Raiven awoke to the sharp blare of his alarm, his body resisting as he buried his face deeper into the pillow. Today was his sixteenth birthday—his Special Day—but unlike the other Zyres who had gone through this before him, he felt no excitement. The weight of tradition pressed down on him, heavier than ever. The ritual, the expectations, the inevitable fight—it all felt like a predetermined fate he had no say in.
Dragging himself out of bed, he moved through the motions of getting ready, his thoughts clouded with frustration. The aroma of breakfast drifted through the air, but before he could make it down the hall, Nyra was already waiting outside his door, arms crossed, smirk firmly in place.
"Finally up, birthday boy? Or should I say, soon-to-be warrior of the Zyre?" she teased, her voice thick with amusement.
Raiven scowled. "Don't, Nyra."
"Oh, come on! This is supposed to be the most exciting day of your life. You're acting like you're being sent to execution."
"Maybe I am!" he snapped, his patience already wearing thin. "Not all of us want to be locked into some ancient cycle before we even get a say."
Nyra's smirk wavered, but she held her ground. "You think you're different? That you get to choose? We're Zyres, Raiven. This is what we are. What you are."
His hands curled into fists, his anger rising. "Maybe I don't want to be like you."
She let out a sharp laugh. "Like me? You should be so lucky. At least I'm not scared of what I am. Maybe that's why you don't deserve—"
A sudden force pulsed through the air. The lights overhead flickered violently, the walls trembled, and a nearby vase cracked, though it didn't shatter. The air around them seemed to hum with energy, thick and tangible, pressing against the walls as if the entire building had become aware of him.
Nyra took a startled step back, eyes widening as Raiven's breathing grew ragged. Then, his vision blurred, and a sharp, searing pain ignited deep within his chest.
A low, guttural cry tore from his throat, like something ancient being awoken. His hands clenched, and for a moment, it felt as if something inside him burned—not physically, but deeper, in a way he couldn't explain. His eyes—he knew something was happening to them. He could feel the change, the unnatural shift, though he couldn't see it.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the sensation faded, leaving him gasping on the floor.
Nyra recovered quickly, though a flicker of unease remained in her gaze. But then, something unexpected happened—just for a second, a faint ripple of energy pulsed from her, like an echo of Raiven's own burst. It didn't crack the walls, didn't shake the house, but he felt it. So did she.
Nyra exhaled sharply, staring down at her hands. "Well, well... looks like we're both in for a surprise."
Raiven stormed past her, heart hammering. Whatever had just happened… it felt like the beginning of something he wasn't ready for.
**********************************
His older brother, Khael, leaned against the sleek black car, watching as Raiven approached. "You good?"
Raiven yanked open the passenger door and slumped into the seat. "Peachy."
Khael slid behind the wheel, his expression knowing. "Nyra again?"
Raiven scoffed. "She acts like this is some great honor. Like we should be grateful to be part of it. What if I don't want this? What if I don't want to fight?"
Khael sighed, keeping his eyes on the road as they pulled out. "I get it, Raiv. I really do. It's scary. But you're stronger than you think. You'll get through this."
Raiven stared out the window, his mind churning. "I just wish I had a choice."
Khael's grip on the steering wheel tightened before he said, "Maybe you do. Maybe you just haven't figured it out yet."
Something about the way he said it made Raiven glance at him sharply, but Khael said nothing more.
**********************************
Veyla Academy stood tall, its gothic spires looming as Raiven stepped onto campus. Despite its supernatural student body, the school itself felt no different from any normal institution—hallways filled with chatter, students rushing to classes, the occasional tension of teenage drama.
He barely had time to settle into the familiar chaos of the hallways before a familiar voice cut through the noise.
"Raiven!" His best friend, Zeph, jogged up to him, grinning. "Happy birthday, man. Big day, huh? Ready to unlock your inner beast or whatever?"
Raiven groaned. "Not you too."
Zeph chuckled. "Hey, just trying to lighten the mood. But seriously, you seem... off."
Raiven hesitated, then sighed. "I don't know if I want this. Everyone acts like it's this great thing, but what if I don't want to be like them?"
Zeph shrugged. "Then don't be. Just because you inherit something doesn't mean you have to follow the same path. Find your own way, man."
Raiven gave him a small, grateful smile. "Yeah... maybe."
**********************************
By the time the final bell rang, Raiven felt like he was suffocating under the pressure. The top floor of their skyscraper home was transformed into an arena for one purpose: the ritual.
The Grand Witch stepped forward, her presence overwhelming. Despite her age—around fifty—she still radiated youth, her golden hair glinting under the dim light. A black cloak draped over her, covering her head but revealing part of her face. Two witches stood at her sides, their eyes sharp and unreadable, while behind her, more witches gathered, forming a semi-circle. Among them was a young witch, one whose importance in Raiven's future remained unknown.
Ancient words slipped from the Grand Witch's lips, filling the air with thick, buzzing energy. Then barriers shimmered, trapping them inside.
Then the fight just begun.
''Fight! '', The Grand Witch commanded
Nyra moved first, her speed blinding. Raiven barely had time to react before instinct took over. He moved—faster than he ever had before. Faster than he should have been able to.
Then something inside him snapped.
A pulse of energy rippled from him, barely visible but enough to make the air tremble. The watching Zyres gasped, some shifting uncomfortably as his presence surged outward, overwhelming. It was raw, untamed, unlike anything the ritual had seen before. A force that wasn't supposed to belong to a mere initiate.
Nyra stumbled, eyes wide. But then—there it was again. A faint echo of his power rippling through her, almost imperceptible.
The Grand Witch hesitated, her chanting faltering. Raiven could feel it now—something deeper awakening within him, something that refused to be controlled.
For the first time, the Grand Witch looked uncertain.
And for the first time, Raiven wasn't sure if he wanted to control it.