One day, in the shadowed alleys of a remote village, a boy wept in silence, unnoticed by the world. Raindrops mingled with the earth, but the tears streaming from his eyes did not fall to the ground—they sank into his soul.
His name was Zeoth. In a world where all were born with magic, he was born without.
The village children knew this. And, as children sometimes do, a cruel few turned his difference into sport. Each day, Zeoth met fists, kicks, and scorn. Yet he never cried.
His eyes held no spark of life. It was as if his emotions had frozen over.
His father, Toren, toiled daily in the forest, felling trees to provide for his family. A sturdy man, his calloused hands bore the weight of labor. Zeoth's mother, Lira, was confined to their home, her body frail from a relentless illness. Yet she always stood strong for her son, her heart trembling as she held him close.
But lately… Zeoth returned home each day marked by harm. Bruises marred his face, scratches lined his body, and his silence screamed with unspoken pain.
Whenever they asked, Zeoth only bowed his head. Not a word, not a glance…
One day, Toren and Lira stepped outside their modest home. Zeoth sat inside on a worn chair, gazing out the window.
"Lira…" Toren began, his voice heavy. "The other children are tormenting our boy. They shun him for having no magic. He comes home battered every day. What are we to do?"
Lira closed her eyes, exhaling wearily. "Take him with you. To the forest. He may not play like the others, but being by your side… it might help. At least you'll make a few memories together."
Toren nodded and entered the house. He knelt before Zeoth.
"Son," he said softly, "how about we go to the forest today? Just you and me. We'll chop some wood, maybe talk a bit, eh?"
Zeoth said nothing. His lifeless eyes met his father's, as if he were not of this world.
Toren gently grasped his son's arms and lifted him. "Come on, we're going."
In the forest, Toren took up his axe, striking a tree with practiced force. Zeoth stood behind him, tilting his head to the sky, then scanning the surroundings.
No one else was there.
Just him, his father, and the echoing thud of the axe. Silence… but a peaceful silence. A faint stir flickered in Zeoth's frozen emotions. For the first time in ages, his heart felt its own rhythm.
Toren turned, smiling. "Let's go deeper today. Places I haven't been before. Maybe we'll find some interesting trees."
Father and son ventured further into the forest's heart, side by side in silence… yet bound by an unspoken connection.
After a time, they spotted an old, seemingly abandoned cabin nestled among the trees. But faint wisps of smoke curled from its chimney.
Toren called out, "Anyone there?!"
A muffled, melancholic voice answered from within: "Yes."
A brief silence followed. Then the door creaked open, and a woman stepped out. Her name was Lily.
Her eyes locked onto Zeoth instantly. Her pulse quickened.
This boy… this energy…
She turned to Toren. "I am Lily, a high-tier mage. With your permission… I wish to take this boy as my student."
Zeoth's brows furrowed. "Magic…"
That word deepened the darkness within him.
Toren responded quickly. "My son can't use magic. But thank you for the offer."
He turned to leave, but Lily's voice halted him.
"You're mistaken. This boy… can use magic."
Toren's eyes widened. Zeoth lifted his head, studying the woman closely.
"My son can use magic?"
Lily took a step forward, her gaze intense yet tinged with a feigned warmth. "Yes. But not in the way you know. He may not conjure fireballs or command the wind. But… he is special."
Toren's face swirled with conflicting emotions. "Special how?"
Lily continued, "Creating a new form of magic is no small feat. It requires vast knowledge and understanding of all magic. I will teach him that knowledge. I will help him forge his own magic."
(Lie: Lily is aware of Zeoth's unique power and seeks to approach him because of the "Core of the Universe." While it's true that creating new magic requires extensive knowledge, her words conceal ulterior motives.)
Toren remained unconvinced. "Why help us? We're poor. We have nothing to offer you."
Lily's eyes flickered, as if summoning a memory that never existed. Her voice softened, deliberate.
"Once… there was a boy like Zeoth, unable to use magic. He, too, was shunned. He, too, was alone. I wanted to take him as my student, to help him create his own magic, but they didn't believe me. And I… watched him die. I swore never to let another soul suffer alone. You may think me a liar, but I'm not."
(Lie: Lily has no such past. This tale was crafted to sway Toren.)
Toren lowered his gaze. After a moment's silence, he spoke. "If you stay close to our home… I'd feel better. I'll arrange a cabin nearby. If you agree, I'll entrust Zeoth to you."
Lily nodded faintly. "That's enough for me."
Toren smiled genuinely for the first time. "Then we have a deal."
And in that moment…
In a humble, unnoticed cabin, within the silent eyes of a broken boy, a journey began—one that would alter the fate of the entire world.