Chapter 1: The Cold Dawn

The dawn was breaking, a cold, harsh light that seemed to pierce the very soul. The air was biting, a cruel reminder of the winter that was fast approaching. Arvid, a pale, tall, and skinny figure with calloused hands and scuffed boots, stood at the edge of the ravine in clothes too thin for the weather, his gaze fixed on the almost dried-up river below.

Today was his sixteenth birthday, the day when the mysterious and elusive writings would begin to determine his fate. No one knew where they came from or who sent them, but they were ever-present, and from the age of sixteen, they began to judge a person's deeds. The first deed was the most important and gave a defining trait. A person's most distinguished action would be recorded, and their fate inextricably tied to it. Once you completed your first deed, you became a "page".

There were quite a few stories about it. The first deed could begin any time within the day of writing, as it was called, and could last any time. Some had sailed through asleep and regretted waking up to an associated deed and trait. Others had waged battle during their deeds and became warriors. Others had waged a different kind of battle and done the deed during the deed and got corresponding traits - those were always strange.

The river, once a thriving source of life, was now a mere trickle, a pathetic remnant of its former glory. In their desperate hope, the town folk would come here to cast their nets, dreaming of the bounty they could catch. But the reality was far from their dreams. The fish were scarce, their numbers dwindling as the river dried up. The odds of catching anything were slim to none, a fact that was as clear as the cold dawn light.

So here was Arvid, trying to get a good trait or any trait from fishing that would allow him to survive this godforsaken world. The climb to the top of the ravine was a grueling one, a test of strength and endurance that few were willing to undertake. The path was steep and treacherous, the risk of falling all too real. But the view from the top was worth the effort, a panoramic vista of the barren landscape that was both breathtaking and heartbreaking.

As he stood there, on the edge of the ravine, overlooking the almost dried-up river, he felt a strange sense of calm. The cold dawn, the biting wind, the harsh reality of his situation - none of it mattered. All that mattered was the task at hand.

And so, with a deep breath, he began his vigil, his eyes scanning the river for any sign of movement. The sun rose higher, the cold dawn giving way to the harsh light of day. But he remained, steadfast and determined, his gaze never wavering from the river below.

"Well If I don't get anything else, the view should count" Arvid managed from his chattering teeth.

"Won't taste as good as fish though" he added darkly after a few breaths as he rubbed his hands together.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

The day had begun. And with it, the most important day of his life.

Arvid had a fishing net close to him. He walked cautiously, slowly, his eyes fixed on the river, trying to spot any sign of life simmering within the murky waters. His plan was simple but effective. Observe where the fish seems to be coming from, drop the net from the top downwind, go down and wait for the deed to start, then spend it collecting the fish and pray for a good trait.

As he was walking along, taking in the tide, he was caught by some reflective glare from the corner of his eyes. Being the scavenger he was, he could only hope he might have a lucky find and moved closer to the rocky outcrop where there was a strange bundle of thicket. "Eggs?" he murmured, uncertain what kind of creature would lay such big eggs this high in such an environment.

Suddenly, a piercing screech echoed through the air, and Arvid's eyes widened at the sight of an irate eagle swooping towards him. He retreated, his movements quick yet measured, his gaze locked on the avian matriarch. It was then that the gravity of his situation dawned on him. The eagle was a creature of the shade, akin to humans over sixteen, subjects of ancient texts, imbued with 'ink' - a mystical essence that manifested as empowering inscriptions. His heart pounding like a war drum, Arvid distanced himself from the nest, his net in hand, his eyes never leaving the rapidly closing beast. As he prepared to flee, the world fell silent. A towering sheet, akin to parchment and visible only to him, materialized in the sky. The golden text, [The first deed begins], flickered on the 'page' before vanishing. Stunned by the sudden apparition, he instinctively recoiled.

Where he had stood moments ago, the eagle's talons shredded the earth. Snapping from his trance, he leaped back, only to find the ground had disappeared beneath him. "Damn it," he cursed, plummeting. His life didn't flash before his eyes. Instead, he was trapped in a waking nightmare, the eagle in hot pursuit of its breakfast. As a creature of the shade, its speed and power were extraordinary. Its talons pierced his shoulder, the shock of his fall still fresh. His scream echoed as his descent halted abruptly, his hands jerked by a force pulling him towards the ravine walls. He collided with the wall, realizing his net had snagged on a sturdy creeper.

The sudden shift dislodged the eagle's grip, its talons bloodied as it continued its descent. The net, unable to bear the strain, ripped, and Arvid resumed his ungainly fall, just above the accursed eagle. Unaware, the eagle spread its wings to slow its fall, only for Arvid to crash onto its back, sending it spiraling toward the wall. Fear of the fall gripping him, Arvid clung to the eagle, a handful of feathers in each hand, much to the bird's dismay. Disoriented, the eagle slid down the ravine wall, its speed terrifying. Yet, as a creature of the shade and twice Arvid's size, it broke free from the wall with a screech, managing a semblance of gliding despite its unwelcome passenger and injuries. Arvid, fully aware of his predicament, glanced at the river below, muttered, "Well, it's all white meat, I guess," and shifted his weight onto one wing, sending the eagle spiraling into the river.

In his mind, Arvid's stunt was far more graceful and impressive. The reality, however, painted a different picture: a giant eagle crashing into the river, hitting the riverbed, while he was flung onto the bank, landing face-first in the sand. Before he lost consciousness, the page reappeared, announcing [Deed concluded].