SPIRITBINDER: The Boy Without A Mark

The dawn broke silently in the small village, with light streaming through the gaps in the wooden shutters of Morvane's home. He stirred awake, still bearing the weight of yesterday's events on his chest. He had dreamed of his awakening for years, but now. He felt haunted by the absence of a mark.

Still, the aroma of steaming bread and freshly brewed tea filled the air to remind him of the warmth of his adoptive grandmother's presence. He got out of bed and began with the routine of washing up and getting dressed and eventually walked into the kitchen for breakfast, set neatly on the wooden table.

As he sat down, he looked at the food in front of him with a slight smile. Even though his heart was broken, he was pleased that his grandmother had tried so hard. She had stayed up all night, trying to calm him down by telling him stories of hope and resilience.

Just before he started eating, Morvane shouted, "Grandma, are you there?"

His grandmother entered the room, her kind eyes filled with concern. "Good morning, my dear. Are you feeling any better now?" she asked gently, her voice tinged with worry.

Morvane hesitated, then asked, "Grandma, that story you told me last night. About the one who didn't awaken a power but still made a difference. Was it true? Did it really happen?"

She gave him a vague smile, her eyes far away. "Stories always carry a bit of truth in them, Morvane. Sometimes, they're meant to inspire more than to explain."

This was when she looked away, choosing her words quite carefully. More than what the words said: She wasn't ready to disclose. Determined, Morvane was not leaving this mystery alive. Something with the way that she spoke showed him that he could only understand it as one beginning of many, much beyond what he'd be able to envision.

For now, he would eat and gather his strength. The world may have denied him a mark, but Morvane felt that his story was far from being over.

Morning's serenity was disrupted when a voice yelled from afar,

"Morvane! Morvane!"

Luna was screaming frantically as she ran towards their house. Her face was pale and smeared with tears. Morvane and his grandmother rushed to the door in alarm at her appearance.

"Luna, what's wrong? Why are you screaming?" Morvane asked, his voice full of concern.

Barely able to catch her breath, Luna cried out, "It's Esmael! He… he used his powers, and—and he accidentally set their house on fire! It's burning!"

The words struck Morvane like a lightning bolt. His heart was racing as his grandmother immediately sprang into action. "I'll go and find help—water manipulators, anyone nearby!" she said, grabbing her cloak and rushing out through a different path.

"Come on, Morvane!" Luna pulled at his arm, and they both ran toward Esmael's house.

Upon arrival, the scene was chaotic. Flames engulfed the small wooden house, crackling angrily as smoke billowed into the sky. Villagers gathered nearby, some shouting for water, others too shocked to move.

In front of the burning home, Esmael knelt on the ground, crying uncontrollably. His hands were shaking as he looked at the destruction he had caused. "I-I didn't mean to… I couldn't stop it…", he whispered, his voice broken.

"Esmael! Get up! We're here to help!" Morvane shouted, but Esmael did not move, paralyzed by fear and guilt.

From inside the house, a desperate scream pierced the air.

"Esmael! Help me! Esmael!"

It was his mother's voice. She was trapped inside.

Esmael winced, tears streaming down his face as he tried to stand, but his legs buckled. "I can't! I—I don't know what to do!" he wailed, grasping his head.

Morvane froze, his mind racing. His heart pounded as memories of his grandmother's story from the night before came flooding to his mind.

"Sometimes, power isn't about what you awaken with—it's about what you choose to do in the moment that matters most."

Those words ignited something within him. Without hesitation, Morvane sprang into action. He ran toward the burning house, the heat searing his skin as he approached.

"Morvane! Stop! It's too dangerous!" Luna screamed, but he didn't listen.

This was his moment, power or not. And he wasn't going to let Esmael or anyone else lose what mattered to them.

As Morvane approached the burning door, his hand reached out to push it open, a familiar voice called out behind him.

"Morvaneee!"

He turned to face his grandmother running toward him, flanked by three manipulators of water. Each one raised their hands, calling on streams of water from nothing. Moving in sync with each other, they shot their water at the burning house and the flames spluttered, hissing beneath their control.

Within minutes, the fire was under control, and the house, though badly damaged, was no longer on fire. The crowd breathed a collective sigh of relief as Esmael's mother was carried out by one of the villagers. Her face was streaked with soot, and her arms were burned, but she was alive.

Luna and Morvane's grandmother moved quickly into action, their healing magic glowing softly as they worked to ease her pain and heal the burns.

Through watery eyes, Esmael gazed through the scene kneeling in the ground. His mother was safe but crushed by the weight of his crime.

Morvane walked up to him; his face anger and determination showed, standing straight and looking down at his friend.

"Esmael, stand up," he said to him.

He did not respond; instead, he shook his head in shame.

"Stand up and look at what you've done!" Morvane's voice was firm, cutting through the noise around them. "This… This is the result of your power. You can't just wield it without thinking! You have to be more responsible!"

Esmael sobbed, his shoulders shaking as he forced himself to his feet. He looked around—the scorched house, the water manipulators, his injured mother—and his tears fell harder.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I'm so sorry, Morvane. I didn't mean for this to happen."

Esmael turned to his mother, who was sitting nearby, her burns almost healed by Luna and Morvane's grandmother. He stumbled toward her and knelt, clutching her hand. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I'll do better. I promise."

His mother reached out, despite her weakness, and placed a hand on his head. "You have a gift, Esmael," she said softly. "But you need to learn to control it. Promise me you will."

"I promise," Esmael choked out, tears streaming down his face.

Morvane reached out to touch Esmael's shoulder. "You can screw up, but you have to learn from it. Power is not just what you can do-it's what you choose to do with it."

Esmael hugged Morvane tight, his sobs muffled against his friend's shoulder. "Thank you, Morvane. Thank you.

The villagers helped clean up the mess, and Esmael, though shaken, decided to think that he will master his power and never let his emotions cause harm again.

As the chaos began to subside and the crowd began to disperse, Esmael's mother, her voice weak but urgent, called out, "Wait… what about Chico?"

Morvane turned to her, puzzled. "Chico? Who's Chico?

Tears welled up in her eyes as she answered, "The dog… Esmael's dog. He was inside the house."

A heavy silence fell over the group. One of the water manipulators, who had been checking the wreckage, emerged moments later, carrying the lifeless body of a small, charred dog in his arms. It was heart wrenching.

Esmael collapsed to his knees, fresh tears streaming down his face. "Chico… I'm so sorry… I'm so, so sorry…" he sobbed, his grief spilling out in broken words.

No one spoke for a long time. The weight of the tragedy hung in the air like a dark cloud.

The villagers assisted in digging a shallow grave close to the edge of Esmael's home. Under the moonlight, with heavy hearts, they buried Chico. Esmael, Luna, and Morvane stood by the grave, their faces somber, as they bid farewell to the loyal companion of their friend.

The night deepened, and eventually, the three friends parted ways, each carrying the burden of the day's events in their hearts.

When Morvane returned home, his grandmother was already asleep. He sat on his bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. If I had powers… if I was the one with the mark… I'd be responsible. I'd make sure nothing like this ever happened.

These thoughts followed him as he drifted off to sleep.

As the night grew darker, Morvane woke up with an immediate urge to pee. Groggily, he rose, staggered to the bathroom, rubbing his eyes along the way.

He entered the dimly lit room and froze. There, in front of him, was a dog—a small, shadowy figure with piercing, glowing eyes staring right at him.

Morvane blinked hard and rubbed his eyes. When he looked again, the dog was gone, as if it had never been there.

His heart pounded in his chest. He stood there for a moment, unsure if he had imagined it or if it was something more. Shaking his head, he returned to his bed, his thoughts now more restless than ever.

Little did he know that this was just the start of something much bigger than what he could think of.