The town of Willowsberg sat under the falling sunlight, its dusty streets winding between crumbling homes and market stalls. The sun struggled to pierce through smoky clouds that hung over the quiet village. It has always been a town of peace and quiet.
In this world, silence was safety. Fear was wide spread across the region. The emperor was known to have eyes and ears, even in the most distant dark corners of the world. No where was safe.
At a bread stall near the market’s edge, a soldier clad in dark Spirit armor slammed his gloved hand on the wooden table.
“Hand it over, geezer! You’re late with your dues again,” he barked.
The old vendor trembled, clutching his chest. “P-please, I’ve already given what little I have—”
Another guard stepped in and shoved the man hard. The crowd didn’t intervene. They just watched, heads low, eyes avoiding the confrontation. Fear clung to the air like dust.
This wasn’t abnormal, though particularly frustrating. This was one of the more liked gentlemen in Willowsberg. Helpful, to many. Military soldiers were brutal and usually dense with Spirit energy.
Their dark armor radiated a blue like energy when channeling their Spirit energy. It made them even more durable and dangerous than average Spirit users. A gift, or form of control to entice anyone with Spirit affinity to join the Emperor’s ranks. Outside of the armor, who knows what else they are capable of.
From the fringe of the onlookers, a woman stepped forward. Summer. Her violet eyes didn’t waver, even as the soldiers noticed her approach.
“That’s enough,” she said, voice calm but firm. “He’s done nothing wrong.”
One of the guards turned and sneered. “What’s this? A hero with no Spirit? Should’ve stayed quiet, woman.”
His armored hand cracked across her face, sending her stumbling back. A few gasps slipped from the silent crowd.
A boy—fifteen, dark-haired with grey-blue eyes—stood frozen nearby. Sun. His heart pounded in his chest as he watched his mother fall to the ground.
Not again, he told himself. I won’t just watch.
He ran. Dust swirled behind his sprint. But a guard intercepted him mid-charge, throwing Sun backwards with one brutal strike. His body slammed into the dirt.
“Sun!” Summer cried, reaching for him.
He groaned, blood at the corner of his mouth. But he wasn’t done. Not yet.
The guard raised his arm again, preparing to strike Summer once more. Sun, barely conscious, reached out toward her.
“Please… stop…noooo!”
His hand crackled. A golden glow danced around his fingertips trying to emit Spirit aura. In an instant, a protective energy erupted from his palm, wrapping around Summer like a radiant shield.
The crowd stirred.
“He used Spirit…? A kid?” someone whispered.
The guard staggered backward, stunned.
“You little rat…!” the soldier growled. He raised his fist, infused with Spirit energy, and drove it into Sun’s back.
The boy collapsed. Rain began to fall.
Summer rushed to his side, kneeling beside him in the mud, tears welling in her eyes.
“Sun…!”
The soldiers shifted, sensing unrest in the crowd. One muttered, “Let’s move. We’ve made our point.”
Without another word, they vanished into the misty streets.
Rain deepened as Summer cradled Sun’s unconscious body.
“You have your father’s fire…” she whispered.
Later that night, Sun woke on a straw mat in their small home. Summer quietly tended to his bruises.
“I couldn’t let them hurt you again,” he said.
Summer hesitated. “You’ve awakened something… but it puts a target on your back now.”
Sun sat up, wincing. Determined. “Relax, Summer said. Now that you can use Spirit energy, it will take time to recover and adapt to it”
Summer, looked down as if trying to tell him something. But couldn’t find the words.
“Then I’ll find the resistance. I’ll find Dad. If I can protect even one person… I have to try.”
Summer stared at him sadly, tears just behind her eyes. Then she pulled him into a tight embrace.
“Then go,” she said. “But don’t lose yourself in this world. Your Spirit—it’s yours, not theirs.”
The next morning, the clouds began to part.
At the edge of Willowsberg, Sun stood in the early light, cloak slung over one shoulder. He turned back one last time. Summer stood in the distance, proud and worried, her eyes never leaving him.
And so the silence cracked… with a whisper of Spirit and the footsteps of a boy brave enough to break it.
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