8th Rotation of the Vore Cycle, 3448 A.E.
The Grays

The smell was the first thing that woke Kael.

It drifted through the apartment like a siren call—salty, savory, rich in a way that was completely alien and deeply enticing. Kael’s eyes cracked open, the soft light of morning spilling in through the narrow window. The sheets beneath him were clean and warm, and for a long moment, he didn’t remember where he was.

Then a small foot kicked him in the shin.

Sera was curled beside him, half-buried under the blankets, her tiny frame shaking slightly with each breath. Kael blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up, rubbing his face with one hand.

“Sera,” he said softly, nudging her shoulder. “Hey. You’re not supposed to be in here.”

She stirred, eyes fluttering open. “I couldn’t sleep,” she mumbled, her voice scratchy. “The bed was too big… and cold. I kept thinking something was gonna grab me.”

Kael sighed, brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. “You’re safe now. Nothing’s gonna grab you here.”

She nestled closer. “But I always sleep with you or Mom…”

“I know,” Kael said, voice gentle but firm. “But you’re gonna have to learn how to sleep by yourself, soon. You’re not a baby anymore. You’re getting older—one day you’ll be a woman. And sleeping beside a man, even if he’s your brother... people will say things.”

Sera looked confused. “But you’re Kael.”

He gave a wry smile. “Still. It’s not about me. It’s about what’s proper now that we’re not living in a single-room shack.”

She pouted, but didn’t argue. “Okay… I’ll try.”

The scent wafted again—stronger this time. Kael’s stomach growled.

“What is that smell?” he asked, sliding off the bed and grabbing a shirt.

Sera followed him barefoot across the hall. They stepped into the kitchen together, blinking in the bright light. Elira stood at the stove in a soft green robe, a spatula in hand and steam curling up from a wide pan.

The table was already set with plates of steaming eggs, toasted bread, and thick, glistening strips of something golden-brown and sizzling.

“Good morning,” she said with a smile that hadn’t graced her lips in years. “You’re just in time.”

Kael sniffed the air again. “What is that?”

“Bacon,” Elira said with a twinkle in her eye. “Real pig belly, cured and fried. Used to be our morning treat when your father and I lived in Grayridge Heights. You were too young to remember.”

Sera gasped. “It smells amazing.”

Elira smirked. “Then go wash your face and brush those teeth before you eat, both of you. We’re civilized now, remember?”

Kael rolled his eyes but obeyed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And after breakfast, too,” Elira added. “And when you come back from outside today, you both take showers before you sit on couches or touch your beds. We have furniture now. Clean ones. New life means new habits.”

Sera groaned, dragging her feet down the hall. Kael followed her, smiling faintly to himself.

By the time they returned, the bacon had been joined by a second batch of eggs and Elira had made something she called “tea,” sweetened with wildleaf honey and steeped in spiced water.

They ate together for the first time in their new home, laughter and warmth filling the small kitchen. Kael watched Elira closely—the way her skin had color again, how she held herself straighter, stronger, as if she were slowly becoming the woman she used to be. Even Sera seemed to glow a little brighter, like a flower finally getting sunlight.

After brushing their teeth again and dressing, they stepped out into the crisp morning light of the Grays. The street bustled with life—bakeries opening, vendors shouting, children in clean uniforms racing down walkways.

Their destination was only a few blocks away: the local charter school headquarters, tucked into a municipal complex near the park. Today was for Sera—to begin giving her the education she never had a chance to receive.

And Kael… Kael had his own questions to answer.

****

The Ashport Outer District Nine Charter School Center was an orderly compound of stone and smoothcrete, trimmed in slate tiles and cleanly swept. It stood nestled behind a manicured plaza where city trees bent gently in the breeze and solar lanterns flickered with quiet dignity. Nothing like Brinewatch’s crumbling learning hall with its warped chalkboards and patched floorboards.

Kael had seen buildings like this in government broadcasts, but it felt surreal standing at its wide double doors, holding Sera’s hand as she fidgeted with her dress hem.

A receptionist in a slate-gray blouse greeted them at a glass-paned front desk. “Welcome. Registration, testing, or appointment?”

“Registration and placement testing for my daughter,” Elira said with quiet authority, guiding Sera forward.

“Name?”

“Sera Voren.”

Kael gave Sera’s shoulder a light squeeze. “You’ll do great.”

Sera didn’t answer, but she nodded, biting her lip. Elira handed her the required paperwork and leaned in to speak with the staff. Kael turned toward the curved hallway branching to the right.

“I’m going to the library,” he murmured. “I’ll meet you after the test.”

Elira nodded without looking up.

The District Nine Civic Library was only two buildings away—wide and domed, with tall glass walls framed by climbing ivy. Inside, it smelled of ancient paper and something floral from the planters between shelves. Overhead, automated glowlights adjusted their hue and brightness based on reader presence.

Kael found a kiosk near the entrance and searched for terms he'd written down from memory:

• “XXX-rank”

• “Trait”

• “Pocket dimension”

• “Prana”

• “Aura”

• “Force”

• “Ki”

• “Chakra”

His ArkSeal synced with the terminal, opening a private reading slate. Several books and encyclopedias flickered into view. He tapped open the entries and dove in.

Trait entries were all over the place: personality traits, trait narcissism, genetic traits, and on and on and on. 

“Trait Psychology and the Modern Mind.”
“Genetic Trait Variance Among Hybrids.”
“Trait Narcissism in Post-Awakening Adolescents.”
“Dominant and Recessive Personality Traits.”
“Architectural Aesthetics as a Trait of Urban Evolution.”

He scrolled. And scrolled.

None of this is what I meant…

He refined the search. "Trait" + Awakening + Lifeforce + Talent.

Another dump of clutter. Most of it was academic babble, wild conjecture, or decades-old psychology journals.

Just as he was about to give up, one tiny headline caught his eye—barely two paragraphs long, unverified, unattributed.

"Rumored Genetic Aberration in the Voren Family?"
A fringe theory spreading through the southern provinces of the United Federation of Dravara claims that the Voren Family—a former mid-ranking noble line from the Empire of Solara that is now one of the three highest ranking political families in the United Federation of Dravara—may possess a unique, unclassified phenomenon internally referred to as a "trait."

Unlike traditional talents, which are classified by external manifestation and lifeforce resonance at the age of 16, these so-called "traits" are said to reside entirely within the body and soul. The progenitor of the family, a man known only as High Anchor Voren, is rumored to have once said, “A talent is a flicker of flame gifted by the heavens. A trait is the forge we build ourselves.”

No visual or transcript evidence of this quote exists. The family has denied the terminology repeatedly. However, despite having a statistically lower prevalence of high-ranked talents than most noble or political families, the Voren Family has remained one of the most powerful political families in on the Valdoran continent for over a millennium due to a long history of producing individuals whose performance drastically exceed the expected ceiling of their talents' ranks.

Critics attribute this to genetics, grit, or strategy. Others whisper that the Vorens have uncovered a method of amplifying or rewiring talents from within—possibly creating a different system entirely.

As with all unverifiable claims, readers are advised to treat this with skepticism.

Kael stared at the words "Voren Family."

He read the entry again.

And again.

His jaw tightened.

Voren. That was his family name. His father’s name. The name he had tossed aside like filth the moment the man vanished and left them to rot in Brinewatch.

Kael had known nothing about the Vorens—only that they were relatively well-off, but still cut his mother off when she refused to "move on" after Tharan’s disappearance. She was pregnant with Sera at the time.

He hadn’t known they were a noble house.

He hadn’t known they were part of the Federation elite.

He hadn’t known people thought they might be cheating the talent system.

And if this "trait" is real…

It made him angry. Angry that they'd left his mother to suffer while hoarding power. Angry that he bore their blood but knew none of their truths. Angry that his father—who’d supposedly come from this—had vanished without a trace.

He clenched his fists and closed the article.

Later. He’d deal with that later.

Right now, he needed to find out what his "trait" really was.

And whether it was truly something his… or something theirs.

He continued his search with “XXX-rank talent,” this time using keyword extrapolation.

No results found.

Kael frowned. So either it’s so rare it’s not documented… or it’s not supposed to exist.

The term “pocket dimension” did exist—but in a theoretical context. Hyperspatial sub-realms. Space folded within space. Hypotheses grounded in early cosmic law studies and supported by warp gate experimentation. The most advanced societies—Solana, Halbaron, the Crimson Conclave—were rumored to use dimensional science to develop storage devices or hidden travel corridors. But nothing about creating a universe.

Kael tapped into books on energy types.

Mana was well-known. The primary magical energy. Atomic-level efficiency. Used in both spellcasting and industry.

Aura? No entries.

Prana? Vague mention in a translated Solani manuscript—life essence used by monks in the Eastline Mountains to regulate their body heat and strength. But nothing concrete.

Force and Ki brought up scientific articles about motion and energy conversion—but nothing mystical. “Force” was used in mechanical physics. “Ki” was noted as a cultural term in old mythos about inner strength, but not documented in scientific or talent theory circles.

Chakra finally brought something strange. A fragment from an ancient religion called the Core Path. It referenced “chakras” as spiritual vortexes of lifeforce along the body. But again—nothing credible. No experiments. No verified talent associations.

Kael leaned back in the chair, frustrated. The screen dimmed slightly.

He couldn’t understand the rest of the books. The one on alternate universes was filled with mathematical notation and theoretical frameworks that went completely over his head. He barely understood every fifth word.

Kael rubbed his temple. I need to get smarter. No, I need to increase my education. If I want to understand what the hell is happening to me… I need more than instincts and scraps. I need knowledge. Now that I have a regular gig, I can spend time learning what I need to know.

He was recognizing more and more that his XXX-rank trait was likely a weird type of talent, but he didn't know when or where it would drag him back to that place that almost killed him. He was determined to do whatever he could not to go back there blind and helpless again.

Kael was still brooding over a glossary of  dimensional theories when Elira found him.

“She’s placed,” she said simply, sitting beside him.

Kael straightened. “How’d she do?”

Elira sighed. “First grade.”

Kael blinked. “Wait—first?”

“She tested okay in letters and numbers, but her social development and general education are years behind. She was playing in slums and helping me boil roots while other kids were learning how to function in society.”

Kael stared at the screen, then turned it off.

“So we’ll catch her up.”

“I told the registrar I’d homeschool her,” Elira said. “At least for now. I want her to know she’s just behind—not broken.”

Kael nodded slowly.

“She was quiet at first,” Elira added. “But when she saw the other kids playing in the courtyard—she cried. Not because she was scared. But because she wanted that. She wants to learn.”

Kael stood. “Then we’ll make sure she does.”

They left the library hand in hand, stepping into the morning sun. Elira’s fingers tightened around his briefly. “Kael… thank you.”

He glanced down.

“For what?”

“For carrying us when I couldn’t. For giving Sera a chance I’d almost stopped believing in.”

Kael’s throat tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

Instead, he pulled up his ArkSeal and scheduled a stop at the educational supply center.