Shadows of Stars |Wielder Chronicles Book I|

Written in Stars // Soren

All of the following short stories are based before the events of Shadows of Stars.

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The hunger slowly devoured Soren.

It was always there, gnawing at him from dawn to dusk, then again from dusk to dawn. The pangs were always the worst in first few days after he scavenged something to eat, but after that he was hit with such a weakness, that he didn't even feel hungry anymore. He was too weak to even think about food.

Every now and then a kind soul would look down at him as he sat against the white-bricked wall of a building, soot covering his face, grease oiling his hair. Coins would fall from their hands into the tattered hat that lay in front of him. Sometimes he was even lucky enough to be given a sandwich or a cup of soup to warm him on the coldest days.

Most civilians walked right past him, avoiding his pitiful gaze as they focused on anything but him. Maybe they believed that if they didn't look at him, they wouldn't feel guilty about not aiding a homeless child.

The black hole in his stomach began to spread to his heart and he sought to punish those who would not help him.

A woman who curled her lip at his grimy appearance thought her hair had caught on fire. A man who pretended to drop coins into Soren's hat saw spiders crawling over him. A mother who pulled her daughter away from his vicinity believed her hands were covered puss-filled sores.

He was so weak at that point that even using his powers to shift the reality of humans—even the tiniest bit—caused nosebleeds. Headaches continued to worsen until all he could do was sleep to take the pain away.

He was fading into nothing. Any memory of him would be swept away with the wind.

But one day, his fate changed.

A man, dressed in black from head to toe, rounded the corner from a nearby alley. He quickly reset the hat on his head, tucking away stray hairs that had fallen down. His eyes darted to Soren as he neared, his brow hitching, his lips sliding into a snake of a smile.

As he sauntered by, Soren reached for him with his mind, finding his thoughts easily compared to most. He was a dark splatter amongst the sea of gray and white.

The moment he brushed against his mind, the man whipped around, his dark eyes cutting to him. Soren shriveled back into the wall, his heart pounding in his chest. He was slowly dying from starvation, but that didn't mean he was ready to die, and the look the man's eyes only revealed one thing—death.

The man didn't yell, he didn't even touch Soren. Instead he crouched down in front of him with his elbows resting on his knees. His irises were so dark that the line between them and his pupils was almost non-existent. Soren felt like he was looking into two black holes, yet somehow felt oddly comforted by their darkness.

"What did you just do?" the man asked, his voice warm and deep. He waited for an answer, but Soren didn't answer him. He was so thirsty, any words that left his mouth would have been nothing but a failed attempt. His black eyes traveled down Soren's bony face, to his thin frame and rugged clothes. "When was the last time you ate?"

Soren could have shrugged his shoulders. He could have shaken his head. But instead, he stayed still, his eyes unblinking as he waited for the man to ask another question.

"What is your name?" the man asked as Soren had predicted.

Once again, Soren stayed silent.

The man rose from his crouch and took a step away from Soren before looking back at him over his should. "Follow me," he said.