Awakening

I woke to tools clanging, voices carrying through the open window, and carts creaking down the path. I just lay there, listening. Everything seemed sharper, louder, and clearer. Even the faint rustle of leaves outside sounded right next to me.

My chest felt tight and uneasy, but I pushed it aside. Maybe it was just one of those mornings.

Sitting up, I stretched and felt an odd lightness in my body, like I wasn’t entirely grounded. I shook my head, trying to brush off the thought, and pulled on a shirt.

When I reached the forge, the heat hit me like it always did—a thick wave of smoke and metal that clung to my skin. Satoshi was already at work, arms crossed as he sorted through tools. He didn’t even look up.

“You’re late,” he said.

“Sorry.” I grabbed a hammer and moved to the anvil. I liked the rhythm of working steel, which forced me to focus. If something was bothering me, the forge usually burned it away.

As I lifted the hammer and struck, the steel ingot gleamed on the anvil. Once, twice. The blows rang out steady and clear, but on the third strike, my arm jerked. The hammer felt strange in my hand, impossibly heavy one moment and feather-light the next.

When the hammer hit, the steel shattered.

I froze. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Ever.

Fragments scattered across the workbench and clattered to the floor. In one piece, I saw my reflection, distorted but clear enough. For a split second, my eyes flickered… blue.

“Renjiro?” Satoshi’s voice sliced through the fog in my head, startling me.

I blinked rapidly, realizing my hand was still clutching the shards of broken metal. “Yeah,” I croaked, clearing my throat. “Dropped something.”

Satoshi raised an eyebrow, but his hammer didn’t pause mid-swing. “You alright?” 

“Fine.” I swept the shards aside into a pile, though my hands wouldn’t stop trembling. “Just tired.”

The rhythmic clang of his hammer filled the silence, and I thought the conversation was over. But then he set his hammer down, turning to me with that measured look he always gave when he had something important to say.

“You’ve been focused lately,” he said. “More than I’ve seen in years. Taking the craft seriously.”

I hesitated, my throat tightening. “Yeah,” I managed. My voice wavered, thin and unsteady. I couldn’t help it. The words felt distant like they belonged to someone else. After the cave… after whatever had happened there, nothing felt real. My mind couldn’t pin anything down except fragments. A blur of shadows. A flash of crystal. Then Kaelan’s face, pale shouting my name. Everything else was a blank.

“Hey.” Satoshi’s voice softened. “ You’ve come a long way. A month ago, you couldn’t finish a blade without my help. Now? You’ve got people waiting in line for your work.”

I let out a shaky laugh, trying to hide the unease twisting in my gut. “Guess I’ve had a good teacher.”

Satoshi smirked faintly. “Maybe.” He folded his arms, leaning against the anvil. “But it’s not just me. You’re the one putting in the work. I’m proud of you, Renjiro.”

His words hit me harder than I expected. I felt steady—grounded—but then the restlessness came rushing back. I set the broom down, staring at the floor.

“Do you think... Do you think my parents would be proud?”

The air seemed to shift. Satoshi straightened, his smirk fading into something more serious. His hands gripped the edge of the anvil, his knuckles whitening. “Your parents…” he said slowly, as if weighing each word.

“They would be proud of the man you’re becoming. I know that much.”

“Yeah?” I asked quietly. “You really think so?”

Satoshi nodded, but something was distant in his eyes as if he were looking past me. “As I’ve told you before,” he said carefully, “you came to me from the orphanage—the same one as Kaelan. You didn’t come with much—just that name and a stubborn streak a mile wide. I took you in because I saw something in you, Renjiro. Something strong. And you’ve done nothing but prove me right since.”

I hesitated. “But… what about them? My real parents. Do you think they’re still out there? Somewhere?”

Satoshi’s expression tightened, his jaw working silently for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said at last. “The outside world isn’t kind. You know that as well as I do. But if they are… they’d be proud too. Proud of the man you’re becoming.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and for once, I couldn’t think of anything to say. The questions in my head—about the cave, the crystal, my parents—swirled together into a storm I couldn’t push away. 

“I need some air,” I mumbled, stepping away from the workbench. Satoshi didn’t try to stop me. He just nodded, picking up his hammer again.

As I slipped outside, the cooler air hit my face like a splash of water. I leaned against the forge wall, staring at the sky. The restlessness was still there, but now it carried a weight I didn’t know how to shake.

They’d be proud. Satoshi’s words echoed in my mind. But all I could think was, would they?

And what if I never found out?

Stepping outside, I leaned against the doorway, dragging in deep breaths. The tightness in my chest eased a little, but not enough.

That’s when I saw it.

An eagle perched on the fencepost across the way. It was larger than any I’d seen before, its feathers dark and sleek, its golden eyes locked onto mine.

For some reason, I couldn’t look away.

Slowly, I tilted my head, squinting at it. Then it tilted its head, too, copying me exactly.

“What…?” I muttered under my breath.

I tilted my head the other way. The eagle mirrored me again as if mocking me. A nervous laugh escaped before I could stop it.

And then, without warning, the bird let out a sharp cry and spread its wings, launching into the air. Then,and launched

Something pulled at me. I can’t explain it, but suddenly, I had to follow.

The pursuit appeared surreal as if I were not completely in command of my body. My legs propelled me forward with unprecedented speed, each stride remarkably buoyant, as though the ground scarcely made contact with my feet.

The eagle soared ahead, gliding effortlessly. I pushed harder, the air rushing past me as the world blurred. My breath came quick and sharp, but I didn’t stop.

When the bird landed on a boulder at the edge of the village, I staggered to a halt as my chest heaved.

It just stared at me as though waiting for something. Then it took off again, its cry echoing across the trees.

Something inside me snapped. I bent my knees, muscles coiling tight, and jumped.

I flew.

The wind rushed past, lifting my hair, and for one breathless second, I felt weightless. Then gravity slammed me back down. I hit the ground hard on the other side of the boulder, rolling until I stopped.

Pain flared through my shoulder, but I barely felt it. I stared up at the sky, gasping for air, my mind racing.

I gradually sat upright, my hands clutching the grass beneath me. The expansive field extended in all directions. My body experienced an unusual sensation—not one of weakness, but rather a profound sense of vitality. It felt as though every muscle and fiber had undergone a process of reconfiguration.

I pushed myself to my feet, swaying slightly as I took a deep breath. My legs felt… powerful like coiled springs waiting to be unleashed. The memory of the leap burned in my mind—the rush of air, the impossible height.

I glanced around, making sure no one was nearby, then crouched low. Just try it again, I thought. My heart pounded as I focused. I dug my feet into the ground, inhaling sharply. Then, with a burst of energy, I pushed off.

The world tilted as I was soaring weightless again, the wind rushing against my skin. The leaves of a nearby tree brushed my fingertips. But just as quickly, gravity yanked me back. I landed hard, stumbling and falling to one knee. 

The impact jarred through me, but I barely noticed. My lips parted in disbelief as I stared at the ground.

Did I just do that?

My breath quickened as excitement replaced hesitation. I stood again, positioning myself further back, scanning the field for another spot to aim for.

This time, as the wind whipped past, I sprinted forward faster than I ever thought possible. The ground blurred beneath me. With every step, my confidence grew until I finally pushed off again.

Up. Higher this time. The world blurred at the edges, but I laughed—a raw, breathless sound that tore from my chest. The weightlessness filled me, the freedom of soaring, untethered. The leaves from a taller tree brushed against my cheek.

I landed again, rolling to absorb the shock. My knees ached, and my palms stung from scraping against the ground, but I didn’t care. I scrambled to my feet, grinning like an idiot.

Without thinking, I leaped again, spinning slightly in the air, laughing as the wind and the world blurred together. The joy and the sheer impossibility of what I was doing made my chest feel too confined to contain it all.

When I finally stopped, I stood in the middle of the field, gasping for air, the grass swaying around me like silent witnesses to my discovery. My heart thundered in my chest as I wiped the sweat from my brow. Theswayed

I couldn’t believe it. My body buzzed with energy, but my mind reeled. My legs still felt like they belonged to someone else.

“What is happening to me?” I whispered, staring down at my hands.

The wind carried no answer, only the sound of leaves continuing to rustle nearby. But as I stood there, I couldn’t resist feeling a strange mix of fear and exhilaration.

Whatever was happening… I wasn’t the same Renjiro I had been yesterday.

When I returned to the square, the village noise had settled into a familiar hum. It helped calm the storm in my head—at least a little.

Kaelan was leaning against a post, tossing a rock into the air. His grin widened when he saw me.

“You look like you’ve been wrestling with a ghost,” he said, catching the rock and tossing it again.

I started to answer, but before I could, a group of students older kids strolled into view. Jorin, their leader, was already sneering.

“Well, well,” Jorin said, crossing his arms. “If it isn't the good Boy Scouts.”

Kaelan didn’t miss a beat. “Looking for someone to embarrass yourself in front of again, Jorin?”

Jorin’s grin tightened. “You’ve got a smart mouth, Kaelan. Too bad you don’t have the strength to back it up.”

I stepped between them, meeting Jorin’s gaze head-on. “What do you want?”

Jorin didn’t answer right away. He looked me up and down. “Look at this—Kaelan’s got himself a guard dog now. What’s the matter? Can’t fight your own battles?”

Kaelan opened his mouth, no doubt to make things worse, but I shot him a warning look over my shoulder. He hesitated, his smirk faltering.

Jorin leaned closer, “What about you, huh? Do you think you’re tough just because you work in a forge? How about I—”

“Hey, wait.” One of his friends grabbed his arm, “Isn’t that Satoshi’s kid?” and said

Jorin paused, his expression flickering for just a second. He glanced toward the forge, then back at me. The sneer slipped slightly, replaced by a cautious edge.

“Let’s just go,” another one muttered, shooting me a wary look.

Jorin’s jaw tightened, but he took a small step back. “Fine,” he snapped. “This isn’t over.”

He turned and stalked off, his friends trailing after him. One of them cast a final glance my way, then quickly looked away.

The tension in my chest eased as I turned to Kaelan, still grinning like an idiot. “You’re welcome,” I muttered.

But Kaelan couldn’t help himself. “That’s what I thought. All bark, no bite,” he said, his voice echoing with mockery.

Jorin’s face darkened.

He lunged, shoving me to the ground. My head hit the dirt, and Kaelan barely had time to react before Jorin grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against a post.

“You little shit, what did you say?!”

“Let him go!” I scrambled to my feet, my heart pounding.

Jorin ignored me. He raised a fist.

“I said—let him go!”

The ground trembled. A faint swirl of dust rose around my hands, and my veins pulsed with an eerie blue light.

Jorin hesitated, his fist hanging mid-air. “What the hell…?”

“Put him down,” I said, my voice low, dangerous.

That’s when it happened.

The energy surged through me, raw and powerful. My eyes burned, the world narrowing to a single point. I lunged forward and struck.

Jorin flew backward, slamming into a stack of crates. A shockwave rippled out, splintering the wood and scattering debris.

The other bullies froze, their faces pale. Kaelan slid to the ground, coughing and gasping for air.

I stared at my hands, trembling as the faint glow pulsed and faded. In the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a puddle—my face pale, eyes glowing, veins alive with light.

The world around me fell silent.

Kaelan was still on the ground, his eyes wide as they locked on mine. He didn’t say a word—he didn’t have to. His face told me everything. Fear. Confusion. Like he didn’t even recognize me.

I lifted my hand toward him, desperate to close the distance, but he flinched violently, scrambling back on his hands and heels. His breathing came in sharp bursts as if I’d just struck him.

My hand dropped limply to my side.

Then I heard it—the murmurs. I looked up.

They were all there. The entire town. Frozen, their faces etched with confusion and dread. The blacksmiths stood near the forge, staring at me like I was a stranger. Even the apprentices—Kaito, Rikuto, the ones who’d grown up beside me—stood rooted in place, their tools dangling limply in their hands.

Mothers clutched their children tightly. The butcher hovered by his stall, his knife slack in his grip. The baker's face was pale with shock, taking a shaky step back. A chain of unease passed through the crowd, and their whispers grew louder with each breath. And he took,

“What is that?”
“Did you see his hands?”
“His eyes…”
“Stay back!”

My heart thundered as I scanned the faces. They were afraid. Of me.

I took a step back, panic surging through me. “Wait,” I tried to say, my voice trembling. “I—”

“Renjiro!” Satoshi’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the noise like a blade.

I turned toward the sound, but I couldn’t face him. Not now. My legs moved before I could think. I ran past the crowd's edge, the forest rising before me like a shield. Behind me, I heard the startled cries of the villagers, their voices echoing in my ears.

The trees swallowed me whole, but I couldn’t stop running.

That’s when I saw him.

A man lay slumped near a broken cart, his armor tattered and broken. A faint phoenix crest was etched into his chest plate, though much of it was scratched and weathered. 

Without thinking, I rushed over and dropped to my knees beside him. “Hey,” I said, my voice shaking. Are you ok?” I tried to help him sit up, slipping an arm under his shoulders.

His head lolled for a moment before he turned to look at me. His eyes… glowed faintly blue, just like mine had, and his pupils—slits, sharp and animal-like—narrowed as they locked onto me.

“I sense Lumina in you...,” he rasped.

I froze, staring at him. “What?”

“What’s a kid like you doing all the way out here? It’s not safe,” he said. His gaze darted around the clearing, scanning the shadows. “Why aren’t you at Azeron?”

I blinked, confused. “Azeron? What’s that?”

The man squinted at me, trying to decide if I was serious. “You live nearby?”

“In a kingdom,” I said hesitantly, motioning vaguely in the direction I’d come from. “Just past the woods.”

“A kingdom?” He laughed weakly and winced, clutching his side. “out here…?” His voice trailed off as his face darkened. “Everyone here isn’t safe—you have to leave. Now.”

“What do you mean we're not safe?” I asked, my chest tightening.

But he didn’t answer. His head drooped, his body sagged against me, and his energy was spent. He was battered, bruised, and barely holding on.

When we reached the square, my heart was pounding harder than when I’d first run into the woods. I adjusted my grip on the man as I stumbled toward my home.

As I shifted him, the phoenix crest on his armor caught the light, its intricate design glinting faintly. 

“That emblem…” I whispered, staring at it. “The phoenix, what is it? Who are you?”

He groaned softly but didn’t respond.

“Renjiro!”

I whipped around to see Satoshi striding toward me, his face a mix of anger and relief.

“I’ve been looking all over for you!” he said, his voice sharp. “What happened? You just left! How can you run into the woods on your own like that?”

“I—” I started, but his eyes landed on the man slumped against me, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

“What? Who’s this?”

I hesitated, glancing at my palm as a faint swirl of blue energy danced around my fingers. The realization hit me hard, and my breath caught. 

“I think…” I said, barely above a whisper, “I think I’m like him.”

Satoshi’s eyes widened as he stepped closer, his gaze locked on the man’s glowing eyes. Then, in a disbelieving voice, he whispered, “Luminarian…”