Zayne practically collapsed onto the warmth of a proper bed, melting after the cold shower. He lay there for a few seconds, smothered by the soft blanket, refusing to think about anything.

  he thought bitterly.

  Honestly, things had gone far better than he could have ever possibly imagined since he made the rash decision to enter the Inheritance. He could feel the Flow settling alongside food within his stomach, barely a touch away, a dream come true.

  But the Trial…

  Zayne trembled, as he fell back into the hell that he had witnessed with his own eyes. What now felt like a haze that stained his memories like black bruises on fresh skin. He had gotten what he wanted, but everything that happened in there just felt horribly wrong. A nightmare that had come to life.

  Not least of all the fact that he had willingly allowed a stone from a creature take control of him. The old man’s horrible leer, as the entire cave exposed thousands upon thousands of cocoons.

  

  It didn’t affect him anymore. Zayne didn’t need to care. Yet, for some reason, he felt compelled to get to the heart of that mystery.

  Then how did those four gods, and whoever the Flawed were, tie into this? That entire message, calling him a Flaw. The entire thing was definitely way out of his depths.

  But he would never be able to forget it. The sensation of horror and betrayal, his complacency at the old man’s cruel actions, Zayne hoped that it didn’t turn into some reoccurring nightmare and haunt him or something. Now that would be annoying.

  He pulled himself up, changed into baggy shorts and a plain T-shirt that they’d somehow managed to dig up from their cupboards. The were pretty damn wealthy for all their obsession with helping the common people. Owning what was pretty much an entire apartment, they had a large garden complimenting their home, with actual flowers decorating the dirt.

  Charlotte had allowed him to leave after he had gave a rough, half-true summary that managed to hide everything important decently well. It at least hid the fact that he might have released some ancient creature onto the world.

  In a day, he would be leaving for the Barracks, where the new crop of Nascent would be sent off to be trained. Mingling amongst some of the richest and most powerful in society.

  But before any of that, right before he went to bed, it was finally time.

  Zayne raised his hand, and drew upon the immaterial Flow within him, stored within whatever held it in place. Again, the power splashed into the tips of his fingers, and took the shape of a long, black quill.

  He groaned. It wasn’t a fluke.

  The only reason he only knew what a quill was because of ancient history. Even before people actually drew things out using a pen, there was a thing like a paintbrush that had to be dipped in ink.

  Somehow his Virtue was related to drawing or something, even though he had literally zero artistic talent whatsoever. That made no sense! Everyone knew that the Virtue was at least somewhat tailored to each person that got one.

  Zayne tried to recall the even more bewildering experience of receiving his Strand. It wasn’t like normal at all. He was practically left floating in the void for what felt like forever before being hit by a shooting star. His brain started connecting the dots.

  There was probably a reason why not a single Branded had become part of the Loom. He had even felt it reject his prize, and raged at it. So, to compensate, the Inheritance had given him a random Strand. The more he thought, the more he saw how much sense that made.

  His first reaction was to be annoyed.

  How was he going to use the power of drawing or whatever? Then a sudden realisation came to him, and he felt his heart beating furiously. If he had a Strand that he couldn’t use, and got another one in return... that technically meant he had two. Two virtues.

  That was something not even the Dawnforged could boast of! Zayne calmed himself, but grinned nonetheless. Even if he couldn’t use his other power yet, there had to be a way around the stupid Brand. After all, he was apparently a Flaw that wasn’t supposed to exist. Both the guy in chains and the random voice had called him that.

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

  And Zayne was perfectly happy being a Flaw. He would find the cracks, and get what he wanted, relying only on himself.

  For now, he actually had to experiment with this paintbrush to see what it actually did. Zayne first brought the wooden hilt close to his eye, and only then did he notice the delicate black letterings engraved onto the edge.

  ‘For my heart still beats.’

  That was pretty morbid. The only connection he could think of was the strange heartbeat – and that black heart – within the creature they had been inside of. What it did confirm was that he was right. This Virtue had belonged to someone else, who was probably dead. Hopefully that didn’t mean he would start hearing ghosts in his head or anything. The previous owner had to be pretty obsessed with being alive.

  Another thing he quickly discovered was that if the quill left his fingers, he could summon it back with just a simple thought.

  Zayne looked around his room, shuffling through the few drawers and finding a piece of paper. He breathed, drawing a neat line on the page. Flow left his body, just like last time. So, drawing with this would sap at his strength.

  But the line stood on the page, fresh and gleaming like normal ink. Through his special vision, he could see the special shimmer but that was it.

  Only then did Zayne pay attention to the invisible thread that he could feel with what was on the page. He experimentally focused, and much to his surprise the line bent into a squiggle. A single thought, and it curled into a circle.

  Still pretty worthless. But ideas had already started sparking past his pessimism. Reaching forward, Zayne the ink back into himself just by touching it.

  Thinking, he walked to a wall and then drew a large eye,. His thoughts ceased in place, when he felt his entire viewpoint of the world break into two halves, gazing back into himself like a mirror.

  Zayne tried not to stumble, as he soon grew used to the nauseating sensation.

  But most Virtues had a way of physical augmentations. They usually had more in them than a single thing he could summon as well. Considering his fatal mistake had to do with scrawling something, he might as well be careful.

  He closed his eyes, and sank into the perception of the power just out of reality’s reach. Again, Zayne could see the Flow, a tight ribbon that poured into the thing in his hand. A brilliant fog somehow transforming into black ink. Pulling on that exchange, the ink changed course, a leaden poison that felt scalding within his veins. Hissing with pain, he pulled back.

  The pain made no sense. Zayne tried again, and bit down on his lower lip in a way to force through the searing agony. It worked. Holding his breath, the ink flowed into his arms, and strength came with leaden frustration. But the moment he let go, it returned back to the quill.

  He found that he could churn the ink into the parts of his body that he wanted to enhance. Granting him extra speed with his legs, to a good solid force behind his punch. Every time, it hurt to just hold it in place. Enhancing himself was going to be a skill that would take time for him to master.

  So far, it at least appeared that he had something to work with. Even if none of it was fluid as what an innate Strand would probably feel like.

  The eye on the wall moulded into a single blotch in the middle. Zayne felt the missing slice slowly fill back into the brim, and noticed what was on the wall was starting to dry. And his control was starting to fade.

  Panicking, he grabbed the piece of paper and transferred all the ink onto a blank page.

  By the time he was done, Zayne was left with a single sheet of mouldy dry grey that felt as tough as metal.

  “Huh.” he said aloud, disbelieving.

  That was pretty cool. He turned it around, trying to pull the piece of paper apart, churning the ink into his arms and felt his muscles strain from the effort. However strong the ink made him, it was barely enough to wrench the sheet into two.

  The potential was endless. Now Zayne was finally starting to understand what this power appeared to grant. Something that looked weak, but was deceptively versatile with its possibilities. It wasn’t good enough to make him anywhere near the strongest out of the people he was going to be stuck with, but that was never his goal.

  But just felt like it was missing. He didn’t know why, but there was a crucial component that Zayne was sure that he had yet to discover. Well, maybe later.

  A yawn escaped his mouth, and he decided that was enough for now. He curled underneath his blanket, and lost himself in the embrace of sleep.

  A few others joined Charlotte as they examined his new clothes.

  “Here’s the altered ID.” one passed him his Q-Card, that looked ever-so slightly different, “Filled with three thousand credits.”

  If he had still been out on the streets, he would have practically carved off someone’s head for that sort of money. Zayne looked self-consciously down at himself. His hair had been combed onto the side, a far too neat pattern for what was usually wild and unruly, Brand completely invisible. A long blazer cuffed at his shoulders, along with the compulsory tie. Red and gold, with a crest of Azure emblazoned in front.

  In the mirror, he could hardly believe it.

  He looked exactly like a pampered Chosen.

  “A few things we need to confirm before you get going. What’s your new identity?”

  “I’m…” Zayne tried to remember, “I’m Zayne Althus, son of Reginald Althus. Kindled my Strand when someone tried to rob my house.”

  “Good. The rest you can make up on the spot. Now, for communications, you really don’t have to do much. I’ll contact you when I need something. Try not to die, will you? That’d be a little annoying.”

  The nonchalant attitude was a little unsettling, only worsening his nerves. No, there was no need to be worried. That slight dread was probably just from the dark clouds looming overhead. Very inconvenient.

  “Why would I die?” he protested.

  “I don’t know, getting attacked by the Tainted or something? I’ve heard rumours, kid, and I don’t think you’ll like them.”

  “Relax.” Charlotte reached forward and clasped him on the shoulder, “I’m sure it won’t be that awful. How bad could it really be?”

  Her words were swept up by the wind in the garden they stood, repelled by an ominous thunder.