The Harsh Beginning (2)

Kaelith darted through the narrow alleys, his heart still pounding from the chaos in the market. The memory of the boy's power lingered in his mind—how effortlessly he had destroyed those thugs, how invincible he had seemed. Kaelith couldn't shake the feeling of inadequacy gnawing at him. He gritted his teeth, anger bubbling under the surface. He was tired of being weak, of having to run, hide, and scavenge to survive.

As he turned a corner, the shadows thickened, the light from the market behind him fading into the distance. He knew these streets well—dark, dangerous, and largely abandoned by the city's guards. This part of Lythrion was left to the desperate, the outcasts, and those like him who had nowhere else to go.

Kaelith slowed his pace as he approached a small, dilapidated building nestled between two larger structures. Its once-proud wooden door was half rotted, hanging loosely from rusted hinges. This was his hideout, a place forgotten by most, but it served its purpose. No one bothered to check for the likes of him here.

He slipped inside, careful not to make any noise. The inside was just as dismal as the exterior—dark, damp, and cold. A small pile of rags in the corner served as his bed, and a half-broken table supported what little he had managed to scavenge over the weeks: a few dried pieces of bread and a small flask of water. It wasn't much, but it kept him alive.

Sinking onto the pile of rags, Kaelith rubbed his face with trembling hands. He couldn't live like this anymore. Watching that boy unleash his power had ignited something deep inside him—a yearning for more, for strength, for control over his fate. But he was realistic enough to know that awakening an attribute wasn't something that happened easily, especially for someone like him.

"What am I supposed to do?" he muttered to himself, leaning back against the cold wall. His thoughts drifted to the tales he had heard of powerful cultivators, of those who wielded the laws of the universe with mastery. Space, Time, Life, and Death—those were the things that mattered in this world. And then there were the basic elements—Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Lightning—each one a manifestation of power that could reshape the very fabric of reality.

But Kaelith? He had none of that. No laws governed him, no elements danced at his fingertips. His fists clenched as he realized just how far he was from that kind of power. The gap between him and those born with potent attributes seemed insurmountable.

His mind raced as he considered his options. He had heard of ways to force an awakening—dangerous rituals, dark practices, and soul trials that could unlock a person's potential at the cost of their sanity or even their life. But those were risky and often led to corruption or death. Still, the hunger for power gnawed at him relentlessly.

As Kaelith sat in the silence of his hideout, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside. His heart skipped a beat, his instincts telling him to remain still. The footsteps were slow, deliberate, not the hurried kind that belonged to the usual passerby.

His hand instinctively reached for his knife, gripping the hilt tightly as he strained to hear. The footsteps stopped just outside the door. A tense silence followed, and Kaelith's pulse quickened. Was someone here for him? Had he been followed from the market?

The door creaked open slowly, and Kaelith held his breath, his back pressed against the wall, ready to strike if necessary.

A figure stepped into the dimly lit room, their face shrouded by the hood of a dark cloak. Kaelith could only make out a glimpse of sharp, piercing eyes beneath the shadow, but something about the stranger's presence sent a chill down his spine. They radiated power—an aura that made the air feel heavy.

"Kaelith," the stranger said, their voice smooth but carrying an edge that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He didn't reply, tightening his grip on the knife. How did they know his name?

"You can put the knife down," the stranger said, their tone calm yet commanding. "If I wanted to kill you, I would've done so already."

Kaelith's knuckles whitened as he considered his options. He could attack, but he doubted he would get far. There was something about the way this person carried themselves—an assurance that spoke of overwhelming strength.

After a tense pause, Kaelith slowly lowered the knife, but he didn't let it go. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice rough.

The stranger remained silent for a moment before pulling back their hood, revealing the face of a woman. She had striking, pale features framed by jet-black hair, and her eyes gleamed with a cold intensity. There was a certain elegance to her appearance, but beneath it, Kaelith could sense something dangerous.

"I go by many names," she replied, stepping further into the room. "But for now, you can call me Elowen."

Kaelith's brow furrowed. The name meant nothing to him, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this woman was more than she appeared. "What do you want?"

Elowen's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "I've been watching you," she said, her voice soft yet unsettling. "I saw what happened in the market. I know what you desire, Kaelith. Power. Strength. Control over your own fate."

Kaelith's heart raced, but he kept his expression guarded. "So what if I do? Everyone in this city wants power."

Elowen stepped closer, her gaze never leaving his. "True, but not everyone is willing to pay the price for it. I can help you, Kaelith. I can show you the way to awaken your attribute."

His breath hitched. "Why would you help me? What's in it for you?"

Elowen chuckled softly. "Consider it a... mutual interest. You're not the only one who wants power. But in this world, strength is often best acquired through alliances. You and I—we're more alike than you think."

Kaelith's mind raced as he considered her words. He didn't trust her—not yet. But if there was even a chance she could help him unlock his potential, could he really afford to refuse? His desperation for power warred with his instinct for survival, and for a long moment, the silence hung heavy between them.

Finally, he spoke. "What do I have to do?"

Elowen's smile widened, and her eyes gleamed with something darker. "For now, just follow my lead. There's a trial coming, one that will test your limits. If you survive, you'll be one step closer to the strength you crave."

Kaelith felt a knot form in his stomach, but the hunger for power burned brighter than his fear. He nodded slowly, sealing his fate with that single gesture.

Elowen turned towards the door, her voice echoing as she left. "Be ready, Kaelith. Your journey is only just beginning."

As the door closed behind her, Kaelith's grip on the knife loosened. His mind swirled with questions and uncertainty, but one thing was clear: this woman, whoever she was, had just offered him the chance he had been searching for.

Now, it was up to him to take it.