The cobblestone streets of Rostal were slick with the grime of countless days, their surfaces worn smooth by the passage of feet and carts alike. The town was a patchwork quilt of lives stitched together by necessity rather than choice. It wasn’t a place for the faint-hearted; survival here demanded cunning, resilience, and an unyielding will to endure. Baku knew this better than most. At twelve years old, he had already lived more lifetimes than many adults in the richer quarters of the city.
Baku darted through the narrow alleys, his bare feet slapping against the cold stones as he weaved past barrels, crates, and piles of discarded refuse. His thin frame allowed him to slip through spaces that would have trapped larger children, and his sharp eyes scanned every shadow for signs of danger—or opportunity. Behind him, the shouts of two burly boys echoed, their heavy boots thudding ominously on the ground. They weren’t fast, but they were relentless, driven by greed or malice, perhaps both.
"Get back here, street rat!" one of them bellowed, his voice thick with anger.
Baku didn’t look back. He couldn’t afford to. Instead, he focused on the twists and turns ahead, memorizing each corner, each shortcut, like a map etched into his mind. The alleyways of Rostal were his domain, his sanctuary, and his weapon. He knew where the dead ends lay, where the loose bricks could be kicked out to create makeshift traps, and where the merchants left their goods unguarded just long enough for a quick hand to snatch something valuable.
He skidded around a corner, narrowly avoiding a pile of rotting vegetables, and spotted his chance—a rickety ladder propped against the side of a crumbling building. Without hesitation, he scaled it, his fingers gripping the splintered wood with practiced ease. Reaching the rooftop, he crouched low, catching his breath as he watched his pursuers thunder below, cursing and searching in vain.
For a moment, Baku allowed himself to relax, leaning back against the rough stone wall. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his heart pounding like a drum in his ears. Sweat trickled down his brow, mixing with the dirt that seemed permanently embedded in his skin. But despite the exhaustion, there was a spark of triumph in his eyes. Another day survived. Another victory won.
Rostal was a sprawling town divided sharply between the haves and the have-nots. In the northern districts, grand mansions stood proudly behind iron gates, their windows gleaming with polished glass. Merchants and nobles strolled along paved roads, their fine clothes shielding them from the harshness of the world. But in the southern reaches, where Baku called home, poverty reigned supreme. Here, the buildings leaned precariously, their walls patched with mismatched bricks and plaster. The air smelled of smoke and decay, and the streets buzzed with the sounds of shouting vendors, barking dogs, and the occasional clash of steel as rival gangs settled scores.
To survive in such a place required more than brute strength. It demanded wit, adaptability, and an instinct for trouble before it found you. Baku had learned these lessons early, often the hard way. He scavenged scraps from market stalls when no one was looking, bartered stolen trinkets for food at the blacksmith’s forge, and even begged when all else failed. Over time, he’d built a reputation among the other street kids—a mix of respect and wariness. Some admired his resourcefulness, while others envied his knack for staying one step ahead.
But life wasn’t just about survival. There were moments of beauty too, fleeting glimpses of something greater hidden beneath the grime. On clear nights, Baku would climb to the rooftops and gaze up at the stars, their brilliance untouched by the filth below. He imagined what it might be like to live beyond the confines of Rostal, to see the vast mountains he’d heard travelers speak of, or the shimmering seas that stretched endlessly toward the horizon. These dreams kept him going, fueling a quiet hope that someday, things would change.
It started with whispers. At first, Baku paid little attention. To him, the talk of Awakenings and Rankers seemed like stories told to keep children entertained during long winter nights. But as the days passed, the whispers grew louder, spreading through the town like wildfire. Even the toughest street kids spoke of it with reverence, their voices tinged with awe and envy.
"The ceremony is coming," one boy named Joren said one evening, his tone conspiratorial. "They say anyone can attend—anyone who hasn’t yet awakened their powers."
Baku raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "And why would I care? Powers don’t put food on my table."
Joren grinned, showing teeth stained yellow from chewing on herbs. "Maybe not, but they could get you out of this dump. You’ve seen the Rankers, haven’t you? They’re rich, powerful… untouchable. If you awaken, you could be like them."
The idea lingered in Baku’s mind long after the conversation ended. He tried to dismiss it, telling himself that such dreams were foolish, distractions from the real challenges of survival. Yet deep down, a small part of him wondered if there was truth to Joren’s words. Could he really leave the streets behind? Was there more to him than just a scrawny kid scraping by?
When the official announcement came, Baku decided to go. Not because he believed in the promise of power, but because curiosity gnawed at him, refusing to let go. Besides, the ceremony was being held in the central square, a rare opportunity to explore parts of the town he rarely ventured into. And who knew? Maybe he’d find something useful while he was there.
On the morning of the ceremony, Baku arrived at the square just as the sun began to rise, its golden rays casting long shadows across the ancient stone platform at its center. The crowd was already gathering, a sea of faces ranging from nervous children to curious onlookers. Elders in flowing robes moved among them, their expressions stern yet compassionate, guiding the young participants to their places.
Baku felt out of place among the neatly dressed children, his tattered clothes and unwashed appearance drawing stares from some of the wealthier attendees. He ignored them, keeping his head down and blending into the background as best he could. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t the scrappy street rat everyone expected him to be. He was simply another child waiting to see if fate had anything special in store.
A man in regal robes denoting him as the leader of the council, stepped forward, his presence commanding silence. His robes shimmered in the sunlight, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and swirl like living things. His voice carried across the square, resonating with authority.
"Everyone. It is I, Elder Turok, leader of the Council. Today, we gather to witness the next generation of Awakeners," he began. "Each of you carries within you a potential far greater than you know. Today, that potential will be realized."
As the elder spoke, Baku tuned him out, his thoughts drifting to the rumors he’d heard. Some said the ceremony involved drinking a mysterious elixir, while others claimed it required facing a trial of sorts. Whatever it was, Baku resolved to approach it with caution. He wasn’t about to let his guard down—not even for a chance at power.
When the elders finally distributed the vials of shimmering silver liquid, Baku hesitated. Unlike the other children, who drank without question, he studied the contents carefully, searching for any sign of deception. It looked harmless enough, but appearances could be deceiving. Still, he couldn’t back out now. Taking a deep breath, he lifted the vial to his lips and swallowed.
At first, nothing happened. Then, a warmth spread through his body, followed by a burning sensation that left him gasping for air. His vision blurred, and the world around him dissolved into darkness.
When Baku opened his eyes, he found himself standing in a desolate landscape unlike anything he’d ever seen. The sky above swirled with dark clouds, crackling with energy, while twisted black trees clawed at the heavens. The air was heavy, oppressive, filled with a sense of ancient power.
Welcome, a voice echoed in his mind, deep and resonant.
Baku spun around, searching for the source of the voice. But there was no one there—only the endless expanse of this strange realm.
"You’re in Prima," the voice continued. "This is the world within you, Baku."
Prima. The word sent shivers down his spine. He remembered hearing tales of it, whispered secrets passed between older street kids late at night. Few dared to believe they were true, but now, staring at the surreal landscape around him, Baku knew otherwise.
Love what you're reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.
"This isn’t real," he muttered, though his voice wavered with uncertainty.
"It is very real," the voice replied. "And it holds the key to your destiny."
Before Baku could respond, movement caught his eye. From the shadows emerged a creature unlike any he’d ever encountered—a massive beast with fur like molten gold and eyes that burned with intelligence. It regarded him silently, its presence both intimidating and oddly comforting.
"What is this place?" Baku asked, addressing the voice rather than the beast.
"This is your Prima Realm," the voice explained. "Here lies the source of your power. To master it, you must face its challenges and unlock its secrets."
As the words faded, the ground beneath Baku trembled, and the landscape shifted, revealing new dangers and opportunities. For the first time in his life, Baku felt truly alone—and yet, inexplicably, he also felt a flicker of hope.
Back in the real world, the crowd erupted into murmurs as Baku collapsed onto the ceremonial platform. The elders exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions a mixture of awe and concern. Most Awakenings were straightforward—an ability manifested, and the child returned to consciousness almost immediately. But Baku’s awakening was different. His connection to Prima ran deeper, more complex, hinting at a power that defied easy categorization.
When Baku finally stirred, he sat up slowly, his head throbbing with the remnants of the vision. Around him, the other children stared, their faces a mix of admiration and fear. Some whispered amongst themselves, pointing at him and exchanging knowing looks. Others turned away, unable to meet his gaze.
Elder Turok approached him, his expression unreadable. "You have entered Prima, Baku. This is a rare gift, one that few possess. But with great power comes great responsibility. Are you prepared for what lies ahead?"
Baku didn’t answer right away. His mind was still reeling from the experience, the vivid images of the desolate realm lingering in his thoughts. He thought of the golden beast, its piercing gaze seared into his memory. What did it mean? And why had he been chosen to bear this burden?
"I don’t know," he admitted finally, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I’ll figure it out."
The elder nodded approvingly. "Good. Your journey has only just begun."
As the ceremony concluded, Baku wandered away from the square, lost in thought. The streets of Rostal seemed different now, their familiar sights and sounds dulled by the weight of newfound knowledge. He glanced at the rooftops, imagining the stars shining brightly above, their light undiminished by the grime of the town below.
Perhaps, he thought, there was more to this world than he had ever imagined. Perhaps, there was more to himself as well.
This was his beginning. And it was only the start.
---
Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, Baku found himself sitting on the edge of a rooftop overlooking the southern district of Rostal. The air was cooler now, carrying with it the faint scent of cooking fires and damp earth. Below, the streets teemed with activity: merchants packing up their stalls, children chasing each other through the alleys, and stray dogs rummaging through trash heaps. Life went on as it always did, oblivious to the monumental shift that had occurred within him earlier that day.
Baku's fingers traced the rough surface of the rooftop, his mind replaying the events of the Awakening Ceremony over and over again. He could still feel the burn of the elixir as it coursed through his veins, the disorienting plunge into darkness, and then... the overwhelming vastness of Prima. It was as though he had been thrust into another dimension entirely, one that existed parallel to the physical world yet remained hidden from ordinary perception. The voice that had greeted him—it had sounded ancient, wise, and somehow familiar, as if it had been waiting for him all along. And the golden beast... its presence had been both terrifying and reassuring, a paradox that left him unsettled yet strangely comforted.
He wondered what it all meant. Was Prima truly a part of him, or was it something external that he had merely tapped into? The elders had spoken of latent abilities lying dormant within every individual, waiting to be awakened. But Baku's experience felt different, more profound. It wasn't just an ability—it was an entire world, a realm brimming with untapped potential and lurking dangers. He couldn't shake the feeling that Prima held secrets far greater than he could comprehend, secrets that might hold the key to understanding not only himself but also the broader mysteries of Atheris.
A soft breeze ruffled his hair, pulling him momentarily from his thoughts. He glanced down at his hands, calloused and dirty from years of scavenging and climbing. They were the hands of a survivor, hardened by necessity and shaped by circumstance. Yet now, they felt inadequate, as though they belonged to someone else. How could these same hands wield the kind of power he had glimpsed in Prima? The disparity between his current reality and the possibilities hinted at by his Awakening was staggering.
His stomach growled, reminding him of the practicalities of life. No matter how extraordinary his newfound connection to Prima might be, he still needed food to survive. Pushing himself to his feet, Baku descended the ladder and made his way toward the marketplace. By this hour, most vendors had packed up their goods, leaving behind scraps and leftovers that he could scavenge. As he moved through the shadows, his movements were deliberate and silent, honed by years of practice. He paused near a fruit stall, eyeing a half-eaten apple lying forgotten on the ground. With a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, he snatched it up and bit into it, savoring the sweetness despite its bruised exterior.
As he ate, his thoughts drifted back to Elder Turok's words. "With great power comes great responsibility." The phrase echoed in his mind, heavy with implication. Responsibility—for what? To whom? Baku had spent his entire life looking out for himself, navigating the treacherous waters of survival without relying on anyone else. The idea of taking on a greater purpose, of being accountable to forces beyond his control, was daunting. Yet, there was also a strange allure to it, a sense that he might finally belong to something larger than himself.
He finished the apple and tossed the core aside, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The streets were quieter now, the bustle of daytime giving way to the subdued hum of nighttime activity. Lanterns flickered in doorways, casting pools of warm light onto the cobblestones. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked, its sound echoing off the walls of nearby buildings. Baku wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly aware of how exposed he felt. For the first time in his life, he realized that his anonymity—the invisibility that had protected him for so long—might no longer serve him. People had seen him today, witnessed his Awakening, and whispered about it. Whether he liked it or not, he was no longer just another faceless street kid.
The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He had always prided himself on his ability to blend into the background, to move unseen and unnoticed. But now, he was marked, singled out by a power he barely understood. What would happen when others discovered the full extent of his connection to Prima? Would they fear him? Respect him? Or worse—exploit him?
A sudden noise startled him, snapping him out of his reverie. He turned sharply, his heart racing, only to see a pair of glowing eyes peering at him from the shadows of an alleyway. A stray cat emerged cautiously, its sleek black fur glistening in the dim light. It regarded him curiously for a moment before padding away, disappearing into the darkness. Baku exhaled slowly, chiding himself for being so jumpy. The streets of Rostal were dangerous, yes, but paranoia wouldn’t help him survive. He needed to stay sharp, focused.
Resuming his walk, Baku eventually found himself at the edge of the southern district, where the buildings gave way to open fields leading toward the outskirts of town. The air here was fresher, less tainted by the smells of industry and waste. He climbed atop a low stone wall and sat down, gazing out at the horizon. The stars were beginning to appear, dotting the sky like scattered diamonds. He remembered the nights he used to spend on the rooftops, dreaming of distant lands and adventures beyond the confines of Rostal. Those dreams had always felt like fantasies, unreachable aspirations born of desperation and longing. But now, with the weight of Prima pressing upon him, those dreams seemed closer than ever.
Could he really leave this place behind? Could he rise above the filth and despair of the streets, carve out a new path for himself? The questions swirled in his mind, unanswered and insistent. For all the uncertainty, one thing was clear: his life would never be the same again. Whether he embraced it or resisted it, the power of Prima had chosen him, and it would demand everything he had to give.
Baku clenched his fists, determination hardening in his chest. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it head-on. He had survived the streets of Rostal; surely, he could survive whatever challenges Prima threw his way. After all, survival was what he did best.
This was his beginning. And it was only the start.
---
By the time Baku returned to his usual haunt—a cramped alcove tucked beneath a crumbling staircase—he was exhausted, both physically and mentally. The events of the day weighed heavily on him, and the prospect of sleep was both inviting and elusive. He curled up in the corner, wrapping his thin cloak around himself for warmth, and closed his eyes. Sleep came slowly, interrupted by fragments of dreams that felt disturbingly real.
In his dream, he stood once again in the desolate landscape of Prima, the golden beast watching him intently. Its eyes glowed brighter this time, and its massive form seemed to pulse with energy. The voice returned, softer now, almost gentle.
"You are stronger than you know, Baku," it said. "But strength alone will not be enough. Trust yourself, and trust those who choose to stand beside you."
Before Baku could respond, the scene shifted. He was no longer in Prima but in a bustling city unlike any he had ever seen. Towering spires of glass and metal reached toward the sky, and people moved about with purpose, their clothing sleek and futuristic. In the distance, a colossal structure loomed, its design both alien and familiar. It radiated power, a dark and foreboding presence that sent a chill down his spine.
Then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the vision faded, leaving Baku gasping awake in the darkness. His heart pounded wildly, and his body was drenched in sweat. The dream lingered in his mind, vivid and unsettling. What did it mean? Was it a glimpse of the future, or merely his subconscious processing the day's events?
He shook his head, trying to dispel the unease that clung to him like a second skin. Whatever the dream signified, it was clear that his journey was only beginning. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new questions, and perhaps even answers. For now, all he could do was rest and prepare for what lay ahead.
This was his beginning. And it was only the start.
Is the chapter too short?
