The morning sun filtered through the window, the weight of another ordinary day. But for Kael Ardyn, nothing felt ordinary anymore.
He had exactly thirty days left before his fate would be decided.
He lay on his sleeping mat staring up at the patched ceiling. A faint crack ran across it like a lightning scar, something he used to pretend was part of a grand constellation. When he was younger, he'd tell his mother the crack looked like the path heroes walked to change their destinies.
Now, he wasn't sure if destiny had a path for people like him.
He rolled to his feet silently. His mother slept on the only real bed in the apartment — thin mattress, faded sheets — but it was hers. Her breaths were slow, strained, the kind that squeezed Kael's heart every time he listened.
He fetched a bowl of water, wrung out a clean cloth, and gently wiped her forehead. Her skin was warm. Too warm.
"Mum," he murmured, brushing strands of hair from her face. "I'll fix this. I promise."
Her eyes stayed closed, her chest rising just barely.
Kael stood and washed his face at the small sink. The tap sputtered before water came, cold as always. He didn't flinch. He was used to cold things — cold water, cold streets, cold luck.
Breakfast was a handful of soaked garri. He didn't need more. Hunger was familiar; exhaustion was familiar. What mattered was keeping his body strong enough to enter the Gate next month.
Seventeen.
The age where your life truly began — or ended.
He stepped out into the early morning bustle of Eastbridge, the district where most low-income families lived. The buildings were old, walls stained with years of sun and rain. Children ran barefoot across the dusty road, their laughter echoing between the concrete blocks.
Above them, digital billboards flashed:
"COUNTDOWN TO AWAKENING.
VEIL ENTRY EXAMINATION OPENS IN 30 DAYS."
Others displayed news clips:
"Another Veilborn passes the Gate Trial."
"Veilless risk rises by 4 percent."
"New combat spirit discovered in Veilworld's Southern Front."
The world was obsessed with the Veil. How could it not be? Every ruler, every military commander, every wealthy elite — they were once spirit-bonded individuals who survived the Veil.
Kael had no illusions. He knew his odds.
But he had to try.
He reached the mechanic workshop. Old Toba, with his thick beard and wrinkled hands, nodded at him without looking up from the engine he was working on.
"You're early," Toba muttered. "Good. Grab the toolbox."
Kael did. For the next three hours, he worked tirelessly — hauling parts, unscrewing bolts, testing lights, checking engines. Oil stained his hands, sweat clung to his back. Cars came and left. Customers argued over prices. A child laughed when Kael accidentally smeared grease on his cheek.
Normal life.
A life he wouldn't be living for long.
During a short break, Toba spoke.
"You're almost seventeen, right?"
"Yes."
"You know the statistics?" Toba asked. "Out of every hundred who enter the Gate, only sixty come out alive. And of that sixty, half get useless spirits. Sensing, healing, guiding, vision… tools, not weapons." He looked at Kael seriously. "People mock those ones."
Kael wiped his hands. "A spirit is a spirit."
"A spirit won't fight for you," Toba countered. "Combat spirits do. Fire wolves, steel rhinos, shadow blades… people with those rise fast."
Kael said nothing.
"You're doing this for your mother," the old man continued quietly. "But she would never want you to throw your life away."
Kael turned to him. "If I do nothing, she dies. If I enter, I might die. But there is at least a chance she lives."
Toba's jaw tightened. "Then I hope the Veil treats you kindly."
A rare prayer.
Evening settled by the time Kael left the workshop. The sky was heavy with clouds, the kind that promised rain. He headed home, stopping by a fruit stall to buy one small apple — a luxury he wouldn't normally afford.
The vendor, a woman with tired eyes, recognized him.
"For your mother?" she asked.
Kael nodded.
She added a second apple. "No extra charge. Give her both."
"Ma'am, I—"
"Don't argue," she said, shaking her head. "Good children are rare in this world. Don't lose your mother."
Kael swallowed hard and thanked her.
When he returned home, he sliced the apples carefully. His mother was awake for a few moments — long enough to whisper his name.
"Kael…"
"I'm here," he said, smiling softly. "Rest."
She drifted back to sleep.
Kael sat by her side for hours, listening to her breathing as rain began to fall outside — steady, soft, comforting. The room grew darker, but he didn't turn on the light. Darkness made it easier to hide the dread in his chest.
He finally stood, walked to the window, and stared out at Eastbridge glowing under streetlights. Cars moved like tiny sparks. Families closed shop stalls. Young kids in Veil entrance uniforms trained in the park.
Kael exhaled.
"One month," he said quietly. "I don't care what spirit I bond with. Even if it's weak. Even if people laugh. I'll survive. I'll grow. And I'll find a way to save her."
Lightning flashed, illuminating his determined eyes.
The storm outside couldn't compare to the storm building inside .