He was Kaen.
Not Cain. Not the exile, not the marked, not the condemned.
Just Kaen.
And once — before everything shattered — his world was bright.
⸻
The village of Felorien sat nestled between two mountain ridges, where light danced longer in the mornings and rested slower in the evenings.
Kaen would wake early, every day, not out of duty — but because he loved the way the sunrise painted his walls gold.
His mother used to joke that even the sun adored him.
"Kaen," she'd whisper, brushing his curls aside as she leaned over his bed.
"Time to wake, golden boy. The sun's jealous you shine more than it does."
He'd squint at her with sleepy eyes.
"Then maybe let me sleep longer. I don't need competition."
"Get up before your eggs go cold."
"Are they the good ones?"
"The ones you like. With saffron."
He would grin.
And the day would begin.
⸻
Felorien loved him. Not because he asked them to, but because Kaen always showed up with open palms and a heart too soft for the world.
The baker would save him the first cinnamon braid of the morning.
The blacksmith would let him sit in the back while he worked, telling stories of old wars Kaen had no interest in but still listened to.
He knew everyone's names.
And everyone knew his.
⸻
At the temple, he trained with the Lightmasters — priests who taught him how to use the rare magic humming inside his bones.
He was a natural.
He could heal a burn with a whisper.
Could light up a room without needing a torch.
But Kaen was never proud.
He just wanted to help.
"It's not power," he once said to the High Priest, "if it doesn't comfort someone."
"You speak like a prophet," the priest replied, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Even your thoughts are light."
Kaen didn't want to be a prophet.
He wanted to grow old with soft hands.
He wanted to write poetry, raise cats, build a little garden.
But when the world tells you you're special...
You believe it.
⸻
His favorite place was the Old Forest — quiet and sacred, untouched by war or stone.
That's where he'd go with Eren, his best friend since they were six.
Eren was all fire — reckless, fast-talking, wild. But Kaen loved him like a brother.
One day, they sat by the creek, throwing pebbles into the water.
"You ever wonder why you?" Eren asked.
"Why me what?"
"Why the Light picked you? You could've been some arrogant prick."
Kaen smirked.
"And yet here I am — an arrogant prick with good hair."
Eren threw a pebble at him.
"No seriously. You've had this thing in you since birth. Healing. Radiance. The priests call you 'Chosen.' Doesn't it ever scare you?"
Kaen leaned back on the grass, eyes on the canopy above.
"I think... the Light isn't about glory. I think it finds people who don't want to be kings. Just caretakers."
"So you're saying you're humble too?"
"Shut up."
They laughed until their ribs hurt.
⸻
At home, his mother would sing while cooking.
Songs from a language older than any temple.
His father, though a man of few words, would smile at the sound and fix the squeaky door Kaen always forgot to close.
One evening, Kaen caught them dancing in the kitchen when they thought no one was watching.
His father saw him, froze.
"Boy, you speak of this and I'll make you eat the mop."
Kaen laughed.
"Relax. I already planned to use it for dessert."
His mother swatted him playfully with a dishcloth.
"Go clean your face, temple boy."
"It's naturally glowing."
"That's egg yolk, not magic."
⸻
Every memory shimmered.
Kaen helping an old woman carry her basket uphill.
Kaen lighting the path for a traveler lost in the fog.
Kaen teaching a crying child how to turn fear into a spark of warmth in their chest.
He didn't do these things because he was told to.
He did them because that's who he was.
⸻
One night, Eren, Kaen, and a few other boys from the village made a fire near the forest edge.
They told dumb stories and dared each other to jump over the flames.
Eren leaned close as the others argued over who had the best jump.
"You think this will last forever?"
"What?"
"Us. Here. This. Being free."
Kaen stared into the fire.
"No. But I want to remember it forever."
"Even the bad parts?"
Kaen looked up, smiling softly.
"Especially the bad parts. That's how I'll know it was real."
Eren didn't reply.
He just nudged Kaen's shoulder with his own.
They sat like that — in silence — until the fire died down and the stars blinked overhead like quiet gods.
⸻
For years, the world was warm.
The sun rose gently.
The nights held no threats.
Kaen felt wanted. Wholet. Human.
There were no rumors.
No marks.
No curses.
No darkness.
Only laughter.
Only family.
Only light