BOOK ONE | SEED OF DISCORD

Chapter 1

Zeny Cartier lived a life painted in grayscale. In a small, conservative town nestled between hills and hard beliefs, being different wasn't just discouraged—it was punished.

Zeny knew he was gay from a young age, though he never said it aloud—not to his friends, not to his teachers, and definitely not to his parents. His father, a former soldier turned mechanic, treated Zeny's softness like a defect. His mother, more silent than cruel, believed prayer could erase identity. Their house was clean and quiet, but every room had walls that shouted.

He learned to hide—his voice, his emotions, the way he looked at boys. His one escape was books—fantasy novels where magic existed, and people like him could wield power instead of shame. But even that, he kept secret.

In school, Zeny was "that kid." Too quiet. Too soft. Too smart. Bullied, sometimes pitied, often ignored. He lived in the corners of things—classrooms, conversations, and even his own home.

Then, one night, a decision that should've been simple—walking home alone—led to something that wasn't. Whether it was a drunk driver or something stranger, the moment he died, Zeny felt a warmth like he never had before.

And when he opened his eyes, the stars were different. The air shimmered. Magic was real.

But in this new world, even magic had its prejudices—and Zeny would have to find out if this second life offered freedom, or just a different kind of cage.

Zeny sat up slowly, the surface beneath him soft and damp—grass kissed with dew or perhaps the remnants of an evening rain. His fingers sank into it, and for a moment he didn't breathe. The lake around him was still as glass, reflecting a sky unfamiliar and vast. Stars pulsed in odd constellations, spiraling like blooming flowers. One of them winked red. Another blinked like an eye.

The air hummed.

He looked down. His skin was paler now, almost luminous, and his body felt lighter—like something had been shed in the transition between death and... whatever this was.

"Where..." he whispered, his voice barely there.

Then he heard it—a melody, so faint it could have been the wind. But it wasn't. It curled around the edges of his thoughts like a question he didn't yet understand. It made his chest ache. It made his fingers tremble. He turned, and the forest surrounding the lake shimmered with silver-threaded mist. Trees twisted into elegant shapes, their trunks marked with symbols he didn't recognize but felt drawn to.

Something moved between them. Not a person. Not quite.

He stood, legs shaky, the tunic clinging to his damp body. The stars whispered again. His breath came in clouds, though the air was warm.

And then—his name..?

Not Zeny. Not the name his parents never said with warmth.

But Scarlet.

It echoed in his mind, not spoken but sung, carried by something deeper than sound. The name felt strange. Heavy. Like it belonged to someone who mattered. Like it had power.

The lake stirred. A ripple, then a shape—his reflection.

But it wasn't him.

The boy in the water had eyes that glowed faintly emerald, white hair tousled like wind-swept petals. His gaze was softer, but ancient. His lips parted as if about to sing.

Zeny took a step back.

The reflection didn't.

The stars pulsed again, and Zeny's knees gave out.