Chapter 1: The Boy Who Doesn't Fall
The sky above Ramman Citadel was the color of old iron that night.
That wasn't unusual. The sky here rarely cleared.
What was unusual was the boy sitting on the edge of the highest platform of the abandoned watchtower, swinging his legs over a thirty-meter drop like a man who had made peace with gravity long ago.
Kayan.
Twelve years old. Hair black and chaotic as storm clouds. Eyes the grey of dead embers — but if you looked long enough, something burned beneath the ash. On his left cheek, three thin lines ran parallel, not from battle, not from accident. Birthmarks. The kind that made people look away.
The mark of the one who carries the First Ghoul.
He spoke quietly, addressing the wind:
"I know you can hear me."
No answer came. But somewhere deep in his chest, between two ribs, something held its breath.
Kayan smiled. It wasn't the smile of a child.
"Fine. Keep quiet. But tomorrow I'm entering the Academy whether you like it or not."
Laughter rose from below. He looked down. A group of boys, pointing up at him.
"Look! The son of nobody, up on his broken tower!"
"Why haven't you fallen yet, Kayan?"
"Because even the ground doesn't want him!"
More laughter. Then retreating footsteps.
Kayan didn't move. He simply stared at the horizon — the Seven Citadels glowing in the distance like stars that had fallen and decided to stay — and said in a voice no one heard:
"I'll surpass every single one of you. Not for revenge."
A pause.
"But because there's something inside me that deserves to be seen."
And in his chest — for the first time in years — the First Ghoul pulsed. Once. Then silence.
But Kayan felt it.
And so the story began.