No one remembers the exact day it started. Not because it wasn't important, but because everything that followed made it feel small in comparison.
They call it the Cataclysm now, like giving it a name somehow makes it easier to understand. It doesn't.
At first, people thought it was just strange behavior. Animals migrating at the wrong time, packs moving into cities, things like that. Then came the aggression. Then the changes.
Bodies stopped making sense. Bones grew where they shouldn't. Creatures that had never existed before began showing up in places that used to feel safe. A stray dog tearing through an armed patrol wasn't the worst of it, just the first thing people couldn't ignore. After that, things escalated quickly. Flocks of birds swallowed the sky whole and never came down. Entire towns went silent overnight, and when people finally went looking, there was nothing left to find.
Humanity didn't collapse in one clean moment. It dragged on. Governments tried to respond, then failed. Systems broke down one after another until there was nothing left holding things together. Communication died, power grids followed, and suddenly survival stopped meaning living and started meaning getting through the next few hours.
For a while, all people did was run. It didn't matter where, as long as it was away from whatever was chasing them.
The real problem wasn't just how strong the beasts were. It was how they learned. They adapted, hunted with intent, started showing something close to understanding. It felt wrong watching them, like they were remembering something they had once been instead of becoming something new.
Something older than humans.
Something that had no place in the world people used to know.
Still, humans didn't stop fighting. Not because they thought they could win, but because the alternative wasn't really an option. Guns still worked, but not well enough. Not against things that could heal, that could survive injuries that should have killed them. Cities turned into traps, so people abandoned them and moved into whatever spaces they could defend. Small groups formed first, then larger ones. Makeshift walls, watch rotations, anything that could hold long enough to make it through another night.
It might have stayed that way if nothing had changed.
But something did.
The story always starts the same way. A girl, maybe sixteen, cornered by a dying beast. Some say it was luck. Others say it was instinct. No one really knows what happened in those last moments.
What matters is that she didn't die.
Instead, the beast stopped.
And somehow, she bound it.
Not physically. No chains, no restraints. It was something else, something no one had seen before and couldn't explain even after it started happening again.
They called it taming, because they didn't have a better word.
At first, people didn't believe it. The idea of controlling the very things that were wiping them out sounded ridiculous. But it kept happening. Not often, not easily, but enough that people couldn't ignore it anymore.
And when it did happen, something inside the human changed.
That was when Aspects started appearing.
Each person who formed a contract with a beast awakened something different. It wasn't visible right away, but it was there, shaping how they moved, how they fought, how they survived. Some people became faster, their senses sharper than anything normal. Others developed raw strength that made weapons feel unnecessary. A few gained abilities that didn't make sense at all—controlling elements, distorting what others saw, even recovering from injuries that should have ended them.
It didn't take long for people to understand the rule behind it.
Your Aspect came from your beast.
Not just loosely connected, but tied to it in a way that couldn't be separated. If your beast was weak, your Aspect would be weak. If your beast was powerful, then so were you. And if you managed to bind something truly dangerous, something with a deeper, older bloodline, then you stopped being ordinary in every way that mattered.
That was when everything changed.
Humanity stopped trying to survive.
And started trying to grow stronger.
Over time, scattered groups became organized. Organized groups became structured. Eventually, from what was left of the old world, something new formed.
The Federation.
It wasn't built on ideals or hope. It was built on results. They studied the beasts instead of fearing them, cut them open, tracked their patterns, tried to understand how they evolved and why some were stronger than others. That's where the idea of bloodlines came from.
Primordial lineage, they called it. Every beast carried a trace of something ancient, something that determined how far it could grow. The stronger the lineage, the more dangerous the evolution, and the more valuable the beast.
Taming stopped being random after that.
The Federation turned it into a system. Controlled zones were created, places where young candidates could attempt their first contract under supervision. Academies were built. Training became standardized. Kids were tested early, watched closely, prepared for the moment that would decide everything.
Because once you formed your first contract, your path was set.
Arthur stood at the edge of one of those cities, looking out past the walls.
From up here, everything looked stable. Reinforced structures, clean divisions, watchtowers spaced evenly along the perimeter. It almost felt like things were under control.
But past the walls, the world still belonged to the beasts.
You could feel it, even from a distance. Something about the air changed, heavier somehow, like the city was holding it back by force.
"First time seeing it like this?"
Arthur didn't turn. He already knew the voice.
Kade leaned against the railing beside him, as if he had always been there. He had that kind of presence—quiet, but constant.
"Yeah," Arthur said. "From up here, I mean."
Kade followed his gaze. "Looks normal, doesn't it?"
"A little."
"That's how it gets you," Kade said. "You start thinking it's not that bad. Then you step outside and realize how wrong you were."
Arthur didn't respond right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the horizon, where the structured lines of the city gave way to something far less predictable.
Somewhere out there were beasts no one had managed to classify yet. Creatures strong enough to wipe out entire squads. Bloodlines that went deeper than anything the Federation had documented.
And somewhere out there were answers he hadn't been able to find inside the walls.
About his father.
About what actually happened.
"You'll get your chance soon," Kade said, his tone shifting slightly. "They'll send you to a controlled zone. You know how it works."
Arthur nodded.
Everyone did.
"One contract," Kade continued. "Maybe two if they think you're worth it." The silence after conveyed more thant it should have.
No beast meant no Aspect. No Aspect meant no place in this world.
You could still exist, but that was about it.
Arthur let out a slow breath, thinking about something he hadn't said out loud before.
"What if I don't go for something strong?"
Kade glanced at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"Everyone goes after the same types," Arthur said. "Predators, high lineage beasts, anything that looks powerful."
"Because they are powerful."
Arthur didn't argue with that.
"And the ones that aren't?" he asked instead.
Kade didn't answer immediately.
He didn't have to.
Everyone knew.
Those were the ones left behind, ignored, dismissed as useless. Most of them never survived long enough to evolve into anything better.
Arthur rested his arms against the railing, still looking out into the distance.
"Strength isn't always obvious at the start," he said.
Kade studied him for a moment, then shook his head with a faint smile.
"You're thinking too much. That's usually how bad decisions start."
"Maybe," Arthur said, not sounding convinced either way.
A transport craft passed overhead, loud enough to pull their attention upward for a moment. It was heading toward the outer zones, carrying the next group of candidates.
Another set of people stepping into a world that didn't care if they came back.
Arthur watched it until it disappeared.
He expected to feel nervous, or at least uncertain, but there wasn't much of anything there. Just a quiet kind of certainty that had been building for a while now.
Whatever happened next, he was already set on it.
Somewhere deep inside him, something shifted.
Not enough to notice unless you were paying attention.
But it was there.
Waiting.