Chapter 3: The Falling Embers
"No... Mom, please! Not you too!" Ren's voice cracked, his back pressed against the peeling wallpaper of the hallway.
The creature that was once his mother let out a sharp, bird-like shriek. She lunged, her blackened claws raking through the air where Ren's head had been a second ago. Ren dove to the side, his heart thundering. He couldn't fight her. He couldn't bring himself to strike the woman who had sacrificed everything for them.
As she turned for another strike, Ren made a split-second decision. He bolted toward the living room, scooped Hana's limp body into his arms, and ran for the back window.
CRASH.
The glass shattered as Ren leaped through, landing hard on the damp grass outside. He didn't stop to look back. With Hana draped over his shoulder, he sprinted toward the looming silhouette of the mountain behind their house.
He glanced back at the window. His mother stood there, her red eyes glowing in the dark, but she didn't jump. It was as if an invisible tether held her to the house.
Ren climbed higher, his lungs burning. When he finally reached a rocky outcrop, he turned around to look at the valley below. His breath hitched.
The village was a sea of orange flames. Screams echoed through the night air, muffled by the distance. Figures were running through the streets—some screaming for help, others chasing them with inhuman speed.
"The whole village..." Ren whispered, his eyes stinging from the smoke and tears. "Everyone is turning."
He looked down at Hana. The purple veins on her leg were pulsing. "I have to stop this. I won't let you become one of them, Hana. I promise."
As he leaned his head against the cold stone of the mountain, his mind drifted back to a time when the world felt safe.
Flashback: 14 Years Ago
A three-year-old Ren sat cross-legged on a modest bed, staring up at his mother with wide, curious eyes. The room was small but filled with warmth.
"Mom, who are the Elites?" Ren asked, tilting his head.
His mother smiled sadly, stroking his hair. "Listen closely, Ren. Our world is split into four tiers, like a ladder. At the very top, in Tier 1, are the Elites. That's where the King comes from. They have all the power, all the gold."
She sighed, her gaze flickering to the window. "Then there's Tier 2—the King's inner circle. Below them is Tier 3, the Workmen, who keep the engines of the world running. And then... there's us. Tier 4. The Forsaken."
"Why are we called that?"
"Because the world wants to forget we exist, beta. We are the poorest, the ones left behind. In our tier, 'Vaners'—people born with the Vane energy—are very rare. And when they are born, they are taken."
Ren's eyes widened. "Taken where?"
"To the Academies," she whispered. "They say the Academy gives Vaners a special potion to control the energy inside them. Without it, the power is like a wild fire—it consumes you. But what happens to a Forsaken child inside those walls... no one knows. The system doesn't care about us, Ren. That's why you must stay hidden. If you have the spark, keep it dark."
Present Day
Ren opened his eyes. The warmth of the memory was gone, replaced by the freezing mountain wind and the smell of burning flesh. He looked at his hands. He was a Vaner. He was Tier 4. And he was alone.