Tharros nodded. “Identifying manna is a crucial skill for any adept. It’s the foundation of power, the building block of life and being able to sense it can mean the difference between life and death.” Jade, who had been quietly observing the conversation, spoke up. “I’ll leave you two to your training. I’ll go… take in fresh air or something.” She smiled mischievously and headed out of the living room, leaving Alister and Tharros alone. Tharros watched Jade go, a hint of a smile on his lips. “Very well, let’s begin. Identifying manna requires focus, discipline, and a bit of intuition. I’ll teach you a simple exercise to get you started.” “To see manna, you must first understand what it is” Tharros said. Alister interrupts, claiming to already know what it is. “Easy, manna is a form of energy” Tharros, shook his head “That’s were you’re wrong, Alister. Manna is more than just energy, it is the building block of life and magic. A creatures very soul, is an astronomical represe

The woman’s glare burned with frustration, but the blind man’s voice cut through the tension, calm and authoritative. “That’s enough.” Without waiting for argument, he gestured for her to release Damian. Chains clinked as Damian was freed and helped to his feet. Ignoring the woman’s protests, the blind man turned and began walking away. “You’re coming with me.” He said to Damian Damian’s anger flared immediately. “Explain to me what the hell is going on! Who are you? What do you want from me?” The blind man stopped, turning slowly with a soft smile. “Calm yourself. I’m not your enemy.” He extended a hand. “I’m Takeda. And I know what you’ve been through.” Damian opened his mouth to reply, but Takeda cut him off, voice steady and eyes hidden behind dark glasses. “You’re Damian. The boy who lost everything in that terrible accident, thirteen years ago. The family who died in front of your eyes.” Damian’s heart skipped. “How do you—?” Takeda’s smile deepened. “Because

Darkness. Not the kind that creeps in slowly, but the kind that clamps over you like a burial cloth. Damian stirred, his head pounding with a thick, pulsing ache. His mouth was dry, his skin damp with cold sweat. It took him a moment to realize his eyes were open—only to discover he couldn't see. A coarse fabric was tied tightly around his head. Blindfolded. Panic tickled the edge of his chest, but he forced his breath to steady. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Slow. Controlled. Just like he’d taught himself over the years. He tried to move his hands. Clink. A heavy, metallic sound answered him—cold iron biting into his wrists. Chains. The weight of them pulled his arms down, locking them somewhere behind him. The metal dug into his skin, raw and unrelenting, and every movement made the shackles clatter against what felt like concrete beneath him. “Where… am I?” he whispered, but his voice was hoarse, brittle, and the room swallowed it whole. No reply.

Thirteen years had passed. But the rain still sounded the same. It pattered against the rusted rooftop like it had that night—cold, indifferent, and eternal. Damian sat hunched in a folding chair near the only window of his cramped one-room apartment. The wallpaper was peeling, the light above flickered without rhythm, and the air reeked of stale instant noodles and damp wood. A single flickering lamp cast long shadows across his bare mattress and scattered clothes. He was twenty-two now. Lean, tired-eyed, and hardened by years of solitude. Damian Nakamura was alive, but barely. Not in any way that counted. He lit the last half of a cigarette and exhaled slowly, his dark eyes fixed on the rain outside. The city below was shrouded in fog, neon lights bleeding like bruises across the wet streets. He hadn’t dreamt in weeks. He didn’t want to. But the man with the golden eyes still visited him—not in sleep, but in every reflection. In every quiet moment. In the sound of thund

The air was crisp and cold, the sky covered by dark clouds that pulsed like veins. Lightning forked without sound, and the cold heavy rain poured without mercy. “Mom! Dad! Eliana! Lisa! No, please, don’t leave me” Damian yelled, kneeling under the rain, the headless-body of his mother clenched tightly to his arms. Damian was soaked by the rain and in blood, crying in agony, cold, shaking, alone. “Why? Why did you do this? What did we ever do to you?” His voice echoing into the open, as he screamed in rage. The man stood before Damian—quiet, his golden eyes starting at him with a glowing intensity. Then a smirk crawled on his lips. The sight of the man’s expression sent a shiver down his spine.“Wh-What are you?” Damian cried, his jaw trembling, tears flowing, limbs shaking in horror, water dripping from all over, his soaked clothes clinging to his childish structure as slowly crawling backwards. … … (Now, I know your probably wondering “what the hell’s going on?” so let’s rewin