The first rays of sunlight stretched across the village of Helon, casting a soft glow over the rooftops, illuminating the morning mist that hung like a veil in the air. The world was waking up, one soft whisper of wind at a time. Birds sang their early morning songs, and the smell of fresh bread wafted through the village streets. But for Kain, today felt like any other day.
Kain stirred in his bed, eyes squinting against the light streaming through the cracks in the wooden shutters. His disheveled brown hair fell across his face as he rubbed his eyes, a groggy sigh escaping his lips. His room was simple, with only the barest of furniture and a small window that revealed little more than the dust in the air. It was a humble existence, one that matched Kain's lack of interest in the world around him.
But today was different.
A voice from the other room echoed through the stillness of the house: "Kain! It's time. The awakening ceremony is today."
Kain's heart skipped a beat. The awakening ceremony. He had almost forgotten about it, and yet, it was a day that everyone in the village waited for. The day when children received their blessings—gifts from the gods that would shape their destiny.
Kain had always considered it a formality. After all, he wasn't special. Not in the way the other children were. The gods weren't interested in him. At least, that was what he believed.
He shook his head and slowly pushed himself out of bed, his thin frame a stark contrast to the muscular builds of many other boys in the village. He wasn't strong, he wasn't handsome, and he certainly wasn't destined for greatness. He could barely muster the energy to care about his appearance, but his mother, always hopeful, had insisted he prepare himself.
Kain dressed quickly, pulling on his plain tunic and pants. Nothing extravagant—just enough to make him presentable for the ceremony.
His mother called to him again, this time with a touch of urgency in her voice. "Kain, hurry, we don't want to be late!"
Kain sighed and trudged to the kitchen. His mother stood there, her face warm and full of concern. A bowl of stew sat on the table, the steam rising from it in gentle spirals. "You need to eat, dear," she said softly, her hands trembling slightly as she handed him the bowl. "It's an important day for you."
He took the bowl without saying much, not because he didn't appreciate her kindness, but because the words always felt hollow. She had hope for him, but he had long given up on expecting anything extraordinary. The ceremony would pass, and he would be like everyone else, receiving a small blessing, maybe an insignificant one, and going on with life.
As he ate, his thoughts wandered. The Kingdom of Helon was a land full of stories—legends of gods and heroes, creatures that roamed the land, and powers that could shape the very world. But all of that felt like a far-off dream, something distant, unreal. Kain had heard the stories about gods who abandoned their people and the chaos that followed, and he couldn't help but wonder if those gods were still watching, or if they had long since turned their backs on the world.
His mother, as though sensing his discontent, spoke again, her voice softer now. "Do you ever think about what your blessing will be, Kain?"
Kain set the bowl down, glancing at her with a tired smile. "I don't think it will matter," he replied. "I'm not... special."
"Don't say that," his mother chided gently, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You're my son. You'll be great, I know it."
He couldn't bring himself to return her smile. She believed in him. He couldn't deny that, but he couldn't believe in himself—not in the way she did. There was nothing great about him. Nothing to hope for.
After a long moment of silence, Kain stood. "I'll go now. Don't worry."
His mother watched him with a mixture of hope and concern, but Kain had already turned and was walking out the door, the weight of the ceremony hanging over him.
The village square was already filling up with people, families gathered around, speaking in hushed voices. The air buzzed with excitement, the energy palpable. The children stood apart, their faces full of nervous anticipation as the village elder prepared for the ceremony.
Kain lingered on the outskirts, just watching. The others were chatting and laughing, but he remained silent. He wasn't one to socialize, not when he felt like an outsider in his own life.
As the ceremony began, Kain's mind wandered again. This wasn't his moment. He could feel it in his bones. The gods wouldn't choose him. Why would they? He was just a boy from a small village with no real talents, no special purpose.
But then something shifted.
A strange, almost unnoticeable hum filled the air, as if the world itself was vibrating. It wasn't the usual sound of the ceremony—the chanting of blessings or the calls of the elder. This was different. It was a low, insistent pulse, a presence that seemed to seep into every corner of his being.
Kain froze, his heart pounding in his chest.
And then, a voice whispered—soft, but undeniable.
"Kain."
The world around him seemed to slow. His breath caught in his throat, and for the first time in his life, he felt something—something otherworldly, something powerful—stir within him.
The voice was unmistakable, clear in his mind.
"You can call me Inventor."