The bells of Drakensport tolled like iron hammers against the morning sky.
Children flooded the plaza, their voices alive with nervous laughter and excitement. Parents whispered prayers to the gods, hands clutching charms against their hearts. Priests in long white robes glided across the stone floor, drawing glowing sigils that pulsed with holy light.
Today was the Oath Ceremony. The day when a child's Oath Sigil — their destiny — would be revealed before all.
Kael Ardent lingered at the very back of the crowd, leaning against a weathered stone wall. His clothes were worn, his boots half-ruined, his black hair falling untidily over his eyes. He kept his gaze low, as if the cracked stones beneath his feet were the only things worth looking at.
At seventeen, Kael already knew his truth.
Every child manifested their Oath Sigil by age seven. Some bore glowing marks on their palms, others on their chest or forehead. Flames, swords, stars, animals — symbols of the destiny carved into their souls. Proof the gods had not abandoned them.
Kael had nothing.
No crest. No glow. No fate.
"Hollow Soul," the people called him. A boy cursed by heaven.
A cheer erupted from the plaza, pulling his eyes forward. A girl stood at the center of the circle, bathed in golden light.
Lyra.
Her hair shimmered like spun sunlight, her expression caught between pride and shyness. Behind her, wings of radiant light unfurled — her Oath of Wings. She rose into the air effortlessly, her first flight drawing gasps of awe from the crowd.
"She's blessed," someone whispered.
"The gods smile on her," another said.
Lyra smiled nervously at the cheering citizens. Then her gaze swept the crowd, past nobles, priests, soldiers… until her eyes found Kael.
Her smile softened.
Kael's chest tightened. He tried to smile back, but it felt weak, crooked. She was soaring. He was still crawling.
He turned his gaze to the sky. The sun gleamed above, yet a darkness was creeping across its face. The moon, sliding into place.
The air grew colder. Shadows stretched long and sharp.
The priests faltered mid-chant. Birds burst from the rooftops, scattering into the darkened horizon.
A whisper slithered through the crowd.
"The Eclipse…"
Kael's heartbeat thundered. His lips moved without thought, carrying the vow he'd made to himself a hundred times in silence but never aloud:
"One day, I'll prove I was born for something."
As if the heavens themselves had heard him, the sun vanished behind the black disc of the moon.
The world fell into shadow.
And then came the roar.
From the sky, rifts tore open like jagged wounds, spilling darkness into the air. Shapes writhed within — monstrous, twisted things with eyes that gleamed like embers. Abyssal Beasts.
Screams split the plaza. Priests scrambled, soldiers drew blades, children wept as their parents clutched them close.
Kael's breath caught. His body screamed to run, but his legs rooted him in place as the first beast — a wolf with jaws of fire and shadow — crashed onto the plaza stones.
It snarled, baring fangs that dripped molten light.
And in its reflection, Kael saw himself.
Small. Weak. Hollow.
Yet for the first time in his life, something inside him whispered back.
Move.
The Abyssal wolf lunged, its molten fangs aimed at a cluster of children frozen in terror.
Kael's body moved before his mind could catch up. He shoved the children aside and raised his arms — though what defense could bare skin give against fire and shadow?
The jaws closed around him.
But instead of pain, a searing light exploded.
A crystal — jagged, otherworldly, glowing with symbols no tongue could name — tore through the rift above and pierced Kael's chest.
The world seemed to stop.
Kael gasped as the shard fused with him, burning into his soul. Symbols flared across his vision, chains of light snapping, rewriting. He felt the wolf's Oath — the fire, the shadow, the hunger — and something inside him reached out, grasping it.
And then, it broke.
The wolf froze mid-lunge, eyes wide with unnatural fear. Its blazing jaws disintegrated into streams of light that swirled into Kael's hands. Power flooded him, wild and untamed, yet his.
Gasps filled the plaza.
"The Hollow… he—he stole the beast's Oath!"
"No! That's impossible!"
"Blasphemy!"
Kael staggered, his body trembling from the surge of alien strength. His reflection stared back at him in the beast's molten eyes — no longer Hollow. No longer empty.
For the first time in his life, he felt full. Alive.
The wolf collapsed into ash at his feet.
Silence choked the plaza. Then, as if a dam broke, voices erupted.
"He's cursed!"
"The gods never gave him an Oath — he took one!"
"Kill him before it spreads!"
Soldiers advanced, priests raised their staves, and even the parents of the children he'd saved pulled them away, shielding them from his touch.
Kael's breath came fast and sharp. He looked down at his trembling hands, still glowing faintly with stolen fire.
"What… am I?" he whispered.
The answer came in the form of a voice, booming from the temple steps.
"Heretic."
The high priest of Drakensport stood tall, his eyes burning with divine fury. He pointed his staff at Kael, the gem at its tip flaring.
"No Hollow may wield the Oaths of the gods. By decree of heaven, your existence is a sin."
Kael's eyes widened. Lyra pushed through the crowd, shouting his name — but soldiers blocked her path.
Chains of light surged toward him.
The chapter closes as Kael stumbles backward, his heart racing, realizing the truth:
The gods had never forgotten him.
They had marked him for death.