The cigarette smoke danced lazily around him, and Aedon felt that each deep breath pushed his blood faster through his veins. It was a combination of muted anger and that heavy stillness that only late mornings brought, when the world seemed neither fully awake nor fully asleep. His silver hair fluttered lightly over his shoulders as a cold breeze slipped through the collar of his coat, brushing against his golden skin like an old, forgotten memory. He clenched his jaw. He felt too alive, and at the same time, completely disconnected from the world around him.

"Why does everything feel so... empty?" he wondered, taking one last drag of his cigarette. The smoke filled his lungs, and for a moment, it was as if he forgot to breathe. "Why does everyone else seem to accept this? To be happy? Maybe I'm the one who's not normal."

He looked at his hands—long, well-defined fingers—and wondered how these same hands could feel so much yet do nothing to change anything. Every pore of his skin felt tense, as if waiting for something to happen, but that "something" never came.

He flicked the cigarette onto the gray pavement and crushed it under the toe of his boot. "In the end, what does it matter? We're all just bodies full of recycled energy. And for what? So the world can keep functioning?" He straightened his back and ran a hand through his hair, which gleamed faintly under the morning sun. His shadow stretched long before him, and for a second, he caught his reflection in a dirty shop window.

His opaque white eyes stared back at him. His long, almost unreal lashes looked more like delicate silverwork. It was a face that drew stares—too much, at times. A broad forehead, sharp cheekbones, well-defined lips. Standing around 6’3” tall, his well-sculpted body was hidden beneath loose clothing and coats that maintained an air of mystery. Women looked at him like something fascinating, a puzzle they wanted to solve. But him? He knew what happened when someone got too close.

"When you have sex with someone, you take in all their worst parts. You feel their fears, their traumas, their flaws. You absorb everything dark in their soul." That was what he felt every time. Two years ago, he had decided not to let anyone in again. It seemed simpler that way, even if, at times, the loneliness made his chest feel hollow, as if his soul had been hollowed out from the inside.

The morning air tasted of iron, cold and raw, and the cracked pavement beneath his steps reminded him of scars—his, the world’s, everyone’s. He walked slowly, but each step seemed to cut him from within. Every glance he felt from the shadows left his skin taut. Neighbors didn’t greet him. They respected him, but in a strange way, teetering on the edge of fear.

A group of workers passed by, laughing loudly. One of them, a man with flushed cheeks and a leering gaze, threw a comment his way:

— Haven’t made the switch yet, Velithre? Maybe you should stay like this. You’re already unique enough.

Their laughter shattered the air like shards of glass. Aedon didn’t respond. He kept walking, but he felt his blood boil, every artery pounding like a drum. "Are they so blind? Or am I the crazy one?"

As he neared the station, he recalled a morning from his childhood. Standing in the schoolyard, surrounded by other kids, he remembered saying, "I feel things. I see things. Does this happen to you too?" He remembered how they laughed at him. "You’re broken. You’ll see, after the switch, you’ll be normal."

Normal. That word had stuck with him ever since. Everyone believed the switch made you normal. But he didn’t want to be "normal". He never had.

The public transport car was empty. He sat by the window, resting his temple against the cold glass. His reflection in the window stared back at him like a ghost. His opaque white eyes seemed brighter under the faint bioluminescent light pulsing in the car. He folded his arms, feeling the thin veins under his golden skin. Everything around him seemed cold, but inside, there was a constant battle—a fire that couldn’t be extinguished.

A woman sat in the corner of the car, a vague smile on her face. Her eyes were empty, absent. "I wonder what kind of soul she has. How many switches has she had by now?"  He wondered if she even knew who she was anymore.

A man in a suit sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. Too perfect. Too lifeless. Aedon looked at him, wondering what kind of soul he had been given. "Maybe the soul of silence. Or obedience. A soul that doesn’t ask questions, that doesn’t step out of line."

His gaze drifted back to the window, where the city sprawled like a silent monster, pulsing with bioluminescent lights that seemed alive. He recalled what his mother had told him when he was young:

"You’re more special than you think. But being special in this world means suffering, Aedon. And the world will never understand you."

When he stepped off the train, the school building loomed before him, cold and silent, its blue lights pulsing faintly like a lifeless heart. He walked slowly, feeling the stares of his peers watching him from the shadows. They respected him but feared him. He was too different, too odd.

In the hallway, a teacher stopped him, looking at him over the thin frames of his glasses.

— Velithre, you can't avoid the switch. You're almost 25. No one escapes the Ceremony.

Aedon met his gaze calmly, though inside, anger surged once again. He smirked faintly, almost ironically.

— Then I’d better hurry up and live before I become someone else.

The teacher held his gaze for a moment, then walked away without another word. Aedon continued toward the classroom, but each step felt like it pushed him further away from this world. “I can’t change. I can’t lose my soul. If I do, what’s left of me?”

He stopped by the classroom window, looking out at the city, which seemed to pulse with a false life. They all think they know the truth. But I’ll find it. And I won’t let anyone take my soul until then.

Aedon sat at the back of the classroom, his usual spot. The wooden chair had worn edges that lightly scraped his hands whenever he leaned back. It was his place—far enough from everyone else to avoid their stares, yet close enough to hear the whispers of disdain or curiosity that came from the front.

The teacher entered the room, holding a bio-projector tablet in hand. He was a thin man with sharp features and narrowed eyes, as if always ready to cut someone down. The seal on his neck pulsed a steady green, its constant glow reflecting a stable connection to his soul. Although calm on the surface, his cold voice carried a harshness that made you wonder if that green light was as balanced as it seemed.

— Today, we will discuss social classification and professional selection, he announced, his cold tone vibrating in the tense air. It’s important to understand where you are now and what options you have for the future.

The hologram at the front of the class began to pulse faintly, displaying the social pyramid. Aedon glanced at the chart without enthusiasm. He had seen it dozens of times, but each time it pressed heavily on his chest. At the base were the lower classes: factory workers, farmers laboring under the blazing sun of the fields, or miners extracting energy crystals from the earth. Above them, the middle class—engineers, doctors, infrastructure designers. And at the top, the elites—those who became Archivists or society’s leaders, maintaining control over the entire system.

“Everything depends on the seal”, Aedon thought. “A simple light that decides who you are and how much you’re worth. We’d learned in class that the seal says more about you than you could say about yourself.”

Aedon shifted his gaze back to the hologram, but his mind drifted to everything he already knew about seals. “Seals aren’t just a symbol. They’re the code of the entire society. If you look closely enough, you can learn everything you need to know about someone.”

Primary color: The first piece of information a seal revealed was its main color, reflecting the state of the soul:

* Deep blue: Absolute balance. These seals were symbols of stability and a complete connection between body and soul. Lior had a perfectly blue seal, and its constant, unwavering glow seemed to radiate total control. Everything about him exuded confidence and adaptability.

* Pale green: In transition. Green seals, like the teacher’s, reflected a state of adaptation—the soul and body were harmonizing, but the process wasn’t complete. The constant but weaker glow was a sign that there was still work to be done.

* Vibrant red: Instability. These seals pulsed rapidly, their flickering light betraying intense emotions and a connection that could explode at any moment. Aedon had seen a few classmates with such seals—hot-tempered, impulsive, and ready to collapse.

* Intense violet: Rarity and complexity. Rare souls were difficult to master. Slow, almost breathing pulsations indicated immense potential but an extremely slow integration process.

* Gold and silver: Bearers of these seals were myths. They were the marks of original souls—impossible to change and impossible to replicate.

Brightness and secondary tones: The intensity of the light was crucial for understanding someone’s emotional state and stability:

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

* Intense pulsing: A sign of a recently changed soul generating immense energy. While advantageous in combat, it could become a source of instability in daily life.

* Steady glow: Suggested a complete connection and perfect adaptation. People with steady lights were considered the system’s success stories.

* Faint flicker: Aedon recognized these seals in those who had been forced to undergo too many switches. Their energy seemed to drain slowly, and the faint light was a warning of a possible total disconnection.

* Dark tones: The rarest and most dangerous. These seals appeared in corrupted or incomplete souls, or when the switching process had been forced. It was a disturbing sight, and Aedon vaguely remembered a schoolmate who had disappeared after his seal turned completely black.

Shape and symbolism: The patterns of the seals revealed as much as their color:

* Spirals: Indicated flexibility and adaptability, common in souls that had undergone multiple switches. These patterns seemed to reflect the soul’s attempts to harmonize.

* Straight lines: Reflected stability, logic, and a clear connection. The teacher, for example, had a pattern of straight lines radiating from the center.

* Fractures or cracks: Appeared on unstable or incomplete seals, a sign that the soul risked rejection or wasn’t fully integrated yet.

* Complex patterns—flowers or fractals: Reflected rare souls with unique potential. Myriah had such a fractal pattern, but her faint pulses betrayed that her rarity came with a high cost.

Aedon's gaze wandered over his classmates. He had learned to read seals, to see each one as a map of emotions and their lives.

Myriah Lesth ran her long, delicate fingers over the violet seal on her neck. Its light pulsed slowly, with interruptions, and Aedon knew it wasn’t a good sign. Though she appeared perfect—green eyes, translucent skin, her hair tied in flawless braids—her seal betrayed emotional instability. "Every time she laughs, it seems to hide a crack."

Eryan Torth, on the other hand, was a living example of decay. His pale green seal, located on his right arm, had visible fractures, and its light was so faint it was almost gone. His heavy, massive body seemed to carry the weight of a soul that refused to adapt. "If his soul breaks completely, he… won’t be himself anymore."

After more hours dragging by slowly, it was time for gym class. The hall was already brimming with energy, its translucent walls subtly vibrating under the light of the students’ seals. Their reflections projected onto the bio-active floor, creating an atmosphere that mixed physical tension with a spectacle of pulsating colors.

Aedon entered among the last, sliding into a corner of the hall. It smelled of cold metal and sweat. Those were smells he had always associated with failure, at least for himself. "Another chance to remind me of what I don’t have", he thought, watching the others warm up. Their seals lit up the hall, each telling a story—a triumph or a compromise.

The teacher, a massive man with broad shoulders, raised his voice. His blue seal pulsed slowly on his neck, steady and unwavering. A calm yet commanding presence. "A blue seal like a stone," Aedon thought. "But a tired stone."

— Today you will play Korrath. Velithre, you’re up first. Lior will be your opponent.

Aedon’s gaze slid toward Lior. His blue seal, positioned on his right arm, pulsed with a steady light, a symbol of perfect connection. The shining spiral lines at the edges moved almost imperceptibly, as though his seal breathed with him. Lior smiled, exuding the confidence of someone who knew he would win.

When the match began, Aedon felt every step like an effort to stay afloat. Lior’s movements were fluid, his energy manifesting as translucent shields that deflected every attack.

Lior’s seal pulsed faster now, as adrenaline rose. Golden tones in the center of the blue appeared and vanished, betraying the intensity of his exertion. "To him, the soul is just a tool", Aedon thought, trying to ignore the burning sensation climbing his arms.

Then he felt it—that small flame in his chest, that energy trying to surface. He paused for a fraction of a second, taking a deep breath. "It’s there. I know it’s there." He clenched his fists, trying to channel the energy, but all he managed to create was a faint flicker that disappeared before it could take form.

Lior didn’t give him time to recover. His energy exploded in a pulsating wave that struck Aedon square in the chest. The impact lifted him off the ground and slammed him onto the cold floor.

As he struggled to breathe, Aedon saw Lior’s seal glowing triumphantly, its pulses slow and assured. The golden tones were now absent—the battle was over for Lior, and he had won without a single crack.

From the floor, Aedon observed the light filling the hall. Myriah’s seal pulsed faintly on her neck, its violet cool and subdued. The fractal pattern of her seal seemed to unravel slightly at the edges, as if the connection was on the verge of breaking. But Myriah didn’t show it. Her raised chin and sarcastic tone hid the cracks.

— Velithre, maybe next time try to stay on your feet for more than two minutes, she said, smiling sweetly.

On the sidelines, Eryan rubbed the faintly flickering green seal on his forearm. The straight lines of its pattern were fractured, a sign of an unstable connection. "He feels what I feel", Aedon thought. "But he’s already given up."

The laughter stopped, but not out of respect. When Aedon stood, he felt his body heavy, as though carrying the weight of every soul in the room. Yet in his chest, that small flame continued to flicker.

The teacher cast him a brief glance, his seal maintaining its calm glow.

— Effort matters, Velithre. But you have to see that it’s not enough to just stand up. You need to truly fight.

On the way to the locker room, Aedon ran his hand over his chest, feeling the pulse of his own energy that refused to emerge. "I’m not like them. I’ll never be. But maybe that’s not a flaw. Maybe it’s a beginning."

He left the hall, leaving behind the laughter, the reflections of seals, and all the stories that, to him, felt false. "They’ve lost their souls for a symbol on their skin. Me? I’ll be more than that."

The cold water hit his skin like tiny needles, and Aedon closed his eyes, letting all the noise fade away. The gym and locker rooms were now empty, and the sound of water was the only thing that filled the air. He leaned against the slippery wall of the shower stall, lowering his head, breathing deeply, but in his chest, he felt the same weight that had been pressing on him since the morning.

"Another wasted day", he thought. The laughter from gym class still echoed in his mind. It was sharp, cold, and the seals of his classmates had been blinding—a symbol of something he didn’t have and didn’t want.

He stepped out of the shower and looked at himself in the mirror for a moment. His silver hair was wet, falling in messy strands over his forehead. His white, opaque eyes seemed heavier than usual. Those eyes were something the world didn’t understand. Whenever someone looked directly into them, they quickly turned away. People avoided what they couldn’t explain.

He ran his hand over the smooth skin of his neck. It was bare, devoid of any seal. No color, no shape to show who he was or who he was supposed to be. "They think I don’t have a soul. But what do they know about my souls?"

As he walked out of campus, the city began to transform. The late afternoon was slowly dissolving into the shadows of evening. The sidewalk was crowded with passersby, each lost in their own hurry. Although many seemed absent, their seals betrayed deeper truths.

A man passed him with a blue seal pulsing steadily. A woman ahead of him had a red seal that flickered intensely, reflecting the obvious anger in her movements. Somewhere farther away, a child ran, laughing, with a vibrant green seal glowing on their arm, its rhythm synchronized with their joy.

Aedon looked around. "They’re just lights", he told himself, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. They were more than that. The seals spoke of souls—of how recently they had been switched, how well or poorly they had adapted to their new bodies.

In a side alley, he noticed a man slumped against a wall. His gray seal was nearly extinguished, and its lines appeared fractured, as if it could unravel at any moment. No one looked at him. The passersby avoided him, steering clear as though he were a shadow.

"That’s what a soul that can’t hold on looks like. It’s not his fault. It’s the system’s fault", Aedon thought. He clenched his fists, feeling a surge of quiet anger. "But they don’t want to know that. They just want to believe he’s defective."

When he opened the door to his house, the silence hit him like a wave. In the kitchen, his father was hunched over holographic maps, his heavy hands resting on the table. The greenish light of the holograms highlighted his tired face, the deep lines carved by years of work and compromise.

— "You need to start taking things more seriously, Aedon", he said without looking up. "The switch is inevitable."

Aedon didn’t respond. He slowly removed his shoes and made his way to the fridge, pulling out a bowl of cold soup. He warmed it and sat at the table. The spoon clinked hollowly against the edge of the bowl, and the silence between them was heavy. Every time his father opened his mouth, it felt as if the air grew heavier.

His father glanced up briefly, and his eyes—though the same as Aedon’s—seemed different, lacking any spark.

— "You won’t understand until you make the switch", he added. "Once you have the right soul, everything will make sense."

Aedon looked at him for a few moments. "Sense?" he wondered. "How can something forced make sense? How can it make sense to give up who you are just to be accepted by others?"

He stood up from the table and walked to his room without saying anything else. His father remained in the kitchen, hunched over the maps, lost in a world of work and resignation.

His room was bathed in dim light, the city’s reflections dancing on the walls. He collapsed onto the bed, feeling the exhaustion pressing on every muscle. He ran his hand over his chest, where he had felt that small spark of energy earlier during the match. It was still there, faint but real.

"Why can’t I be like them? Or, better yet, why don’t I want to be?"

His eyes fixed on the ceiling as thoughts swirled chaotically in his mind. The ceiling, white and flat, was a perfect contrast to the chaos inside him. He ran a hand through his now nearly dry silver hair and sighed deeply.

One thought remained constant: "What’s happening to our souls? And what will happen to mine?"