The mountain winds howled like a thousand unseen beasts. Each gust tore through the abandoned valley, carrying with it whispers of the fallen sect that once ruled here.
Kael stood before the fractured stone gate, his hand brushing against the ancient carvings. They were faded, yet each stroke seemed to pulse faintly beneath his skin. He had read about such runes—remnants of sealing techniques that only true masters could craft.
His breath misted in the cold air. This was their final defense… and their grave.
For days, Kael had wandered alone, his body battered from endless skirmishes with wandering beasts. Yet none of those battles compared to the weight pressing down upon him now. The valley wasn't just ruins—it was a tomb of forgotten glory.
A crunch of gravel echoed behind him. Kael turned sharply, his hand instinctively reaching for the crude blade at his side. From the shadows of the broken wall, a figure emerged.
It was a boy, ragged and thin, perhaps no older than twelve. His eyes burned with hunger, but deeper still, with fear.
"You don't belong here," the boy said, his voice trembling yet stubborn.
Kael studied him for a long moment. The child's clothes were tattered, his bare feet cut from climbing the jagged terrain. Yet he stood tall, defiance etched into his frame.
"I could say the same," Kael replied quietly. "This place swallows the living. Why stay?"
The boy's jaw tightened. "Because it is all I have left. My clan… they were taken. If I leave, even their memory dies."
For a heartbeat, silence stretched between them, broken only by the wail of the mountain wind.
Kael lowered his blade. He knew that pain too well—the ache of losing everything, the hollow rage of being cast aside. Forsaken.
"The world won't remember the weak," Kael murmured. His voice was more to himself than the boy. "If you want their memory to survive, then you must carve it into the world with your own strength."
The boy's eyes widened, a spark igniting within them.
And for the first time since stepping onto this forsaken path, Kael felt something stir inside his chest—not just anger, not just vengeance, but the faintest trace of purpose.
The runes on the broken gate flickered faintly, as if answering the unspoken vow that had just been born.
The boy's stare lingered on Kael, half-wary, half-hopeful. For a moment, Kael almost turned away. Taking on a burden was dangerous; in this world, even carrying your own weight was a battle.
But the faint pulse from the runes on the shattered gate drew his eyes back. The symbols were breathing—slow, steady, like the heart of a slumbering beast.
Kael placed his palm against the cold stone. A jolt ran through him. His vision blurred, and for an instant, he was standing not in ruins but in a grand courtyard. Golden banners rippled in phantom winds, disciples sparred beneath the watchful gaze of statues, and a blazing sun crowned the mountain peak.
Then it was gone.
His knees buckled as he stumbled back. The taste of iron filled his mouth—blood, warm and bitter.
"Are you… are you alright?" the boy asked, taking a step forward but not daring to come closer.
Kael's breathing was ragged, but his eyes shone with clarity. "This gate… it's not broken. It's sealed. And whoever left it behind… they wanted only those who've been cast aside to find it."
The boy frowned, not understanding.
Kael straightened, forcing himself to stand tall. He pressed his hand once more against the rune. This time, he let the rage and loneliness buried in his bones rise. Every betrayal, every night of hunger, every wound that nearly ended him—he poured it into the seal.
The rune flared.
The mountain wind fell silent, as if holding its breath. Cracks spread across the stone, glowing with an eerie silver light. The ground trembled beneath their feet.
Kael's vision blurred again, but this time, he did not resist. He felt something surge into him—raw, untamed essence, neither pure nor corrupted, but heavy with forgotten wills. His dantian burned like fire, then froze like ice, then expanded as if something within him had been unshackled.
He gasped, clutching his chest. It wasn't pain—it was awakening.
Behind him, the boy stared wide-eyed, unable to move, as the gate split open just enough for a faint stream of light to seep through.This chapter marks Kael's first true step on the path of the forsaken. The broken gate is more than a barrier—it tests his will and awakens his hidden strength.
Kael wiped the blood from his lips, his face pale but resolute. "The path begins here."
The boy swallowed hard, then whispered, "What path?"
Kael's eyes narrowed, reflecting the faint glow of the ancient seal.