In a world where every human inherited the powers of their ancestors, three children stood apart. They were orphans, and unlike everyone else, they had no powers at all.
On a stormy night, when thunder roared and rain lashed against the earth, a small box arrived at the orphanage. Inside, three fragile babies cried out, their screams barely audible over the storm. Surya, the kind caretaker of the orphanage, heard them and hurried outside. With gentle hands, he lifted the trembling infants from the box, wrapping them in his warm cloak.
Surya vowed to care for these powerless children, though the world around them seemed cruel.
As the orphans grew, so did the laughter — but not the kind that brings joy. The other children, gifted with abilities inherited from their bloodlines, mocked and shunned them. They called them weak, useless, and less than human. Every day, the three endured the sting of those cruel words, the sharpness of exclusion, and the cold silence of being different.
Yet, beneath the weight of scorn, the three shared something deeper — a bond forged not by power, but by heart. And though they lacked the gifts that flowed in others' veins, they carried within themselves a quiet strength no one could see.
Origin — Chapter 1: Shadows of the Storm
The night was angry.
Rain pelted the rooftops of the orphanage like a thousand tiny fists, and thunder cracked through the air as though the sky itself was splitting open. Lightning flickered beyond the horizon, briefly casting the crumbling building in a cold, ghostly light. Wind howled through the narrow corridors, whispering through the broken glass of forgotten windows.
Inside, three figures stood in silence.
Arjun, tall and broad-shouldered, stared at the dusty third door at the end of the hallway. His long hair was damp, sticking to his face, but his eyes burned with something deeper—something old.
Behind him, Nakal leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "You sure about this?" he asked, voice low. His eyes, sharp and suspicious, flicked toward the locked door. "That man told us never to open it."
Agastya stepped forward, his presence calm, almost monk-like despite the tension. "He didn't forbid it, Nakal. He said…" He paused, remembering the old caretaker's final words, spoken with failing breath:
"After I'm gone… find the third door."
"He wanted us to know something," Arjun said firmly. "And I think… now's the time."
The three had lived their whole lives within these walls—orphans, forgotten by the world, raised by a single man who had given them everything. And now, he was gone. His room stood empty, his presence a fading echo.
With a deep breath, Arjun moved toward the third door. It groaned slightly under his touch. "It's locked."
Agastya's eyes lit up. "Wait. When I was with him earlier… I saw something."
Moments later, they entered the caretaker's old room. The scent of incense and old paper lingered. On the desk, beneath a framed photograph of the three boys, there is a rusted key… and a letter, yellowed with age.
Nakal picked it up, hesitating before reading aloud.
> "To my boys—Arjun, Nakal, and Agastya. If you are reading this, then I am no longer with you. I never told you the truth about where you come from, because it was not yet time. But the blood that flows through your veins is not ordinary. It is ancient, powerful—and hunted.Behind the third door lies your path. Take it only when you are ready. The journey will change you. But it will also reveal who you truly are.Becarful kids,I love you."
The letter trembled in Nakal's hands. Silence fell again, heavier this time. The truth tasted like iron and lightning and the letter slowly filling with the three friends tears like rain drizzles.
Back at the third door, Arjun slid the key into the lock. It clicked.
Inside was a small, dim room. The walls were lined with shelves, old scrolls and objects hidden beneath cloth. But in the center, resting within a wooden box on a pedestal, was a folded parchment map. Etched into it in faded ink was a name:
Agenda.
Arjun lifted the map carefully, eyes wide. "This… this is where we're from?"
"No," Agastya said quietly. "This is where we're going."
They didn't know what waited beyond the edge of the map. They didn't know the trials, the wars, the betrayals. But as thunder roared once more and the storm howled around the orphanage, one thing was certain.
The journey had begun...