Power did not follow bloodlines. It arrived like a secret storm -random, merciless, and
indifferent. Most children awakened to it between 13 and 14: a sudden levitation, an
object shattering mid-air, a shadow bending against the light. Some could summon
wind. Others could vanish through walls. A few could see seconds into the future.
And just as often, there was nothing.
The day a child felt its absence, it stayed. That absence became identity.
They all began in the same schools, played in the same parks, shared the same
pencils and songs. For years, they were just children. Among them were twins; one
would later awaken with power, the other would not. They sat side by side,
indistinguishable in joy and mischief. Until the powers came. One by one, names
were called.
Those with abilities were moved first to different classrooms, then to different wings,
then to entire institutions. And the twins were separated, their paths no longer one.
At first, it was framed as safety. Then as necessity. Eventually, it was just the way
things were.
The powered were trained. Conditioned. They learned control before they learned
kindness. Discipline before compassion. Emotion became weakness. They were
praised, elevated, promised futures. As they grew, they became lawmakers,
strategists, heads of cities and nations. The powered ruled the world – not officially at
first, but steadily, undeniably. Their voices were louder. Their choices heavier. Their
reach, absolute.
To preserve the illusion of balance, a handful of unpowered figures were placed in
leadership. One among them was titled the ‘Representative of the Unpowered’ – a
figurehead meant to offer hope. But it was symbolic, for show. Their words echoed,
but changed nothing. Their presence was a curtain drawn over the truth: power had
shaped the system, and power alone maintained it.
The unpowered were told to support. To admire. To be grateful. They were not
pushed to grow. They were never asked what they wanted. Their purpose was
proximity – witnessing greatness they were told they could never match.
And for years, they believed it.
But among the forgotten were a few, no more than a thousand scattered across the
world who refused to vanish.
They turned to intellect, to invention, to science and knowledge. They were not
celebrated. They were not encouraged. Their contributions were ignored, dismissed
as trivial. But they persisted. They built in silence, discovered in shadows, and turned
thought into resistance. They made intellect their power.

Others, countless others made homes, raised children, and quietly hoped that one
day, a child of theirs might awaken with power. One family, poor and forgotten, lived
in the cracks of a city built by the powered. They already had five children, none of
them awakened. But still, they had more. Seven. Then eight. Desperation clung to
them. Each child born was a prayer. A hope that maybe this one would spark. And
they endured.
There were rumors about the powered leaders. Pregnancies were hidden, whether
their own or their partners’, births and upbringing were kept secret unless the child
awakened with power.
Some whispered that those born without power were quietly erased, that they were
never given names, never entered into records. It was said that to preserve their
image. Leaders were as heartless as to end the lives of their own powerless
children. The public only ever saw the gifted.
Desperate, some among the unpowered turned to ancient rites and forgotten beliefs.
It was true that most powers emerged by 14, but a few awakened much later. And
when that happened, especially among those who belonged to cults or fringe faiths,
they believed it was the blood offerings, the sacrifices, the pain that brought it forth.
They gave credit to rituals instead of randomness. Some were manipulated. Others
brainwashed.
Because to be powerless in this world was to be invisible. And people would rather
bleed than disappear.
Then
It crept in.
Not all at once, but slowly, like dusk bleeding into day. It started with glances over
shoulders, words left unfinished, a tension that tightened with no source.
At first, no one said anything. But they all felt it. In the way strangers avoided eye
contact. A thread pulled taut inside everyone and no one dared pull back.
It was fear. But fear of what?
Silence?
Stillness stretched..
Across every nation, every home, people paused. Something unseen moved through
the air. Conversations died. Smiles faltered. Children laughed, and adults winced.
The unease came first. Then the forgetting. Of names. Of directions.
They locked doors twice. Thrice. They feared looking in mirrors.
The children were untouched. They played. They dreamed.

Some wanted to give it a name.
Scientists searched. Leaders promised solutions. Some whispered about mental
contamination, mass hysteria, a new power?
Leaders spoke of national unity and perseverance, looking confident and poised.
Lying had become easy, if not easier.
But deep down, everyone knew.
You cannot fight what lives inside you.
It was time for the truth to come out.
They felt it in their bones. In their teeth. In the moments before sleep. The end was
near. And before it arrived, they chose to speak.
Across every city, leaders, those same powered voices who had been praised for
decades stood before microphones.
And in every language, they said:
"We lied
We cheated you
We craved love we didn’t earn
We wanted to be adored, to be praised, to be obeyed.
We chose power over you.
We remembered the teachings of the Ancients and we turned our backs on them.
We convinced ourselves of a lie so we could sleep at night.
And then we made you live in it.
We called that peace.
We made you carry our sins and called it your duty.
We have built this world around our cowardice.
And now this thing, we feel it in our bones, in our blood, it’s coming for us
We cannot escape it
It will take control of us
It already has”..
A confession after years of tyranny!
It was the crumbling edifice of a world built on guilt, greed. Ha! Did they really believe
they could be forgiven? Perhaps, they thought speaking the truth just this once,
finally, might cleanse the sickness they’d brought upon us all.
But they misunderstood its nature.
The crowds listened. Mostly silent. Some wept. Some screamed. Some unleashed
their powers into the air as if it could undo what had been done. A few leaders,
unable to bear the weight of their own confession, lost control or chose not to
restrain themselves. In moments of panic or denial, they turned their powers on the

very people who had once believed in them. Millions of people never made it back
home.
But nothing changed the silence.
The unraveling had a name.
Shame. Guilt. And the long, echoing weight of truth.
People looked at each other without rank.
Grown up twins, once separated by a world that told them they were no longer the
same. One gifted. One not. Yet now, standing side by side, their parents looked upon
them with new eyes. Not as more and less but as equals who had always been.
Across plazas, fields, alleys, and courtyards, the children began to hold hands.
No instruction. No speech. Just small fingers, reaching.
Because the children had never felt it.
But.
The truth had been spoken.
And in the silence that followed,
A second truth was spoken without words.
As not all truths is spoken aloud.
Especially, one locked beneath decades of silence.
The books of the Ancients were never burned.
Leaders were as strong as they were cowards.
They did not dare destroy the words that once guided the world. One leader once
tried to burn a single ancient scripture. He died the next day, unexplainably. But the
story spread. It didn’t matter that it was coincidence, paranoia did the rest. The
whispers grew. They feared a curse, feared consequence.
And so, the books remained untouched. Hidden. Guarded in dark vaults, sealed
behind layers of time and silence.
They told no one. They hoped no one would look.
But deep down, they knew;
If the truth remained, so did their guilt.