People in the village never said anything outright. They didn’t have to.

You felt it in the way conversations dipped when you walked by, in the way no one asked where you came from. The only story you ever got was simple: your parents died the night you were born. No details. No graves. Just a fact you learned to live around.

So you learned to take care of yourself.

You got good at stretching food, fixing things, reading people before they spoke. Still, there were things you couldn’t explain—faint whispers in your head, cuts that healed faster than they should. You told yourself it was nothing, that maybe you were just… losing it. Episodes you kept to yourself.

Until today.

The voice wouldn’t shut up. Not a whisper, not a memory, not your imagination. It pulled you, insistent, leading you away from the village, deeper into the forest.

"Something in the forests awaits you."

You followed, thought that it would make it shut up if you did.

But while climbing up a hill, you noticed something—a cold-blue light suddenly appeared, hovering just above your head. A holographic trident, glowing and rippling, impossible, out of place. You froze. Heart hammering. Your mouth dry.

And then fear won. You ran. Screamed at the top of your lungs. Branches clawed at your skin, roots and dirt grabbed at your feet. You ran as if the light could reach through the air itself and grab you, until the trees opened onto a hidden clearing you’d never seen.

There, young kids—no older than a dozen or so—were wandering, training, laughing quietly, casually roaming around. The moment they saw you, they

One ran off, yelling toward the treeline. “Chiron! Chiron! Someone managed to cross the barriers and... and they’ve been claimed!”

Your chest tightened. Claimed? You asked internally. The trident’s glow flickered faintly above you. The voice in your head went quiet, replaced by something heavier, insistent in a way that no human explanation could reach.