Caelan Veyne's POV
A new year came — but nothing changed.
I was still me: Caelan Veyne, rejected by the gods. Silver-haired. Purple-eyed. Half-elf. An unchosen. A failure.
Finn and Lyra were always there, though, their smiles never wavering, their friendship — their care — never faltering.
I believed them. With everything I had left.
They had become my family in a world that had long since abandoned me. Their loyalty was the one thing that kept me moving forward, even when everything else seemed to fall apart.
But I was wrong.
---
It happened on a cold, murky evening.
We were tasked with a simple job: transporting goods for a merchant in a nearby village. A job that would earn us enough coin to survive the winter.
Or so I thought.
The journey was long and quiet. The road was slick with frost and rain, the cold biting deep into our bones as we trudged through the mud. The village was a small one, nestled between jagged mountains and dense forests. The sort of place where rumors spread like wildfire, and the people didn't take kindly to strangers.
Finn had a glint in his eyes — the kind he got when something was off. But he never said a word about it. Neither did Lyra.
When we arrived, we were met by a group of well-dressed men. Tall, broad-shouldered, their eyes sharp and calculating. The leader, a man with dark eyes and a scar running down his cheek, smiled a smile that never reached his eyes.
"Well, well, well," he said, his voice low and menacing. "The famous Caelan Veyne, the unchosen, still surviving, still breathing."
I tensed at the mention of my name. I hated the way it sounded when it was spoken by people like him.
The deal was simple: deliver the crates, receive payment, and leave. But as I helped them unload, something felt wrong. My instincts screamed at me, but I pushed the feeling down. I wasn't about to question anything — not in front of Finn and Lyra.
Then came the moment that shattered everything.
The crates were filled with high mana drugs — something illegal. Something dangerous. Something I never could have imagined.
I looked at Finn and Lyra, eyes wide with confusion. "What... what is this?"
Finn gave me a grin, the kind that felt colder than the air itself. "Don't worry, Caelan. You'll get paid."
I swallowed hard, my stomach churning. Something was wrong, but I couldn't place it. I turned to Lyra for an explanation, but she just stared at me, her eyes colder than usual.
I felt a sinking sensation in my chest.
Something was wrong. But I was too late.
---
The next thing I knew, everything spun out of control.
I was being framed.
The villagers — the very people I had helped — turned against me. They accused me of being part of a smuggling ring, a criminal. They spoke of my 'failure' as a joke, how someone like me, unmarked and unchosen, was clearly only good for dirty work. My heart slammed in my chest as they dragged me through the muddy streets, the cold biting at my skin.
I tried to explain. I tried to tell them the truth.
But no one would listen.
Finn and Lyra stood at the front of the crowd, their faces cold, emotionless. They told everyone they had captured me. The very people who had been my friends — who I had trusted with my very soul — were now the ones who betrayed me.
They had sold me out.
They had planned it all.
---
As I was tied to an X-shaped cross, I could feel my heart racing. My body ached, every bone screaming in protest as the villagers prepared for an execution that would shatter my world. The gods had turned their backs on me, but now the villagers were eager to finish the job. Seven people, chosen by the gods, were going to destroy me. They would each use their strongest spells, their divine power, to rip me apart — to end my life.
I was going to die.
Finn and Lyra stood to the side, their eyes never leaving me. They looked so... proud.
I wanted to scream. To shout. To beg them to stop. But the words were stuck in my throat.
A soft, familiar voice broke through the chaos.
"Stop! Please, stop!"
I turned my head, my vision blurry with tears, and saw her.
My mother.
Her eyes were wide with fear and desperation. She ran forward, her face pale, her hands outstretched, begging the villagers to spare me.
"Please," she sobbed, dropping to her knees. "He's my son! He's all I have left! Please, don't take him away from me!"
Her voice cracked, and I could see the desperation in her eyes. The villagers murmured, some of them stepping back, unsure of what to do.
But not the seven chosen.
One of them — a tall, graying man — raised his hand, signaling for the ritual to proceed. The crowd grew silent.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. All I could do was stare at my mother as she pleaded for my life.
But then something… changed.
A shadow moved in the corner of my vision. A figure cloaked in black, their face hidden beneath a hood. The crowd didn't see them — they were too busy watching the execution — but I saw.
My heart skipped a beat as I realized the figure was aiming something at my mother.
A spell.
No — not a spell.
A dart.
Before anyone could react, the dart struck my mother in the chest, and she fell.
"NO!" I screamed, my voice raw and wild. "MOTHER!"
Her body hit the ground with a sickening thud.
The crowd gasped, but I couldn't hear them. All I could hear was the blood pounding in my ears, the deafening silence that followed the death of the one person who had ever truly loved me.
"No..."
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. My mind exploded with rage, with grief, with a deep, terrible loss.
And then it happened.
A wave of power surged through me, something raw, something ancient, something uncontrollable.
I felt my body convulsing as my magic — my hidden power — erupted from within.
I felt it tear through me like wildfire. The world seemed to bend and twist around me, as if I were part of something much larger, much older, than I could comprehend.
The villagers screamed. The seven chosen stepped back in terror as my magic flared, growing brighter, sharper, and more deadly.
I heard nothing but the roar of the power coursing through me. I saw nothing but the face of the figure who had killed my mother. And all I wanted was to destroy them.
Destroy everything.
In a flash, the village was in ruins.
The seven chosen died first — their spells turned back on them, their bodies consumed by my power. The villagers who had once condemned me, who had once mocked me, were burned to ash before they could even scream.
Finn and Lyra were standing there, watching, their eyes wide with shock. Fear. Betrayal.
But it didn't matter.
None of it mattered anymore.
I was alone.
And my mother was dead.
---
As the last remnants of the village crumbled beneath my power, I collapsed, my body giving way to exhaustion. My breathing was ragged, my heart broken, but the power inside me still roared, still demanded release.
Then — as the last whispers of my magic died out — I heard something.
A voice.
"Caelan…"
I turned, and there, standing amidst the wreckage, was a dark tall figure.