The iron-bound carriage jolted over the uneven road, each bump sending a fresh wave of nausea through Kyle's stomach. He stayed curled in the corner, his face streaked with dried salt from his tears. Through the narrow slats of the wooden cage, he watched the world he loved wither away.
The lush, emerald forests of the Inner Region were being replaced by gray, jagged rocks and stunted trees. The air, once sweet with the scent of blooming mana-orchids, now tasted of ash and cold iron.
"Look at that," a voice whispered from the shadows of the cage.
Kyle looked up. Beside him sat a girl no older than twelve, her clothes tattered and her eyes wide with a hollow kind of terror. She pointed a trembling finger toward the horizon.
Rising up like a wall that touched the clouds was The Great Barrier.
It was a shimmering, translucent veil of
The iron-bound carriage jolted over the uneven road, each bump sending a fresh wave of nausea through Kyle's stomach. He stayed curled in the corner, his face streaked with dried salt from his tears. Through the narrow slats of the wooden cage, he watched the world he loved wither away.
The lush, emerald forests of the Inner Region were being replaced by gray, jagged rocks and stunted trees. The air, once sweet with the scent of blooming mana-orchids, now tasted of ash and cold iron.
"Look at that," a voice whispered from the shadows of the cage.
Kyle looked up. Beside him sat a girl no older than twelve, her clothes tattered and her eyes wide with a hollow kind of terror. She pointed a trembling finger toward the horizon.
Rising up like a wall that touched the clouds was The Great Barrier.
It was a shimmering, translucent veil of violent energy. It hummed with a sound that vibrated in Kyle's very teeth—a sound of absolute power. Beyond that veil, there was no sunlight, only a hazy, bronze-colored sky that looked like a bruised limb.
"That's where they put the trash," the girl whispered, pulling her knees to her chest. "Once you go through, you never come back. My mother said the 'Manaless' down there don't even have names. They just have numbers."
Kyle gripped his rusted pendant until it dug into his palm. He wanted to scream that he wasn't trash. He wanted to tell them that he had worked harder than any of the other orphans. But the words died in his throat. In the face of the Barrier, his effort meant nothing.
The carriage slowed down as they reached the Outer Gate. A squad of Guild Sentinels stood guard, their armor glowing with protective runes.
"Cargo for the Wastes!" the carriage driver shouted, tossing a scroll to the guards. "Ten Manaless. Healthy enough for the mines, I reckon."
One of the Sentinels walked to the back of the cage. He poked a spear through the bars, prodding Kyle's shoulder. "Move it, livestock. Out of the cage."
Kyle stumbled out onto the hard, cold earth. The wind here was different—it bit at his skin, unfettered by the climate-control spells of the inner cities.
"Line up!" the Sentinel roared.
As Kyle stood in the line, he saw the "Processing Center." It wasn't a building; it was a series of iron pens built right against the shimmering violet wall of the Barrier. On the other side of the violet light, he could see silhouettes. They were thin, bent-over figures moving slowly through a landscape of brown mud and jagged black stone.
"Step forward, Number 176809," a clerk said, not even looking at Kyle's face.
He didn't call him Kyle. The name was already gone.
"Wait," Kyle begged, his voice small and hoarse. "My pendant... can I keep it? It's all I have."
The clerk looked at the rusted iron piece. He sneered, seeing no magical value in the corroded metal. "Keep your junk. It's the only weight you'll have to carry that isn't a stone."
The Sentinel grabbed Kyle by the collar of his tunic. With a grunt of effort, he swung Kyle toward the shimmering violet veil.
"Welcome to the rest of your life, Manaless."
Kyle closed his eyes as he hit the Barrier.
The sensation was agonizing. Because he had no Mana Space, the Barrier didn't recognize him as a living being. It felt like being pushed through a wall of static electricity and freezing water. Every fiber of his muscles screamed as the violet energy tried to find a core to latch onto, found nothing, and violently rejected him.
He was spat out the other side.
Kyle hit the ground hard. The "soil" here wasn't earth—it was a mixture of clay, sharp gravel, and ash. He coughed, drawing in a breath of air that felt heavy and thin.
He lay there for a long time, his body trembling from the shock of the transition. He was ten years old, and he was officially Vanished.
"Easy there, lad. Don't try to stand too fast. The 'Heavy Air' takes a minute to get used to."
A hand, rough and calloused like tree bark, rested on Kyle's shoulder. Kyle looked up through blurry eyes. An old man with a missing eye and a back bent like a bow was kneeling beside him. He wore a gray tunic marked with a faded red 'X'.
"Am I... am I a slave now?" Kyle whispered.
The old man gave a sad, toothless smile and handed Kyle a cracked wooden bowl filled with murky water.
"We don't use that word here, boy," the man said softly. "The Mages call us livestock. But we... we just call ourselves the Survivors. Come on. The Overseer is coming, and if you aren't holding a shovel when he gets here, you won't get your crust of bread tonight."
Kyle looked at the bowl, then at the towering, shimmering wall behind him that now blocked out the sun. He took a sip of the bitter water and stood up, his small legs shaking.
He was in the Outer Region. And for the first time, the rusted pendant against his chest felt... warm.