The heavy rain poured over Theria Castle that night. The sky was black, void of moon or stars, as if signaling the arrival of something unwelcome.
Inside a grand chamber draped in silk, the queen of Theria lay weak after giving birth. The servants busied themselves tending to her, while the king stood nearby, staring at the newborn with an expression that was difficult to decipher.
"Bring him here," he ordered coldly.
A servant carefully lifted the infant and placed him into the king's hands. He gazed at his son's face—but something stabbed at his mind like a dagger.
Jet-black hair.
His eyes narrowed. "This…?"
The entire room fell silent. In the long history of the Theria royal family, not a single member had ever possessed black hair. Every descendant was always born with silver-white hair, the very symbol of their noble lineage. But this child… was different.
"Your Majesty," the royal advisor spoke softly. "Could this… be a bad omen?"
The weak queen heard those words. She tried to sit up, but she had no strength. "He is my son…" she whispered. "There is nothing wrong with him…"
But the king did not reply. His gaze remained fixed on the baby in his hands. Deep inside, an uneasy feeling stirred. His instincts told him that this child carried something that should not exist.
That night, however, he took no action.
Yet the seed of fear had been planted.
---
Five Years Later
A five-year-old boy stood in the center of a ruined room—shattered wood, broken glass, and a floor that had turned black and gleamed like obsidian. His black eyes, with irises glowing faintly purple in the darkness, trembled as he stared at the figure before him.
Lying lifeless on the floor was a royal servant. His entire body had hardened, turned into glossy black stone from head to toe.
Hurried footsteps entered the room. Several armored soldiers rushed in, followed by a dignified man draped in deep crimson robes.
"My God… what have you done, this boy…," the king's voice wavered, his eyes filled with terror.
Ziero did not understand. He only remembered his hand touching the servant… and then, all at once, the man's body hardened, frozen like a statue of black stone. He had never been able to sense mana like his siblings, but that night, something awoke inside him.
"We cannot allow him to stay here."
"But Your Majesty, he is still a child—"
"He is a threat!" the king's voice thundered. "Look at him! Those eyes… those hands… he is not human!"
No more words were spoken. The decision had been made.
---
The Royal Court
The grand hall buzzed with hushed whispers. The nobles of Theria stood around a long table, their expressions tense. At the far end, King Theria sat on his throne, his sharp eyes fixed on the small child standing in the center of the room.
Ziero.
The five-year-old boy kept his head lowered, his body trembling. His small hands still felt cold from the incident earlier—from witnessing the servant turn into obsidian right before his eyes. He didn't understand. He didn't know how it had happened.
But everyone in this room looked at him as if he were a demon.
"He is not human," one of the princes spoke, his voice ice-cold. "We knew from the moment he was born that something was wrong. His black hair… and now this?"
"We cannot allow him to remain in the palace," another noble said. "If he grows stronger, who knows what he will be capable of? This is no ordinary magic."
The queen, seated beside the king, clenched her fists, her eyes glistening with tears. "But he is still a child… our child," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
"You wish to defend a monster?" a princess scoffed. "Mother, even the court mages cannot explain his power. What happens if he loses control again?"
The king let out a long sigh. His face bore the weight of a heavy burden, yet there was no hesitation in his decision.
"We will cast him out."
The room fell into complete silence.
The queen turned, her eyes widening. "No… You can't…"
"He will be sent to Lostwood," the king continued firmly. "No one has ever returned from there. It is the only place for him."
"He is just a child!" the queen's voice shook, but no one stood with her.
Ziero slowly lifted his face. His black eyes, with their strange purple irises, stared at his father, but there was no hope in them. He had known for a long time… that he was never wanted.
"There is nothing more to discuss." The king rose to his feet. "Take him away."
Two guards stepped forward immediately, grabbing Ziero's arms and dragging him out. He did not resist. He knew it was useless.
That night, under the pouring rain, a carriage left Theria Castle.
Its destination: Lostwood.
A place no one ever leaves.
---
The Journey to Lostwood
The sound of carriage wheels clattered over rocky ground. The night was thick with darkness, faintly illuminated by the moonlight filtering through heavy clouds. Two knights on horseback flanked the carriage, their faces unreadable.
Inside, a young boy sat alone. The hood of his black cloak covered part of his face, but one glowing eye remained visible in the darkness.
Ziero did not cry.
He had known, from the moment he was born with jet-black hair unlike his family, that he was unwanted. But he never imagined they would go this far—sending him to a place with no escape.
Lostwood.
The forbidden forest that no one could ever leave.
After six months of travel, they finally reached Lostwood.
The carriage came to a stop at the edge of the forest. One of the knights opened the door, staring at Ziero with empty eyes.
"Get out."
Ziero remained silent.
"Don't make this harder," the knight sighed, his voice detached, as if speaking to something lifeless. "We're only following orders."
Whose orders? His father's? His siblings'?
They hadn't even come to see him off.
Slowly, Ziero stepped out. The moment his feet touched the ground, the carriage door shut behind him. The knight mounted his horse without another word.
And within seconds, they were gone.
No farewell.
No hesitation.
No looking back.
Ziero stared at the forest before him. Dark. Cold. Towering trees cast shifting shadows under the moonlight.
One step forward, and he would never return.
But… had he ever had a place to return to?
With no other choice, Ziero stepped into Lostwood.
And that night, the world swallowed him whole.
---
Nine Months Later
The rain poured endlessly over Lostwood. The sky was smothered in thick black clouds, lightning occasionally illuminating the darkness.
Between the towering trees, a lone figure moved in silence. His tattered black cloak clung to his thinner frame, but his eyes were sharper than ever.
Ziero had grown used to the darkness.
He knew how to read the shifting mist that could mislead him.
He knew how to hunt creatures that didn't exist in any history books.
And he knew… he was not alone.
From the shadows of the trees, something stirred. Massive. Its breath was heavy, sending hot air into the cold rain. A pair of glowing red eyes locked onto Ziero.
A monster.
Ziero stared back, completely unfazed.
Once, he might have trembled at the sight of such a beast.
Once, he might have tried to run.
But now?
Ziero simply raised his hand.
His once-normal fingers—now black as obsidian.
And in an instant, the ground beneath the monster darkened. Jagged obsidian spikes erupted, impaling the creature before it could even strike.
The monster howled, blood seeping through the cracks of the black stone.
Ziero stood motionless, watching the dying creature with cold indifference.
He was no longer the same child.
Lostwood had not killed him.
Lostwood had shaped him.
In the middle of Lostwood, among towering giant trees, stood a small, shabby hut. Its walls were made of rough wood gathered from ruins, its roof had holes in several places, and inside, there were only basic necessities—a mat made of dry leaves, a small fire pit, and a few tools crafted from bone and stone.
In front of the hut, a boy dragged a medium-sized beast.
Sharp horns protruded from the creature's head, its fur was thick, and its body was still warm despite its life having faded away. The beast might have once been terrifying to hunters, but now? It was merely a meal for someone who had survived in this forest for nine months.
Ziero took a deep breath, his glowing purple eyes staring at the carcass in his hands.
"Ahh... this should be enough for three days," he muttered, tossing the body onto the ground before starting to prepare its meat.
The stone knife he had crafted himself moved deftly in his hands. He was used to this. Cutting. Separating the edible parts from the inedible ones. Drying the meat for storage.
Everything felt so… automatic.
Nine months.
Nine months since that night.
"It's been nine months since I arrived here."
His hands paused for a moment. His gaze drifted to the sky, which never truly brightened. Gray clouds always veiled the sunlight, making it difficult to distinguish between day and night.
"I used to try leaving this place over and over again… but I always ended up back in the same spot."
He remembered how he had run aimlessly, hoping to find a way out.
He remembered how a strange mist surrounded him, leading him back to the center of the forest without him realizing it.
He remembered the despair of realizing that Lostwood would never let him leave.
"I have never felt the sun here… it's so dark."
His eyes slowly narrowed, returning to the memories that always haunted him.
That night…
The carriage that left without hesitation.
The cold eyes of the knights who didn't even see him as human.
His family's decision to cast him into this place, as if he were nothing.
"The reason I'm stuck in this place…" Ziero clenched his fists. "It's all because of them… I hate them."
The campfire beside him flickered, as if responding to his emotions.
But after a few seconds, he only let out a sigh.
"Well… thinking about it too much won't change anything. Right now, I have no connection to them at all."
He stood up, took the cleaned meat, and started cooking it over the small fire.
"I'd better just focus on surviving."
Because in this forest…
There were only two choices—adapt or die.