Chapter 6: Ashes of Yesterday

Caelan Veyne's POV

I stood among the ashes.

The cold wind howled through the ruined village, stirring the blackened remains of what used to be homes, people — lives. My hands trembled at my sides, still crackling with lingering energy, faint embers running up my veins like fire refusing to die.

The taste of blood and smoke clung to my tongue. My silver hair was matted with soot and dirt. My body ached. My mind spun.

And yet, the grief cut through it all like a blade.

I dropped to my knees where she had fallen — where my mother had died — the earth stained with blood that even the rain could not wash away.

I reached for her, but there was nothing left. Only torn fabric, a faint trace of warmth that was already fading, like the last remnants of a dream slipping through my fingers.

"Mother…" My voice cracked, barely a whisper.

The figure in black that had fired the killing spell was gone, vanished into the storm like a shadow. Coward.

And I — Caelan Veyne — was alone.

I don't know how long I stayed there, kneeling in the ruin, shaking, broken.

I only moved when I heard it: footsteps crunching over shattered wood and stone.

A man stood before me.

Or something that looked like a man.

Tall, cloaked in a long robe of midnight black that seemed to bleed into the shadows themselves. His presence was wrong, like he didn't belong to the world around him. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but two silver eyes burned in the darkness beneath it — the same color as my own hair.

For a long time, he simply watched me. Silent. Patient.

And then he spoke, his voice like the low rumble of a distant storm:

"You have been abandoned by gods who never deserved you."

His words pierced through the numbness. I lifted my head, staring at him, hatred and grief warring inside me.

"Who are you?" I rasped.

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering the question.

"A memory. A whisper of what was lost. And the one who will set you free."

I didn't understand. I didn't care. I wanted him gone. I wanted all of this gone.

I staggered to my feet, my legs weak but my rage strong.

"Stay away from me," I hissed.

But he only smiled, a cold, knowing smile that made the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

"You have already begun, Caelan Veyne. You carry the spark within you — the gift the gods feared."

I shook my head, backing away.

"You're wrong. I don't have anything!" I shouted. "I couldn't even get a mark! I'm nothing!"

"You are more than marks," he said, stepping closer. "You are a storm waiting to awaken. You are the heir to something greater than the petty gods of this world."

The air thickened around us, the world holding its breath. My heart pounded against my ribs, a trapped bird desperate to escape.

"Leave me alone," I said again, but it came out weaker this time, a hollow whisper.

The man regarded me one last time. His silver eyes burned into me, like he was seeing everything I was — everything I could become.

"When the time comes," he said, his voice softer now, almost sorrowful, "you will remember this moment."

He turned without another word, disappearing into the fog and smoke as silently as he had come.

And I was left standing there, alone once again.

I buried my mother that night.

No prayers. No rites. No weeping congregation.

Just me, digging a shallow grave with my bare hands until my fingers bled.

I wrapped her broken body in her cloak — the same one she had worn when she had stood between me and death — and laid her in the earth beneath the old oak tree outside the ruins of our home.

The tree had survived the fire somehow, its gnarled branches stretching toward the stormy sky.

I carved her name into the bark with a shard of broken metal.

Alina Veyne.

My mother.

The only person who had ever truly loved me.

When I finished, I collapsed against the roots, the cold seeping into my bones. I wanted to cry, but the tears wouldn't come. They were trapped somewhere deep inside me, behind the walls I had built to survive.

The only thing I could do was whisper:

"I'm sorry."

I stayed there until dawn.

By morning, the village elders — what few remained — had come crawling back.

Cowards.

They kept their distance, watching me with wide, terrified eyes. They thought I was a monster now.

Maybe they were right.

The head elder, a withered woman with a bent back and cruel eyes, approached, clutching a staff carved with the symbols of the Seven Gods.

She bowed low, her voice trembling:

"C-Caelan Veyne… we have decided. You must leave. You can no longer stay here."

I said nothing.

What was there to say? They had already taken everything from me. They had watched my mother die without lifting a finger.

The elder cleared her throat, uncomfortable under my silent stare.

"We… we will grant you safe passage beyond the borderlands. But if you ever return… you will be executed."

I looked past her at the other villagers. At their fear. Their disgust.

At the ones who had once shared bread with my mother. At the ones who had once smiled at me in the streets.

Now they looked at me like I was a beast that needed to be put down.

Slowly, I nodded.

I didn't want anything more from them.

Not pity. Not forgiveness.

Nothing.

I left that same day.

No possessions. No supplies.

Just the clothes on my back, a silver pendant my mother had once given me — the only thing I had left of her — and a burning hole inside my heart.

As I passed the gates of the ruined village, I didn't look back.

There was nothing left for me there.

Only ashes.

And so began my exile.

Alone.

Unmarked.

Broken.

But deep within me, something stirred.

A power I didn't understand. A rage I couldn't contain. A storm that was growing stronger with each passing day.

They had tried to kill me.

They had taken everything from me.

And someday…

Someday, they would regret it.