Chapter 2: The Boy from the River

  The rain had not stopped for three days. The river swelled, angry and loud, like it was roaring a secret to the world.

  Down its murky waters, wrapped in a worn white cloth and barely louder than the wind, floated a baby—silent, cold, and alone.

  No name. No home. No trace of who he belonged to.

  Just a pendant around his neck, strange and old—shaped like a lightning bolt twisted into a spiral. It pulsed faintly, unseen to human eyes.

  That morning, Father Rion, an old priest known for taking in the lost and unwanted, was walking the riverbank near his orphanage. He was muttering prayers when he heard it—not a cry, not a wail, but a sudden clap of thunder from a sky that hadn’t stormed yet.

  And there he saw him—the child the river delivered.

  He took the boy in without question. Called him Noel, meaning "born of hope". Some thought him mad to raise another mouth to feed, especially one sent by the river gods, but Rion simply smiled and said:

  > “He has lightning in his veins. That’s a gift this cruel world will one day need.”

  Years passed.

  The orphanage became Noel’s world. Small, dusty halls filled with broken beds, loud kids, and scraps of food. But he laughed more than he cried. He dreamed bigger than the sky allowed. He cracked jokes even when his belly ached with hunger.

  He didn’t know who his parents were. He didn’t know why they let him go. But he knew one thing for sure:

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  > “One day, I’ll make a world where no kid gets left in a river.

  One evening, as the sun dipped and the wind howled across the crooked roof tiles, two boys sat on top of the orphanage like kings of a broken castle.

  Noel, with his wild black hair and scraped elbows, leaned back like he owned the world. Beside him, Kaizel, taller by just enough to annoy Noel, chewed a dry biscuit like it was fine cuisine.

  “I swear,” Noel said, mouth half full of stale bread, “my Menju day’s gonna be legendary. I’ll wake up and boom—lightning everywhere. People’ll call me Lord of Thunder. Or, I dunno... Noel the Storm God.”

  Kaizel snorted. “You? Storm God? You can’t even handle the bathwater when it gets too hot.”

  “That was one time,” Noel snapped. “And the water was boiling! You try stepping into lava!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Kaizel said with a grin. “Just don’t zap yourself trying to light a candle. Wouldn’t be the first time I find you knocked out with your hair smoking.”

  “You’re just jealous ‘cause your power’s probably gonna be something lame. Like talking to worms. Or fart invisibility.”

  Kaizel choked on his biscuit laughing. “Fart invisibility? What does that even mean?”

  “It means no one knows it was you!” Noel said, bursting into laughter. “Stealth attacks, Kaizel! That’s elite power!”

  “Right,” Kaizel wheezed, wiping tears from his eyes. “And you’ll lead the revolution with shocking handshakes and thunder burps.”

  “I could,” Noel grinned. “Imagine me standing in front of an army, wind blowing, cape flapping, thunder crackling behind me… and then—bzzzz!—I zap a mosquito.”

  Kaizel collapsed back onto the roof, howling with laughter. “Terrifying. The world won’t know what hit it.”

  They laughed until their sides hurt. There were no nobles, no kings, no cruel rules in that moment—just two idiots on a roof, dreaming of power and pretending the world wasn’t broken.

  The sky above them rumbled softly, as if laughing too.

  Their laughter slowly faded, replaced by the soft whistling of wind and the far-off growl of thunder. The sky above was turning purple, stars peeking out behind scattered clouds.

  Noel sat up, arms around his knees, eyes scanning the darkening town below—the flicker of torches, the crooked rooftops, the slums that stretched into the distance like a scar on the earth.

  He was quiet for a moment. Then, without looking at Kaizel, he asked:

  “…Hey, Kaizel. Do you like this world?”

  Kaizel blinked, caught off guard. “Huh?”

  “This world,” Noel repeated. “Where people like us are just… nothing. Where nobles live in towers while kids steal moldy bread to survive. Where some people are born free, and others are born as tools.”

  Kaizel didn’t answer right away.

  Noel’s voice softened, but every word burned. “I hate it. I hate that we’re treated like dirt just ‘cause we don’t have parents. I hate that people smile with lies in their teeth and blood on their hands.”

  He turned to Kaizel, eyes glowing with something fiercer than anger.

  > “Kaizel… I’m gonna change this world.”

  > “I’ll build a world where slaves have freedom. Where orphans like us aren’t lower than normal. Where every person—human, elf, demi, dwarf, anyone—can live with the same dignity.”

  > “A world where people can give their purest smile… without fear.”

  The wind picked up again, brushing through their hair like the breath of something ancient.

  Kaizel looked at him, dead serious now. He wanted to say something—something smart, something reassuring—but all he managed was a crooked smile and a soft, “You really are an idiot, you know that?”

  Noel grinned. “Yup. But I’m your idiot.”

  They sat in silence for a while, watching the sky as the first stars blinked awake—unaware that destiny was already shifting in the shadows, preparing to test that dream.