Morning arrived with little warmth.
A pale gray sky hung over Lament as Ragnar stirred beneath the broken wooden cart he called home. Rainwater dripped steadily from the canvas stretched above him, each drop striking the ground with a dull rhythm.
He blinked away the sleep in his eyes and reached into his coat.
Half a loaf of stale bread.
Still there.
"Guess today isn't starting too badly."
He tore off a small piece before wrapping the rest in cloth and slipping it back into his pocket. Food had to last. In Lament, tomorrow was never guaranteed.
The city was already awake.
Blacksmiths hammered glowing iron. Merchants argued over prices. Children darted through the marketplace while guards in polished armor patrolled the streets, their crimson capes flowing behind them.
Ragnar kept his head down.
After yesterday's encounter with Lord Thorne Grayvale, every noble looked dangerous.
Especially the ones smiling.
Near the eastern market, a crowd had gathered around a wooden platform.
Curiosity got the better of Ragnar.
He slipped between the adults until he reached the front.
A noble stood atop the stage wearing robes embroidered with silver thread. Behind him stood four knights.
The noble raised a crystal sphere into the air.
"Today marks another Blood Awakening."
Excited whispers spread through the crowd.
Children around Ragnar beamed with anticipation while their parents prayed under their breath.
The noble continued.
"Every citizen upon reaching sixteen years of age shall present themselves before the Crown's examiner."
One by one, teenagers stepped onto the stage.
Each placed a hand upon the crystal.
Nothing.
The crystal remained dull.
The examiner simply nodded.
"Common Blood."
Another child.
This time...
The crystal shimmered green.
The crowd erupted into applause.
"Emerald Blood!" someone shouted.
"He'll become a healer!"
A woman collapsed to her knees in tears of joy.
The examiner smiled.
"House Briarwood welcomes gifted blood."
A carriage waiting nearby opened its door.
The boy looked back only once before climbing inside.
His family cried as the carriage disappeared into the streets.
Not because they were sad.
Because their son would never know poverty again.
Ragnar watched silently.
So this was how the kingdom worked.
Power wasn't earned.
It was inherited.
Or discovered.
"Next."
The line grew shorter.
Soon...
Only Ragnar remained.
The examiner frowned.
"You."
Ragnar looked around.
"Me?"
"Name."
"...Ragnar."
"Family?"
"...None."
A few nobles chuckled.
"Another orphan."
"Waste of crystal."
"Move along."
The examiner sighed.
"Come here anyway."
Ragnar climbed the steps.
Every eye in the square settled on him.
He placed his hand upon the crystal.
Nothing happened.
The noble smirked.
"As expected."
Laughter spread through the crowd.
Ragnar slowly removed his hand.
Maybe this had been a mistake.
Then—
Crack.
A thin crimson line appeared inside the crystal.
The laughter stopped.
Another crack.
Then another.
The crystal began vibrating violently.
"What—"
BOOM!
The sphere exploded into thousands of glittering fragments.
A crimson shockwave burst outward.
People screamed.
The examiner was thrown backward off the platform.
Knights instinctively drew their swords.
Ragnar staggered several steps.
His heartbeat thundered inside his chest.
Something burned beneath his skin.
He looked down.
Tiny red streams of blood seeped from shallow cuts on his fingers...
...but instead of falling...
they floated.
The droplets hovered around him like tiny rubies.
One stretched.
Another sharpened.
Before Ragnar could react...
A blood-red dagger formed in his trembling hand.
Silence.
Absolute silence.
One knight whispered...
"Impossible..."
Another slowly lowered his sword.
"Blood Manifestation..."
"No..."
The examiner climbed back onto the platform, his face pale.
"It can't be..."
His voice shook.
"There hasn't been a Blood Forger in nearly four hundred years."
The marketplace erupted into chaos.
"Run!"
"It's cursed!"
"The Demon Blood has returned!"
Merchants abandoned their stalls.
Parents grabbed their children.
Within seconds the square emptied.
Only Ragnar remained...
Still staring at the crimson blade in his hand.
Far away...
Inside the highest tower overlooking Lament...
Lord Thorne Grayvale stood beside a window.
His tea had gone cold.
He had felt it.
A pulse.
Ancient.
Powerful.
Dangerous.
A knight burst into the room, kneeling immediately.
"My lord."
Thorne didn't turn.
"The reports."
"The Awakening Crystal was destroyed."
"I know."
"There was... a survivor."
Now Thorne smiled.
"The orphan?"
"Yes, my lord."
"And?"
The knight hesitated.
"He forged a weapon... from his own blood."
For the first time in years...
Lord Thorne laughed.
A slow.
Quiet.
Satisfied laugh.
"So..."
"The prophecy has finally begun."
He looked toward the distant marketplace where frightened citizens still fled in panic.
"Find the boy."
The knight bowed.
"Alive, my lord?"
Thorne's smile widened.
"...For now."