riven clutched at his nose, groaning in pain, before freezing mid-movement. His eyes widened.
Slowly, he lowered his hand and stared at the shoes now resting beside him.
He had moved them.
Not by lifting. Not by throwing. Not by touching.
But by will.
The pain in his face dulled beneath the rush of realization. His heart hammered in his chest as the weight of it sank in. He wasn't unawakened anymore.
He was finally an awakener…an gift user he quickly grabs the shoes wirh a smile and leans upwards.
He didn't waste time and tried to float the shoes but nothing happened he groaned sadly as he hears a small chuckle, He would turn and see a small being like the one he saw in his dream
It spoke to him wirh his voice "how interesting that it is someone with a telekinesis gift"
The words sent a chill down his spine. Hearing himself speak from it felt wrong, yet magnetic.
Riven's breath caught, his mind racing. This wasn't just a dream anymore. The thing from before was here. Watching him. Speaking to him.
And somehow… bound to him. The strange thing spoke again "Hello!! I'm talking to you! Humans. Always such prideful creatures!" Riven would falls out his bed and and goes to run but stops.
As he turns to the creature overthinking multiple possibilities of what it is.. until he came to a conclusion he says softly "Your…my gift?"
The being's eyes narrowed—if such a thing could even be read as expression—and then a grin split across its shadowed form.
The being froze for a heartbeat, then suddenly burst out with gleeful triumph:
"DING DING~!" it rang out, loud and proud, like a game show buzzer echoing in his skull. The sound made Riven flinch, clutching at his ears even though it wasn't really in the room.
The creature's many eyes blinked in erratic unison, its smoky tendrils curling with delight.
"See? Not so slow after all," it crooned, voice dripping with mock praise. "A clever little human. A lucky little human."
Riven stayed crouched against the bedframe, heart hammering, staring at the thing as though it might lunge at him at any second.
"…So… what does that make you?" he asked cautiously.
The being leaned closer, countless eyes locking onto his.
"Me?" it hissed, grin widening unnaturally.
"I'm what makes you more than an normal awakener."
"What does that mean..do I have a reality power?" Riven spoke to the strange thing hoping it was so.
"No! Unlike most people your gift is connected to something call the veil. The veil is the hidden universe"
"Your power allows you the basic telekinesis with enough growth and training you could take gifts" the creature whispered out like a dirty secret.
"The Awakened scratch at the surface of creation with their gifts. But you, Riven Watts… you are the veil of gift the dark secret of them all"
The creature chuckled, low and rattling, as its tendrils curled tighter around the room.
"Not take," it corrected, savoring the word.
"Taking is kind. Taking leaves something behind."
It leaned in, so close Riven felt his skin crawl, its countless eyes gleaming with cruel amusement.
"You'll be eating their gift. Devouring it. And once consumed, it will not return. Their power will be gone forever."
Riven's throat went dry. "…And where does it go?"
The being's grin widened, stretching beyond the edges of its face.
"Home," it whispered. "Into your home. Into the Veil. To be kept. To be used. To be yours."
The weight of those words pressed down on him like chains — both terrifying and intoxicating
Riven slowly glazed down at his hands and smile slowly.
-End of chapter 1-
A/N:
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