I turned eight. Another year had passed, though I barely noticed its coming or going. Life felt like a blur—monotonous, heavy, and empty. The vibrant spark that once filled my world had faded.

  My parents were no longer the cheerful, loving figures they had once been, and the distance between us seemed to grow with each passing day. Their smiles felt forced, their laughter absent. They cared for me still—fed me, clothed me—but the warmth was gone, replaced by a quiet, unspoken disappointment.

  The villagers knew the truth now. They whispered about me behind my back, their words like phantom daggers. I had no Factor, and that made me different. I felt their eyes on me whenever I walked through the village, their gazes filled with pity or disdain. Some were polite enough to feign kindness, offering stiff smiles and murmured greetings, but I could see the discomfort in their faces. Others weren’t so subtle, their glances lingering just long enough to sting.

  I asked myself why a million times. Why me? Why had my Factor not appeared? Why had the fever come and gone, leaving me with nothing but shattered hopes? I tried to make sense of it, but the answers eluded me. Maybe I’d been too demanding, and the Factor had... disappeared? Was that even possible?

  Maybe I wasn’t alone—perhaps others in the world had been born without Factors, a rare genetic anomaly. An inherited disease, perhaps? But I had heard no whispers of such a condition in my family’s history. And now that I thought about it, my parents never spoke of their families at all. Was I the result of an affair? The thought gnawed at me, unwelcome but persistent. I was becoming paranoid, my mind spiraling into darker and darker corners. I tried to shake it off, but the questions lingered, unanswered and unanswerable.

  Today, I wandered the village as I often did, my hands tucked into my pockets and my head low. The usual stares followed me, and I responded with the same forced smiles and empty greetings. I moved on autopilot, my thoughts elsewhere, until I heard them—the boys who always picked on me.

  They were clustered near the well, laughing loudly, their voices carrying easily over the quiet buzz of the village square. There were more of them this time, a larger group than usual, their ringleader—Cassian—smirking as he leaned against the stonework.

  “Hey, look who it is,” Cassian called out, his voice dripping with mockery. “The Factorless wonder.”

  I ignored him and kept walking, my fists tightening in my pockets. But they weren’t done.

  “Where’s your Factor, Ronan?” another boy jeered. “Did it run away because it didn’t like you?”

  “Maybe he’s cursed,” a third boy added, grinning. “Or maybe his parents didn’t pray hard enough. Isn’t that right, Ronan?”

  Their laughter rang in my ears, each word striking like a hammer. I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to keep moving, but the pressure inside me was building, a storm that I couldn’t contain.

  “Hey, don’t ignore us!” Cassian shouted. He stepped in front of me, blocking my path, his grin widening. “What’s wrong? Too ashamed to talk to us? Or maybe you’re just scared.”

  I stopped. The weight of their words, their laughter, the constant stares of the village—it all came crashing down. My heart pounded in my chest, and my breathing quickened. The storm inside me reached its breaking point. Without thinking, I raised my hand and focused my energy. The words of the spell came unbidden, rolling off my tongue with ease born of practice.

  “[Stone Rain].”

  The air around us shifted, a ripple of magic surging outward. The ground beneath my feet trembled, and a moment later, sharp stones rained down from the sky, pelting the boys with a relentless barrage. They shouted in panic, their taunts turning to cries of pain as they scrambled for cover.

  Cassian fell to the ground, clutching his arm as blood seeped through his fingers. The others scattered, some shielding their heads, others running as fast as their legs could carry them. The spell ended as quickly as it had begun, leaving a circle of scattered stones and injured boys in its wake. Silence followed, broken only by the sound of Cassian’s ragged breathing. He glared up at me, his face twisted with a mix of anger and fear.

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  “You... you’re insane!” he spat, struggling to his feet. “You could’ve killed us!”

  I said nothing, my chest heaving as the adrenaline coursed through me. Part of me felt guilty, horrified at what I’d done. But another part felt a grim satisfaction. For once, they had felt a fraction of the pain they had caused me.

  The villagers had seen everything. They emerged from their homes and stalls, their faces pale and stricken. Whispers spread like wildfire, and I could feel their judgment bearing down on me, heavier than ever.

  “Ronan!” My father’s voice cut through the crowd. He pushed his way forward, his face a mask of fury. “What have you done?”

  I couldn’t find the words to answer him. I just stood there, trembling, the weight of my actions finally sinking in. My father grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the scene. “Home. Now.”

  As he dragged me through the streets, I caught a glimpse of my mother standing in the doorway of our house, her face pale and unreadable. Juliet peeked out from behind her skirts, her wide eyes filled with confusion.

  Inside, my father rounded on me, his anger spilling over. “What were you thinking?” he demanded. “Attacking those boys like that? You could have seriously hurt them—or worse!”

  “They deserved it,” I said quietly, my voice trembling. “They’ve been tormenting me for months. I just... I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  “That doesn’t make it right!” my father shouted. “Do you think this is going to make things better? Do you think people will respect you now? All you’ve done is prove them right—that you’re unstable, dangerous!”

  I flinched at his words, tears stinging my eyes. “I just wanted them to stop,” I whispered.

  My father sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Ronan, you can’t solve everything with violence. You need to learn control.”

  Control. The word echoed in my mind, bitter and hollow. Control was what I lacked—or perhaps what I had too much of. I didn’t know anymore.

  The sound of rain began softly, pattering against the roof and windows, but it grew steadily louder as the storm outside deepened. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low and ominous growl that seemed to mirror the tension inside the house.

  “You don’t understand!” I shouted, my voice cracking. The anger and frustration surged in me like a rising tide. “You have no idea what it’s like! They never stop—they won’t ever stop! I just wanted—”

  “To hurt them?” my father interrupted, his face stern and his tone sharp. “You’re better than that, Ronan! You have to be better than that!”

  “I didn’t ask to be ‘better’!” I shot back, tears blurring my vision. “I didn’t ask for any of this! Not for the Factor, not for the stares, not for any of it! Do you even know how it feels to have everyone look at you like you’re broken?!”

  My father’s expression softened for a moment, but his jaw tightened again. “Ronan, listen to me—”

  “No! You listen!” I yelled, stepping forward, my fists clenched at my sides. “I didn’t choose to be like this! You think I don’t want control? That I don’t want to fix it? I didn’t—”

  Suddenly, a sharp pain lanced through my chest. I froze mid-sentence, clutching at my ribs as the world around me spun. The voices, the rain, even the thunder seemed to dull, their edges muffled like sound heard through water.

  “Ronan?” my father’s voice cut through, louder now, his tone laced with alarm.

  The pain intensified, spreading like fire through my chest and down my arms. I stumbled backward, my knees buckling as my breath came in short, ragged gasps. My father’s face blurred before me, his features dissolving into a shifting haze.

  “Ronan!” he shouted again, stepping toward me. His hands gripped my shoulders, steadying me, but I barely felt them.

  I tried to speak, to explain, but the words wouldn’t come. My legs gave way, and I collapsed to my knees. The pain was unbearable now, a crushing, suffocating weight that squeezed the air from my lungs.

  “Ronan!” my mother’s voice joined his, sharp with panic as she rushed into the room. Juliet’s cries echoed faintly behind her, muffled by the storm raging inside me.

  I saw their faces—my father’s wide with fear, my mother’s pale and tear-streaked—hovering above me as the edges of my vision darkened. I tried to reach for them, but my limbs felt heavy, unresponsive.

  And then... nothing.

  The pain faded, replaced by a chilling emptiness. The world around me slipped away, swallowed by a void as deep and black as the night sky. My parents’ voices became distant, like whispers in a dream, until they vanished altogether.