A delight in hate

"the past cannot be changed but the future remains unwritten"

Kinless jolted upright in bed, his heart pounding as remnants of the strange encounter clung to his mind like a fading dream. But… it hadn't been a dream. He could feel it—something had changed, something immense and incomprehensible. Without thinking, he leaped out of bed, his feet hitting the cold wooden floor with a thud, and rushed to the mirror hanging crookedly on the wall.

His breath fogged the glass as he leaned in, searching his reflection for any sign of what had happened. But nothing seemed different. His black hair was still disheveled from sleep, his ocean-blue eyes still wide with uncertainty. No glowing aura, no strange features—just him.

"Nothing…" he muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. He stepped back from the mirror, running a hand through his hair. He'd expected something—anything—to mark the transformation he was sure had taken place. But there was nothing to see.

With a sigh, Kinless turned toward his small wardrobe, pulling out a clean shirt and trousers to replace his used ones. As he tugged his shirt over his head, something caught his eye—something etched into his skin. He froze, his breath hitching as he twisted to get a better look.

There, on the right side of his chest, was a mark. It was intricate and vivid, like it had been burned into his skin with painstaking precision. The image depicted a dragon coiled around a giant, their forms locked in an eternal struggle. The dragon's fierce eyes seemed to glimmer faintly, and the giant's outstretched hand radiated an almost imperceptible energy.

Kinless stared at it, his fingers hovering just above the surface of his skin. It didn't hurt, but it felt warm, as though alive. "What… what is this?" he whispered, his voice barely audible in the stillness of the room.

He had no idea what the mark meant, but something about it stirred a sense of awe and unease deep within him. Before he could ponder further, the sound of his mother's voice calling from downstairs jolted him out of his thoughts.

"Kinless! Breakfast is ready! Hurry up!"

Panic set in. The mark wasn't something he wanted to explain—not yet, not until he understood it himself. He quickly yanked his pshirt down, the fabric brushing against the mark as if it were a part of him now. Shoving the moment aside, he finished dressing and bolted for the stairs.

As he ran toward the kitchen, his mind was already racing. The mark, the encounter, the power he now held—it all felt like the beginning of something far bigger than he could comprehend. But for now, he'd keep it hidden.

________

"Slow down, or you'll choke," his mother warned, her tone firm but warm as she watched him devour his breakfast. Her long, silky white hair cascaded over her shoulders, a striking contrast to her deep brown skin. Her deep blue eyes, sharp yet caring, flicked to Kinless with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.

Kinless barely acknowledged her, slowing down just enough to avoid an actual scolding. He shoveled the last of his meal into his mouth, chewing hastily before standing up. Grabbing his plate, he walked to the sink and placed it down with a clatter.

"I'm done!" he called out, his voice muffled as he reached for his sweater. He tugged it over his head, adjusting it quickly to make sure the mark on his shoulder was well-hidden beneath the thick fabric.

"Maela's waiting outside!" his mother called out, crossing her arms as she leaned against the counter. There was a knowing look in her eyes, the kind only a mother could give.

"ok" Kinless replied, avoiding her gaze as he pulled the door open. "I'll be back later!"

"Don't hurt yourself," she called after him, her voice following him out the door like a gentle reminder.

Kinless waved over his shoulder without turning back, his mind already drifting to the mark beneath his sweater and the strange encounter that still felt more real than any dream he'd ever had.

____

As Kinless stepped outside, the crisp morning air greeted him, carrying the faint scent of dew and pine. He spotted Maela waiting near the fence, her golden hair catching the sunlight like strands of woven gold. When she saw him, she waved enthusiastically, her excitement evident in the way she bounced on her heels.

Kinless waved back, a small smile tugging at his lips, and jogged over to her.

"Ready for our expedition?" Maela asked, her golden eyes sparkling with anticipation.

"Sure," Kinless replied, his tone more casual, though he couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement at the prospect.

The two set off, their footsteps crunching against the gravel path as they chatted and planned. The journey to their destination stretched on—minutes, maybe even an hour—but Maela's endless energy made the time pass quickly. Her laughter rang out like bells as she pointed out birds in the trees or told exaggerated tales of her imagined exploits as an adventurer.

Eventually, they arrived at their goal: the towering castle that stood at the heart of the kingdom. The castle's massive stone walls loomed above them, its spires piercing the sky like jagged mountains. The grand structure seemed alive with activity, as a large crowd had gathered in front of it, buzzing with excitement and curiosity.

"What's going on?" Maela whispered, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial tone as she grabbed Kinless's arm and pulled him closer to the scene.

The crowd had surrounded a train—an elaborate mechanical marvel with sleek black carriages and glimmering brass accents. Three men stood at the center of the commotion, their commanding presence setting them apart from the crowd. They were clearly adventurers, their armor polished and their weapons resting confidently at their sides.

"Please, calm down!" one of the adventurers called out, his voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "We'll answer all your questions, but you must remain orderly!"

The crowd surged closer, their shouts blending into an indistinct roar of demands and questions.

Maela's grip on Kinless's arm tightened as her excitement gave way to curiosity. "Did your mother say it was ok to go?" she asked, her voice hushed but brimming with eagerness.

Kinless narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed on the adventurers. "Yeah," he replied, his voice low. "But something about this feels… off."

As they stood at the edge of the crowd, Kinless couldn't shake the feeling that the scene before them was more than it seemed. Something big was happening, and he had a strange sense that whatever it was, it would change their lives forever.

_____

As the duo climbed aboard the train, the hum of excitement around them filled the air. The sleek, brass-accented train seemed almost alive, its pistons hissing softly as steam curled into the crisp morning sky. Maela's father, King Nephi, stood on the platform, his imposing figure clad in royal finery that somehow still exuded warmth. He waved to them, his voice carrying above the commotion.

"Goodbye! Stay safe, and remember your training!" he called, his tone a mix of fatherly concern and regal authority.

Maela leaned out of the window, her golden hair catching the breeze as she waved back enthusiastically. "Don't worry Father!" she shouted, her voice bright with determination.

Kinless, however, remained more reserved. He couldn't shake the weight of uncertainty that clung to him like a shadow. As he settled into his seat, he glanced around the compartment, noting the polished wood paneling and velvet-upholstered benches. The train was more luxurious than anything he'd ever experienced, yet its opulence did little to ease the knot of nerves tightening in his chest.

He caught sight of a man in uniform, one of the expedition leaders, and decided to ask the question that had been gnawing at him. Standing up, he approached the man, who was adjusting his gloves as if preparing for a long journey.

"Excuse me, sir," Kinless began, his voice steady but curious, "how long will this expedition last?"

The man turned to him, his expression tired yet patient, as though he had answered this question countless times before. "Over three months," he replied, his voice low but firm. He sank into his chair, adjusting his coat as he closed his eyes, clearly intending to rest.

Kinless blinked, the weight of the response settling over him like a heavy cloak. Three months. The reality of the journey ahead hit him with full force. It wasn't just an adventure anymore—it was a commitment, a test of endurance and resilience.

He returned to his seat beside Maela, who was still buzzing with excitement, her golden eyes scanning the landscape as the train began to move.

"Three months, huh?" she said, leaning back with a grin. "Think of all the things we'll see and learn!"

Kinless forced a small smile but said nothing, his thoughts drifting to the mark hidden beneath his sweater. He glanced out the window as the train picked up speed, the familiar sights of home fading into the distance.

For better or worse, their journey had begun.

________

Later that night, as the rhythmic clatter of the train lulled the passengers into sleep, Kinless found himself drifting off. But this wasn't an ordinary slumber.

When he opened his eyes, the world around him was alien yet eerily familiar. The air shimmered with an ethereal glow, and the ground beneath him felt soft, as though it wasn't quite solid. The void-like expanse stretched endlessly in all directions, its silence oppressive.

Kinless's heart raced as he recognized the strange dimension from before. He turned slowly, his breath catching when his gaze landed on the figure before him. But something was different.

The once towering and shadowy presence was now a man, sitting casually on an ornate throne made of black stone, its surface veined with gold that pulsed faintly like a heartbeat. The man was striking in his simplicity—a tall, pale figure with tousled brown hair and soft auburn eyes that seemed warm yet piercing. He looked human, ordinary even, but the energy radiating from him was anything but.

The man leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he studied Kinless with an amused expression. "Hm… so you're the special one," he said, his voice smooth but laced with intrigue, as if he were inspecting a rare artifact.

Kinless took a cautious step forward, his fists clenched at his sides. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice stronger than he felt. "And why am I here again? And why did you call me special?"

The man tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Who am I?" he echoed, his tone almost teasing. "I am many things. A guide, a creator, a catalyst… Call me whatever you like." He gestured lazily to the space around them. "As for why you're here, well… you made a wish, didn't you?"

Kinless stiffened, the memory of his bold demand flashing through his mind. "Yes, I did. But why are you taking this form now?"

The man chuckled, the sound low and almost comforting. "You seemed rather terrified last time. I thought this form might be less… intimidating." He gestured to himself with a sweep of his hand. "Do you approve?"

Kinless didn't answer immediately, his mind racing to process everything. "You didn't answer my question. Why me? Why do you call me 'special'?"

The man's smile deepened, his auburn eyes gleaming. "You're special because you dared to ask for something no one else would. Unlimited potential. A dangerous thing, don't you think?"

Kinless's throat tightened, but he forced himself to speak. "What's so dangerous about wanting to be stronger?"

The man stood, his presence suddenly far more imposing despite his modest height. He took a step toward Kinless, the weight of his energy pressing down like a storm. "Because strength without understanding leads to ruin," he said, his voice carrying a warning. "And potential without limits is chaos."

Kinless swallowed hard, his fear bubbling to the surface. "Then why did you grant it?"

The man stopped a few paces away, his expression unreadable. "Because chaos, my dear boy, is how stars are born."

____

As the figure rose from his throne, a snide laugh escaped his lips, echoing across the strange, shimmering expanse. He moved with a deliberate grace, each step exuding an aura of authority that made the ground beneath him tremble faintly.

"Alright so who are you…. What's your name" kinless asked scarcely

"My name," he began, his voice sharp and resonant, "is Anakin. And I am here to test you."

Kinless's heart pounded as Anakin's words hung in the air, heavy with foreboding. Before Kinless could respond, Anakin extended his hand toward the void. With a smooth motion, he grasped at nothing—and yet, something materialized in his grip. A sword, sleek and dark as midnight, seemed to coalesce from the very fabric of the dimension. Its blade shimmered with a faint, otherworldly glow, pulsating like a heartbeat.

Anakin swung the sword experimentally, the air itself hissing in protest as the blade cut through it. "Tell me, Kinless," he said, his tone almost mocking, "how do you expect to reach your so-called unlimited potential if you can't even defend yourself?"

Kinless stumbled backward, his hands shooting up instinctively in a gesture of surrender. "I-I don't have a weapon!" he stammered, his voice cracking under the weight of panic.

Anakin raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "A weapon, you say? Did you think your potential would come gift-wrapped with instructions? If you want power, boy, you'll have to seize it for yourself."

With a flick of his wrist, Anakin swung the sword in a wide arc, the blade stopping inches from Kinless's face. The force of the swing alone sent a shockwave rippling through the air, knocking Kinless to the ground.

Kinless scrambled to his feet, his heart racing. "How am I supposed to fight you?!" he shouted, frustration bubbling over.

Anakin's laughter was cold and unyielding. "Figure it out," he replied, his tone as sharp as the blade he wielded. "This is your test, not mine. Show me that you're worth the power you've asked for—or fall here and prove your insignificance."

As Kinless's mind raced, a strange sensation stirred within him. It was faint at first, like a flicker of warmth in his chest, but it grew stronger with each passing second. He didn't understand it, but something told him this was his moment to act, to reach for the untapped potential he had wished for.

"Come now," Anakin taunted, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Show me what you're made of."

Kinless clenched his fists, feeling the mysterious energy within him begin to take shape. He didn't know how or why, but for the first time, he felt a spark of hope. The test had begun, and failure was not an option.