Prologue

  The chamber had been sealed for centuries.

  Dust lay thick across the ancient floor, untouched by human footsteps. At the center of the chamber stood a stone pedestal, carved with symbols older than any language still spoken on Earth.

  And upon that pedestal rested a crystal.

  It pulsed faintly in the darkness, like a sleeping heart.

  A man stepped into the chamber.

  His footsteps echoed softly as he approached the pedestal. He wore dark gloves, and his eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction.

  “So this is where they hid you,” he murmured.

  The crystal glowed brighter as his hand reached toward it.

  For a moment, the room trembled. Ancient runes along the walls flickered with light, as if trying to warn him away.

  But the man only smiled.

  “I’ve searched for years,” he whispered. “And now… the first stone is mine.”

  His fingers closed around the crystal.

  The glow burst outward in a flash of shadowy light.

  Somewhere far away, vines rustled in the soil.

  Water rippled in distant oceans.

  Fire flickered in unseen places.

  The balance of the Gifted had shifted.

  The man looked down at the dark crystal in his hand.

  “One down,” he said quietly.

  “The rest will follow.”

  And somewhere in the world, five young Gifted had no idea that the war had already begun.

  Chapter I

  I was playing at the playground when they came.

  The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the sand and metal bars. The swing chains creaked softly in the breeze. For a moment, everything felt normal.

  Then I saw them.

  My deep brown eyes narrowed as the group stepped onto the playground. I pushed myself off the swing and stood up slowly. As I moved, my long blonde braid swung over my shoulder.

  Perce.

  And his gang.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  They were the school’s ultimate bullies. The bigger boys were mostly just muscle—loud, clumsy, and easy to read. But their leader, Perce, was different. He wasn’t the strongest, but he was sharp. Mean. The kind of person who enjoyed watching other people suffer.

  He smirked as he stepped forward.

  “Well, well,” he said, tilting his head slightly. “What are you doing now, Carina?”

  His eyes glinted.

  “Time you learned your lesson for stopping us from getting David.”

  My stomach tightened.

  Yesterday, one of Perce’s goons had tried to corner my little brother behind the school building. David was only nine. He was small, quiet, and way too nice for kids like them.

  When I saw what was happening, something inside me snapped.

  I had been so furious that I didn’t notice the plants around me reacting.

  Vines burst out of the soil.

  Thin green tendrils whipped through the air like angry snakes, striking the bullies’ legs and arms. They yelped and stumbled backward, tripping over each other as the plants lashed at them.

  They ran.

  Fast.

  I hadn’t even meant to do it.

  And that’s when I realized something was very wrong.

  Later that day, I told Mom everything.

  I expected her to laugh it off or say it was my imagination.

  But instead, she grew very quiet.

  “Come with me,” she said.

  She led me out into our backyard. The evening air was cool, and the garden smelled faintly of damp soil and flowers.

  Mom stepped onto a patch of grass and whispered a few strange words.

  The ground opened beneath us.

  I jumped back in shock as a hidden staircase appeared, descending deep into the earth.

  “Mom?” I said nervously.

  “Don’t worry,” she said gently. “It’s safe.”

  We walked down the staircase together. At the bottom was something I never expected to see beneath our house.

  A sleek, futuristic room.

  Glowing panels lined the walls. Strange devices hummed quietly. Screens flickered with lines of data and symbols I didn’t understand.

  My mouth fell open.

  “What… is this?” I asked.

  Mom gave a small smile.

  “I’ll explain soon.”

  And she did.

  “At the beginning of time,” Mom began, “a god sent ten of his most faithful subjects to Earth. They were scattered across the continents—one or two in each region.”

  She gestured toward one of the glowing screens.

  “Each possessed a unique elemental power.”

  She began listing them.

  “Air. Plant. Animal. Fire. Water. Shadow. Electricity. Earth. Ice. And Light.”

  The names echoed in the quiet room.

  “They protected the world from ancient threats,” she continued. “They kept the balance between nature, humanity, and the unseen forces of the world.”

  “They were called the Gifted.”

  I stared at her.

  My brain struggled to keep up.

  “What does that have to do with us?” I asked slowly.

  Mom met my eyes.

  “We’re descendants of the original Gifted.”

  The words hung in the air.

  “You and David inherited their powers,” she said. “Our family line traces back to the First Plant Gifted.”

  I blinked.

  “And your father,” she added, “is descended from the First Electricity Gifted.”

  That explains all the tech, I thought.

  Dad was always building something.

  “So… I’m some kind of godlike human?” I asked.

  Mom chuckled softly.

  “Yes,” she said. “In a way.”

  My mind raced.

  “What about David?”

  “He’ll inherit Electricity,” Mom said. “Only one child usually inherits the same power as a parent. Since you carry the Plant element, David will most likely awaken Electricity.”

  “Is it normal for two Gifted to marry?” I asked.

  “Very rare,” Mom replied. “But when it happens…”

  She looked at me thoughtfully.

  “Their children tend to be stronger than usual.”

  Back in the present, the memory faded.

  I was once again standing in the playground.

  And Perce and his crew were closing in.

  His friends looked uneasy. They kept glancing at the ground, probably remembering what happened yesterday.

  But Perce didn’t flinch.

  He doesn’t believe them, I realized.

  Good.

  I remembered what my parents always told me.

  Be smart.

  Be brave.

  Be creative.

  An idea sparked in my mind.

  We were alone.

  No teachers. No witnesses.

  And even if they told someone… who would believe them?

  Slowly, quietly, I summoned a patch of stinging nettles behind me.

  The plants pushed through the soil, spreading into a small cluster. Their jagged leaves trembled slightly in the wind.

  I stepped backward, letting the shadow of the plants hide my movements.

  I considered using vines again.

  But something inside me said no.

  Too obvious.

  Too messy.

  Instead, I plucked a single nettle leaf.

  One leaf at a time.

  Precision over power.

  I steadied my breathing.

  Perce’s friends hesitated, hanging back. None of them seemed eager to get closer.

  Good choice.

  I used to practice throwing darts with Dad. He always said accuracy mattered more than strength.

  I felt the wind.

  Adjusted my aim.

  And threw.

  The leaf struck Perce’s arm.

  He screamed instantly.

  The sting of nettles feels like fire under the skin.

  His friends panicked and tried to run.

  Too late.

  I hit them too—one after another.

  They stumbled and collapsed onto the ground, clutching their arms and legs as the burning sting spread.

  Groans filled the playground.

  My instincts told me that was enough.

  I lowered my hand.

  A strange feeling flickered inside me.

  Pity.

  Bullies often come from broken places. Maybe they were angry about something else. Maybe nobody had ever told them to stop.

  Maybe they didn’t know better.

  With a quiet gesture, I summoned a few dock leaves—the natural remedy for nettle stings.

  The plants sprouted beside them.

  I turned and began walking away.

  Behind me, the bullies groaned and reached for the leaves.

  I didn’t look back.