The sky was never meant to be silent.
On the Day the Stars Shut Their Eyes, Haruki Ren was born.
The villagers watched in awe, their mouths gaping as the first signs of the celestial event unfolded. It wasn't a storm, nor was it a natural eclipse. The heavens themselves seemed to be holding their breath. The world was holding its breath. A moment in time that had never happened before—and would never happen again.
The stars flickered once, twice, then vanished. The moon lost its glow. The sun dimmed as though it had grown weary of its role. And for a few minutes, the earth was shrouded in a thick, unnatural darkness.
It was on this strange day that Haruki Ren cried his first breath. His body—pale, weak, and trembling—was not the only anomaly. His first cry echoed in the silent void, as if the sound itself was the only thing alive in the world. The villagers, already frightened by the celestial event, feared him. The elders, upon seeing the child, whispered of curses, omens, and something far worse.
The child had no name. Not a single star to claim him. The records of his birth, if they existed, were lost—erased by the heavens themselves.
Ren grew up knowing that he was different. While others around him cultivated and sharpened their spiritual essence from the moment they could walk, Ren's body refused to respond. No chi, no aura. No Name.
Every day, he saw his peers gather at the sects to receive training and blessings. They'd ascend to higher levels, their Names carved into the heavens like trophies. They were the children of prophecy. They were the chosen ones. And Ren? He was nothing.
His mother, a kind yet broken woman, often whispered to him in the quiet of the night, "Ren, you are special. Just… different. That's all."
But even she could not stop the stares. The whispers.
He was the boy born under a cursed sky.
The Naming Ceremony was supposed to be a joyous occasion. For every child, at the age of twelve, was required to speak their Name aloud as a rite of passage. The world would then recognize them, and they would be granted a path in life, a power unique to their soul.
Ren had no Name to speak.
Standing in front of the sacred altar, surrounded by the elders and other children, Ren felt the weight of the entire universe pressing against his chest. They all waited for him to say something. Anything. A sound, a word, a Name.
But nothing came.
The air grew heavier, suffocating. Even the stars, which had returned to their places in the sky, seemed to flicker nervously.
Ren's mouth moved, but no sound escaped. He opened his eyes, staring at the altar, trying to force words into existence, but it was as if his very soul was absent.
"Say it," an elder urged, his voice cracking. "You must speak your Name. Or—"
But Ren couldn't. He was empty. The sky had taken his Name, and he was left with nothing.
The sky went blind.
Suddenly, the ground beneath him shook. The altar trembled, cracks forming in its once-perfect stone. A low hum filled the air, as if something deep within the earth was awakening. The villagers gasped, the elders recoiling in fear.
Ren stepped back, feeling an unfamiliar chill run through his body.
A energy—no, not energy—a force unlike anything he had ever felt—ripped through the air, sweeping him off his feet and throwing him onto the cold stone floor. His head hit the ground with a sickening thud, and darkness consumed him.
For a moment, the world was quiet again.
Then, something cracked. Something ancient. Something forgotten.
A faint, distant whisper.
"Make it yours."
To be continued...