The wind moved like a whisper through the ruins — not howling, not screaming, but breathing. Stone arches stood crooked beneath a violet sky, and beneath them sat a boy.Not special. Not chosen.Just… still.
He didn't know his name. Not truly. The people in the village called him Karl. A quiet boy. Odd. A little too distant. The kind who watched birds take flight and never looked away.
But inside him, beneath the noise of names and roles, a voice had begun to stir.
"You are not what they see.You are a shard of something ancient.You are Raygon."
It wasn't loud. It wasn't even clear. It came like a memory wrapped in fog — a pull, not a command.Like the universe itself remembering a word it had once spoken, softly echoing through one soul who had been quiet long enough to hear it.
That morning, Kael had seen something strange:A star falling from the daylight sky —but instead of burning,it paused midair.It watched him back.
He blinked, and it vanished. But he knew. The world was calling him awake. That night, he sat by the ruins again. He didn't tell anyone. He never did. What would he say?
"I think I used to be someone who watched universes die"?"I think my real name isn't a name at all — but a frequency that sings through time"?
No. He stayed silent. Because he knew: Some awakenings must begin in solitude.
Then — footsteps.
He turned. A girl stood at the edge of the ruins. Not from the village. Wearing a black ribbon tied around her wrist. Eyes too sharp to be young. She looked at him the way the star did. Like she recognized him.
"You saw it, didn't you?" she said softly.
He didn't answer. But that was enough. She stepped closer and whispered:
"The others are awakening too.The Shards.You're not the only one."
And for the first time in his life, Kael felt the tremble of something ancient inside him. Not fear. Not confusion. Recognition.
Raygon's memory had begun to stir.
The first shard had awakened.And the watchers of existence were no longer alone.