Prince_06

Amari Zanders. A kid who escaped slavery and, in a world, where humans have turned their imagination into uncos (power or magic). He doesn't have any. Not only does he have no unco, but he is lost in world full of wonders. Will he ever be raised from his burden of being alone? Or will it end of him being alone?

Ragnarök, Eternal Tragedy.

The trees bowed overhead like they were hiding something. Wind rushed through them not in gusts but in rhythms, like the forest itself was out of breath, too overwhelmed to whisper what it had seen.

Armor shifted with a serrated clatter around his chest. Dust clung to the folds of his cloak. Every boot behind him thundered in tandem—fifty men in total, the second echelon of the royal guard. They moved fast, efficient, not with fear but with a tightening sense of too little, too late.

"Spread across the north trench!" Kael called, voice slicing through the trees like a sword drawn mid-gallop. "Three-man pods. No more. Fan wide. Stay visible—but not loud. If they're here, we'll drive them to flank."

A lower-ranked officer caught up beside him. "Commander, confirmation—we saw heat plumes southward. Tower fires weren't natural."

Kael didn't look over. "They wouldn't be. They never are. Push a third pod that way."

What They Left Behind