The wind came down from the high crags with the bite of winter and the taste of coal smoke. It whispered through the trees like a half-forgotten lullaby, carrying with it the scent of dying fires and the subtle, ever-present tang of iron.

  Joren Thorne stood alone at the edge of the Emberwood, boots rooted in frostbitten earth, eyes fixed on the horizon. Ahead of him, the mountains rose like black teeth gnawing at a blood-red dusk. Their peaks were veiled in ashen mist, that ever-present shroud that locals believed was the breath of the gods. Or the dying exhale of something older.

  Behind him lay Emberfall.

  He could still hear it: the rhythmic clang of hammer on steel from the forges, the barking of traders as they haggled over ingots and hides, and the low, persistent hum of the ley-reactor that powered the settlement’s shields. The town clung to the edge of the world like a barnacle on a leviathan’s back—surviving, but never thriving.

  Joren adjusted the leather strap on his satchel, worn and patched a dozen times over. His hands were chapped from the cold and the hard labor he’d never been suited for. His bones ached in a way that had nothing to do with age and everything to do with exhaustion. He was seventeen and already felt ancient.

  He had no system.

  That fact alone made him less than nothing in Emberfall.

  In a world where children Awakened as early as ten, where their stats were cataloged and classes granted by the Worldfire System, Joren remained untagged. No interface. No affinity. No numerical readouts to tell him he was strong or clever or destined for something greater.

  Others gained strength by training, or wealth through labor. Joren had neither. The mines rejected him for his lack of stamina. The guard wouldn't take someone without system access. And the weavers and forgemasters had no patience for someone who could barely hold a thread of ether.

  He was a Voidborn, they whispered. Systemless. Flawed.

  He was something to be pitied—or worse, ignored.

  He’d stopped trying to explain it. Even his mother, gone these past two years, had wept the night of his fourteenth birthday when no glyphs had appeared, when the System had remained silent. She’d begged the local magistrate to test him again. Then again. Then again.

  Nothing.

  Joren knew better than to hope.

  And yet, here he was. Standing on the threshold of the Emberwood on the Night of Calling.

  Every year, on the eve of the new cycle, the unproven youths of Emberfall would enter the woods. Some to test their might, others to seek ancient contracts with wandering spirits or dormant relics. Most came back. A few did not.

  All were changed.

  He shouldn’t have come. He knew that. But he was tired of waiting for a miracle that would never arrive.

  Behind him, he heard footsteps. Heavy ones, armored and certain.

  “Joren?”

  He turned. Of course it was Kael.

  Kael Stormmark was everything Joren wasn’t. Towering, broad-shouldered, with stormsteel gauntlets etched with system sigils. His interface danced around him like a living thing, numbers flickering beside his golden eyes. He was already Rank D—elite even among the Awakened.

  Joren offered a tired smile. “Surprised you noticed me.”

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  Kael frowned. “You don’t belong out here.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why?”

  Joren looked back toward the trees. The mist had begun to thicken, curling around the gnarled roots like serpents.

  “Because I’m tired of being nothing.”

  Kael said nothing for a while. Then, softer: “There’s no shame in surviving.”

  “There’s also no meaning in it.”

  Kael sighed, shook his head, and turned away. “If you’re not out by dawn, we won’t be looking for you.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

  Joren watched him leave, then took a step into the woods.

  The change was immediate.

  The temperature dropped. The air thickened. The world hushed itself, as if holding its breath. The trees here were ancient things, their bark scorched black from some old fire, their limbs creaking with unseen weight.

  He felt it, then. A hum—not in his body, but in the earth itself. A low vibration, pulsing just beneath his feet. It called to something he didn’t have a name for.

  He followed it.

  Hours passed, though he could not say how many. The sky above had long since disappeared behind a canopy of tangled limbs and swirling mist. Time unraveled in these woods. His legs burned, but he pressed on, driven by a longing deeper than fear.

  Finally, he came to a clearing.

  At its center stood a stone. Not carved, not placed. Grown. As if the earth itself had thrust it upward. It pulsed faintly with inner fire, like a dying coal. Strange symbols danced across its surface—glyphs older than the System.

  He approached.

  The stone responded.

  > Interface Error. Unrecognized Host.

  A flicker. A whisper.

  > Searching…

  > Query: Joren Thorne. Systemless. Void Signature Detected.

  He froze. Words formed in his mind, not spoken, but etched into his thoughts like fire into flesh.

  > Compatibility: 0.01%

  > Classification: Non-Host.

  > Override… in progress.

  The glyphs brightened.

  > WARNING: Host structure unstable. Reconfiguration required.

  > Proceed? Y/N

  His heart thundered.

  This was it.

  He could walk away. Go back to nothing. Or he could gamble what little he had left.

  “…Y.”

  The world shattered.

  Pain tore through him. Not just physical. It was as though his soul had been unraveled, thread by thread, and rewoven into something new. His body convulsed. He collapsed to the ground, screaming through gritted teeth as light poured from his eyes and mouth.

  Then darkness.

  And in that darkness, something stirred.

  > Alignment Achieved.

  > Class: Ashbound Remnant

  > Status: Incomplete Awakening

  > System Integration: Fragmentary

  > Warning: Stat synchronization failed. Manual progression required.

  He gasped awake.

  The stone was cold now. The glyphs gone.

  But something had changed.

  Not enough to make him strong. Not enough to make him whole.

  But enough to make him *possible.*

  He sat up slowly, coughing blood.

  > New Stat Unlocked: Tenacity (Unique)

  > Description: You do not quit. You do not die. You persist.

  Joren Thorne smiled through the pain.

  For the first time in his life, the System had spoken to him.

  Even if it was only a whisper.