ice_penguin

In a world without day, where the sun is dead and monsters roam the blackened wilds, survival hinges on a single, brutal truth: if you do not bond your soul to an effigy, you will die.

Sixteen years ago, Silas was torn from his old world and thrust into this ruinous city of a thousand starving souls, believing—naively—that transmigration had chosen him for greatness. But when his talent test brands him pathless and his mind collapses into madness, that hope dies. Now deemed useless by the clergy and society, Silas is left clinging to two things: a cursed second chance and the company of his two friends—Cassian, a rare Light-path prodigy, and Velira, a water-path orphan with more resolve than strength.

When Silas undertakes the dangerous soul-refinement ritual, his effigy twists into something unnatural—part effigy, part monster

What begins as a fight for survival becomes a descent into a deeper mystery: one that ties Silas’s unstable soul to forbidden relics sealed beneath the cathedral, hybrid monsters stalking the outer darkness

With every refinement, every soul-splitting ritual, the cost grows heavier. And in a city where the clergy would sooner let you die than help you rise, Silas must decide:

Will he follow the broken paths laid before him…
Or carve a new one, even if it damns him?

Chronicles of the Untalented

The road curled like a scar through dead fields, wind carrying with it the bitter smell of ash and rust. Four figures trudged along, lanterns in hand, their shadows long against the dark soil. It was a journey that Silas had not exactly volunteered for—but he owed a debt. To Velira. To his mother. To the half-broken effigy he had recently repaired.

Keal led the way, relaxed but alert. The fire-path Learner had the quiet confidence of someone who'd just advanced, still tasting the heat of victory. He carried no visible effigy, only a pair of scorched-red gloves bound tight around his hands.

Behind him walked Nessa and Len, two Novice-ranked mages who were surprisingly cheerful for being sent to the outskirts. Their effigies followed close—humanoid, like tradition demanded. Nessa's was graceful and thin, with crystal-like fingers. Len's looked sturdy and box-jawed, like a clunky automaton stuffed into a tunic.

Silas brought up the rear, watching them all, quiet.

"Hey," he said finally, voice breaking through the wind, "Where's your effigy?"

Keal grinned over his shoulder. "I'm wearing it."

Keal held up his fists, letting a tiny ember crackle between his knuckles. "Learner-rank effigies can take different forms. I prefer mine close. Punching distance."

Len let out a low whistle. "That's so cool…"

Nessa nodded. "Stylish and terrifying."

Silas gave a slow, impressed nod. "You chose boxing gloves?"

"I fight with my fists. Why carry weight I don't need?" Keal said, turning back toward the road. "We've got a lot of ground to cover. The mining veins are a day's hike west—deep in the ravines. Church needs raw ore for forging and refinement. If we're lucky, we'll get in and out before anything finds us."

"The usual optimism," Silas muttered.

Len chuckled. "Don't worry, Silas. If something jumps us, I'll throw Nessa at it and run."

"You'll what?" Nessa said, elbowing him.

They all laughed, and for a moment the tension of marching through wasteland eased.

By nightfall, the world had grown quiet.

They stopped in a shallow depression sheltered by crumbling stone. Old ruins—more bones of a dead age. Keal stoked a fire, and the warmth was welcome, even if fleeting.

Silas sat with his knees pulled to his chest, watching the flames. The glow danced over the worn gloves on Keal's hands, the smooth joints of Nessa's effigy, the awkward posture of Len's.

"So…" Len said, poking a stick into the fire. "What do you think we'll run into? Bugs? Beasts? Or cursed miners?"

"Yeah, the old stories—souls trapped in the lower tunnels, digging with bones and blood."

Keal rolled his eyes. "We'll be lucky if it's just rock lice. Don't borrow fear. The mines are dangerous, but not suicidal. Not unless you go too deep."

His eyes were on the horizon, where stars hung distant and cold. He thought of the debts still unpaid. Of the fire-path Learner sitting across from him. Of the unstable magic flickering in his own effigy.

Tomorrow they'd reach the mining site.

And something in his bones told him—

Nothing ever stayed quiet for long.

Iron in the Earth