The firstborn fenvasi child of Atei, Halvatt did not know his blood parents for much of his childhood. After triggering a violent vision of slaughter in his increasingly unstable mother, Lucinda, Halvatt was placed into a vast pocket dimension crafted by Atei and given to surrogate parents for upbringing. Atei, who was wholly uninterested in raising a child, decided he would extract Halvatt from this fragment of reality once he had become fully grown.
After all, his experiment had to pass preliminary stress testing. Entities behaved differently within different environments, and Atei wanted all the information he could obtain on his new, unpredictable subject.
Halvatt's memory of his early years was hazy. He knew he was different from his adopted siblings and the other village children. He also knew they did not like him much. He was smarter, healthier, and learned faster, much to the chagrin of others; and then at the age of four, he experienced something that would change the trajectory of his life forever.
After one of his adopted brothers' friends refused to play with him, mocked his attempts to make friends, Halvatt incinerated the boy, leaving him as a charred, brittle corpse. The elders of the village, despite their many suspicions, ruled that Halvatt did not actually have the capability to commit an act that would've required such astronomical amounts of magical energy.
But a few months later, the incident repeated itself: Halvatt would accidentally lose control of his temper and magic, reducing a child to ashes in an instant. There were more witnesses this time, and after hearing their combined testimony, the elders of the village ordered Halvatt to be put down, deeming his existence too great a threat.
This was the first and only times in his life where Halvatt felt true fear. He knew he had made a mistake, one he wished he hadn't. He apologised, he didn't know how it had even happened, and yet it seemed that forgiveness was completely out of the question.
There was no going back.
His emotions overtook him completely this time, causing a massive fluctuation of keirsi. The result could only be called an absolute slaughter, a devastating firestorm of rage and wrath that wiped the village off the map in minutes.
For the next year or so, Halvatt wandered the countryside of this pocket universe, stealing and killing as he needed to survive. He grew numb to his violent actions, as common as they were when he became too hungry or cold. Large patches of the realm had been razed by him, most smaller settlements no longer more than rubble and ruin.
And what did it matter? It wasn't as if he could live among normal people ever again. They were distrusting of him, and time and time again, they proved to him that in their eyes, he was nothing but garbage that should have been disposed of long ago.
It was when he approached a larger city, though, that he met an abnormal girl named Susansa. Bright eyed and kind mannered, she didn't seem to fear Halvatt or treat him with scornful suspicion. Rather, she shared her lunch with him and promised to bring him more the next day if he was still in town.
What started as an exchange would blossom into what could be called a friendship, and for the next few months, Halvatt lived on the outskirts of town without causing any destruction. Even after he revealed his identity as the fugitive arsonist, Susansa was unfazed, choosing to believe in his capacity for good.
She had seen for her own eyes that he wasn't a bad person at heart, and with that, she fully trusted her new friend. Eventually, the two made a plan to run away together and go on their own adventures, free from the rest of society and its rules.
For weeks, they ran through the countryside, living life as they pleased. Even though they were technically fugitives, Halvatt almost felt a sense of...comfort?
Was this what people meant when they told others to be happy?
When he asked Susansa this, she tilted her head, a knowing smile sneaking onto her face.
With a playful laugh, she took his hand into hers. The sudden gesture made goosebumps crawl all over Halvatt's arms. Her hand, despite being slightly bigger than his, was soft, smooth, and unflawed. Her gentle fingers entwined with his calloused, bony ones.
She asked him if he truly wanted to hurt others. She believed he didn't want that. But what did he believe?
Halvatt looked away from her gaze. This didn't feel right. None of this did. It was too sweet, like candy he wasn't supposed to taste. He wasn't supposed to know things like this. And now that he did, it hurt him. It felt like something was wrong.
He wasn't sure how to answer her question. With a tremble in his voice, he tried to voice what he long believed. He didn't know if he wanted to hurt people. But there was never another option. Somewhere deep within, he felt it was what he was born to do. It was almost as if fate demanded it.
For a moment, a pained frown flickered on Susansa's face. Halvatt blinked, bewildered. But the look was gone in an instant.
She had never looked that way before. Had he imagined it?
Before he could think on it much longer, Susansa pulled him into a hug. Terrified, he felt his entire body tense up at her touch. Why was she doing this?
They fell still for a moment, and she held him a bit tighter, squeezing him, as if she was afraid to let go. It was a foreign sensation. It was different. But he wasn't sure if he disliked it. He had never imagined what this would feel like. What was he supposed to think? How was he supposed to feel?
Shaking, he awkwardly wrapped his arms around her. He was uncertain if he was supposed to respond in kind. He had never been good at these kind of things. Yet he wanted to try.
As they embraced in the sunny meadow, Susansa, with her voice barely louder than a whisper, asked him something that chilled him: "Do you think fate can be changed?"
Again, Halvatt did not know how to answer. His gaze shadowed over as doubt crept into his mind. It made him intensely uncomfortable. But even moreso, it made him scared.
So when Halvatt finally resolved to respond, he tried to summon all the strength he had ever known.
"I...hope... it can be. I don't know...if I want to go on like before. I don't want to...hurt people...anymore."
They never talked about that day again. Halvatt, with all his awkwardness and introspection, did not know how to speak on such subjects at length. So he chose not to.
Yet it continued to ring in his head no matter where they went. Seeing the world around him, taking in the midday sun, the calming twilights, the watchful stars, the rosy dawns, he felt something within him begin to change.
Perhaps, he even wanted things to change.
And then one day, at the entrance to an open field in the middle of nowhere, Halvatt found that Susansa could no longer walk by his side. An unseen barrier stopped her from stepping any further into the field, despite Halvatt being able to cross back and forth unimpeded.
Susansa seemed distressed at this obstacle, but Halvatt was certain he could get her through. Promising that he'd be back to help, Halvatt then ventured deeper into the field in search of a solution to this predicament.
As he wandered deeper in, he stumbled upon an unknown white mist. The mist, heavy and stifling, made him feel sick to his stomach. But he heard a strange laugh coming from the distance. He was getting closer to the source of this trickery.
It was there he would finally meet his biological father, Atei.
The reunion was far from a sweet one. Atei, still laughing after having watched Halvatt all this time, addressed his son for the first time.
With a cruel mirth to his words, he insulted Halatt for his weakness and emotional volatility. Atei had seen it all by this point. Every failure, every attempt Halvatt made to thrash against his own insignificance, every pathetic fit of rage that left him more broken than before; it was fine entertainment. But after so many repetitive scenes, it was starting to get a bit dull.
Halvatt's face was distorted by rage, and still, without a care in the world, Atei leaned closer to his son. He smiled darkly as he watched the boy shake in anger. Did Halvatt have anything else to show him? Or had his usefulness reached its end?
Halvatt hadn't tried to hurt anyone since he began roaming the land with Susansa. But listening to this demon, this horrible thing speak those words, Halvatt remembered why he chose to hurt people in the first place.
The common language spoken between all living beings, regardless of what they were, was fear. When people wouldn't listen to what one had to say, the only way to get it through their thick, miserable skulls was to make them remember what it felt like to be in fear.
So he would do it now, even though he had told himself he wouldn't do it again. He would make this monster before him feel fear. He had to do it, because Susansa was counting on him.
But to his shock and frustration, he could not simply destroy the one who was hurting him this time.
Getting increasingly agitated, Halvatt hurled an onslaught of fiery attacks at the strange man, all to no effect. The magic phased right through him as if he wasn't even there.
Atei watched on, still laughing at the boy's pitiful state. He goaded Halvatt on, delighting as the child began to scream incomprehensible curses at him.
Undisturbed, he reached forward and stroked Halvatt's mangled hair. Halvatt's eyes widened. Why did it feel like Susansa's touch? But before he could process it, Atei yanked him up by his hair. As Halvatt struggled and cried out, a terrible heat began to emit from Atei's hands. The smell of burnt hair began to corrode the air.
Atei's dark eyes locked on Halvatt's. And so, Atei asked him: how would he feel if the girl he cared for so much saw this side of him? How would he feel if he could see that uncontrollable fear in her eyes, the kind he had always relished when it came to others? Did he want to see her realise that her 'friend' had been nothing but the rabid monster everyone else had known?
Or better yet, how would he feel if she was summoned here and Atei tore her apart, tiny, fragile limb from tiny, fragile limb?
Such a question unleashed something buried deep within Halvatt. Every bit of magic he could muster erupted from his body, unleashing the largest wave of destruction he had ever created. Within seconds, he had turned the entire pocket dimension into a charred wasteland, leaving nothing behind but a bleak, unfeeling world of white.
In the aftermath, Halvatt laid there, struggling to breath. On the brink of death, Halvatt realised that even with everything he had, he could not destroy the threat in front of him. Instead, he had destroyed everything else he had ever known. It was undeniable that nice things like happiness and friendship were not meant for someone like him. And hadn't he known this all along?
Atei, however, seemed amused by the boy's despair. Susansa, Atei explained, was a disposable being, just like any other being in the pocket dimension. Just like the beings inhabiting the "real" world beyond his existence. Susansa existed when Atei willed her to, and all the same, she disappeared when he willed her to.
After all, Atei had created that flimsy world Halvatt cherished. He wanted to see if his son had any worth to him. And evidently, he did not. Instead, he behaved like a senseless, sentimental fool.
Every single being in that world had been made to hate him. Atei knelt down, perched over Halvatt like a vulture. He had created that universe to stand against him. Susansa, despite her intended purpose, wasn't supposed to be any different.
But something about Susansa had broken. She was an anomaly, an outlier in the otherwise homogeneous system. Somewhere along the line, she had realised that the world was tied to Halvatt. When he died, she too would cease to exist.
Did he really think an entity like that cared for him? Atei stood up, beginning to walk away. She was no different than him, in the end. She wanted to escape her fate, and her "friend" was merely a means to achieve that.
And that was the most entertaining part of it all. Through the millions of possibilities that could've been, even within the one that showed Halvatt an unintended semblance of love, it was never more than a farce. He wasn't meant for things such as love. Atei didn't make him to be that way.
Unable to move, Halvatt watched helplessly as his father conjured up dying clones of Susansa, leaving them dying around him as he took his leave. His eyes welled up with tears, but the will to fight was gone. Halvatt could only listen to Susansa's pained cries amidst the deafening silence. They pierced his ears and echoed tauntingly in his head until they too, began to slowly fade.
Halvatt shut his eyes. This was how his life was going to end, wasn't it? Did he really expect something else?
As the world began to fade to black, though, Halvatt felt that deepseated longing surface within him. Throughout it all, he still wanted things to change. That was all he ever wanted.
Despite how much he hated every fibre of himself for it, he found himself thinking of Atei. There was a semblance of disgust, but it had begun to fuse with envy.
To be someone who never knew fear or uncertainty, someone with everlasting security and confidence that would never be troubled by anything that may come to be; if Halvatt had all of that, wouldn't that mean things would finally change?
That man was supposedly his father. If he was indeed born of that man, then surely, Halvatt would be able to achieve that same kind of power?
Whether that was true or not, it mattered little. Halvatt held onto that notion, entangling himself within its sharp strings like it was a net to catch him, a lifeline that would save him.
Gritting his teeth, with the last of his strength, Halvatt crawled deeper into the vast expanse of white, determined to find his father. He had to speak with him again.
And speak again they would.
Upon their second meeting, Atei, was nothing short of bemused by Halvatt's desperation. The boy had chosen to cling onto life. He thought there could be a future for himself.
So Atei would grant him one. But whether it was the future Halvatt wanted, none could say.
Combined with a lack of any proper control, Halvatt's inability to harness his magic properly proved to be a brutal combination under Atei's guidance. He was too emotional, his skills were always lacking, and as he attempted to channel magic greater than he was able to grasp, each failure only led to more self-inflicted injuries.
And each time, Atei was quick to dole out punishments, both mental and physical, that soon left Halvatt a shell of the child he used to be. Whatever had laid within him before was replaced by anger, fear, and an undying hatred for life itself. But when all was said and done, when the wounds healed and he was alone again, everything led him to one singular, looming question: why wasn't he the way he should be?
Obsessively seeking an answer, he chased after the hints of his early life he could scrape together. It eventually led him to a secret.
Halvatt learned that from the very moment of his birth, he had been rendered incomplete.
There was an unnamed twin, a girl who had inherited the last fraction of his powers. She took what would've made him whole. So Halvatt came to his final conclusion: that wretched girl was the cause of all his suffering. She was to blame. And as the years passed by, that girl became the sharpened focus of his hatred, even more than he hated Atei and Lucinda and the rest of the disgusting world looming around him.
He swore he would know no peace until she had suffered every bit of pain he had ever felt. He would not accept any other result. And when all that was said and done, he would retrieve what was rightfully his, finally taking his place among the gods as an ascended being.
The way things should have been from the very start.