Many years had passed since the day the sea stood taller than mountains.

The world called it ‘The First Wave’. They said it never truly ended. 

The hum of the radio filled the house, static buzzing between the words of a tired news anchor: 

“decades since the first wave… coastal sectors remain uninhabitable… restoration crews have yet to reach—” The words blurred into background noise as a hand reached out from beneath a blanket and slammed the radio off.

“Yeah, yeah… same story every time," a sleepy voice muttered.

“Rayan! Don’t tell me you’re still in bed!” His mother’s voice erupted from somewhere in the kitchen, half laughter, half fury, the kind that made the walls feel alive. 

Rayan, thirteen years of age, jolted upright, nearly tripping over his blanket. “I was just about to get up!” he shouted back.

“‘Was about to’ doesn’t make toast appear!” 

He stumbled out of his room, passing the familiar sight of his small but lively home. 

One of his adopted brothers, Zeren, sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through a thick manual labeled “Machinery & Field Systems: 2nd Edition.” 

“Morning, engineer,” Rayan teased. “Morning, slacker,” Zeren replied without looking up.

In the corner, his other foster brother, Hanno, was mid-workout, sweat dripping, push-ups echoing softly against the floorboards. 

“Morning, muscle-head,” Rayan said. “Morning, lazy bones,” the brother grunted. 

Rayan smirked. “Wow, this family’s full of love.” His mother chuckled as she set a plate down. 

“Eat, Rayan. You’re going to be late again.” He sat at the table, steam rising from the scrambled eggs. 

Outside, birds chirped, and sunlight pooled over the wooden floor. For a moment, the world was perfect. 

School was less so.  

The classroom buzzed faintly under the hum of ceiling fans. 

Mr. Halden, the philosophy instructor, stood by the board, gesturing with his pen like a conductor. 

“Human reason,” he began, “is the highest gift ever granted to man. It is through reason that we survive chaos. Alone, an individual’s mind is clouded by instinct, but together, guided by those who have studied longer, thought deeper, we achieve harmony.”

He paused to let his words settle, scanning the rows of half-awake students.

Most students nodded; others just stared blankly. The teacher, oblivious, continued his sermon about unity and intellect.

Rayan, absolutely bored, leaned back in his chair. He sighed quietly. ‘‘Same speech every year.’’ I just want something different. he thought. 

Something real. Not another test. Not another lecture about surviving. There’s got to be more to life than this, he thought. More than questions without meaning. More than just existing.

He leaned his cheek against his palm, staring out the window as the teacher droned on. 

A gust of wind bent the trees outside, the sky breaking open to reveal a thin streak of sunlight. 

The sunlight crept across the classroom floor, spilling over notebooks and polished shoes. It climbed the wall, brushed past the ticking clock, and reached the window, stretching beyond it. 

It slipped through the clouds, gliding over rooftops, over rivers, over the scarred remains of a once-flourishing village still whispered about in news reports. 

The same light kept moving, endless, unbroken, until it touched the wild edges of Eldermist Woods. There, it filtered through the high branches, warm and golden, scattering over leaves and fur. A howl echoed. 

There. Amidst the wilderness. A boy.

The boy burst from the bushes, bare feet striking damp soil, three wolves racing beside him. 

His breath came sharp, his eyes wild with focus.  Ahead, a deer darted between the trees. Swift. Graceful. Desperate. 

The wolves spread out, circling instinctively. The boy lunged left, cutting through ferns, driving the deer towards his wolf brothers. The deer was caught.

Teeth. Claws. A cry that shattered the forest silence. The chase ended. 

He crouched beside the fallen creature, running a hand over its skin. 

Rough, warm, still trembling. 

They began to feed, and he joined them, tearing into the meat with the same hunger. But halfway through, he stopped. Blood streaked his face; his reflection shimmered faintly in a puddle beside him. Light poured through the canopy above, dust particles drifting in the air. 

For a heartbeat, everything stood still. The forest, the wind, even his pulse. He didn’t know why, but something stirred in him, a faint but heavy feeling. 

Is this it? he wondered. Just running… eating… surviving?

A bark from his wolf brothers broke the trance. Rai blinked, shook his head, yet haunted by a hunger for something he couldn’t name.