The Nameless One

Darkness.

It was not the kind of darkness that came with night, nor the temporary blackness of closed eyes. This was deeper. Hollow. The kind of void where even memories struggled to exist.

A name.

He reached for it. He should have one, shouldn't he? A word that defined him, something others would call him by. But there was nothing. Just the cold embrace of the unknown.

Then came the pain.

It struck like a whip lashing across his mind—flashes of something he couldn't grasp. A burning city. A throne crumbling to dust. A woman's voice, distant and aching, calling out… for him?

A sharp gasp escaped his lips as his body jerked awake. He felt solid ground beneath him, rough and uneven. His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest rising and falling as if he had been drowning.

The sky above was gray, clouds swirling like restless spirits. The air smelled of damp earth and the faint metallic tang of rain.

Where… am I?

He tried to stand, but his limbs felt like they belonged to someone else. Weak. Shaking. Bare feet scraped against dirt as he took an unsteady step forward. He was dressed in nothing but a tattered cloak, the fabric clinging to his skin as if it, too, had forgotten who he was.

Then, voices.

"Hey, look at this one."

A group of figures stood nearby, silhouetted against the gray sky. Young, maybe his age—or younger. Their clothes were well-fitted, woven with sigils of status and wealth.

Nobles.

He could tell by the way they carried themselves, the way their eyes flickered with the casual cruelty of those who had never known weakness.

One of them stepped forward, a boy with sharp features and golden embroidery on his coat.

"You look lost, beggar." His voice dripped with amusement. "Or are you just stupid?"

The others laughed.

The nameless boy opened his mouth, but no words came.

"Gods, he's pathetic," another one sneered. "You sure this is the one they let in?"

Let in?

Something cold settled in his gut. There was a reason he was here, wasn't there? But the answer slipped through his fingers like water.

The golden-clad noble tilted his head. "Wait. What's your name?"

A simple question. A basic truth.

He tried to answer. His lips parted.

Silence.

The laughter grew.

"He doesn't even know his own name!" One of them nearly doubled over in amusement. "Did they really accept an idiot into Aetheris Academy?"

Aetheris Academy.

The words struck something deep in him, something just out of reach. He had heard that name before. He knew it mattered.

But before he could grasp why, a sharp shove sent him stumbling backward. He barely caught himself before falling into the mud.

The golden noble sneered down at him. "Listen well, beggar. This academy isn't for the weak. If you don't even know who you are, you should just quit now."

A pause. Then, a smirk.

"Unless you want me to carve a name into you?"

Something flared in the nameless boy's chest. Not anger. Not fear. Something deeper. A feeling like an ember buried beneath ash, waiting to reignite.

His hands curled into fists.

A name…

He had one. He knew he did.

He just had to remember it.

And when he did—

They would all regret ever looking down on him.