Silent before the storm.
Kyle Raven – Roots of Fire
He was a nimble young man in the prime of his youth, twenty-four years old.
He wasn’t a hero...
Just a boy who handed his father the wrong wrench in the repair shop, got scolded, then did it again on purpose—just to annoy him.
He grew up between the clanging of iron and the smell of oil.
He spent most nights beside his father, who breathed life into broken-down cars everyone knew would never run again—but he fixed them anyway.
Perhaps because he was trying to fix something inside himself too.
His family was strict and disciplined.
From the outside, they looked perfect:
A stern father, a silent mother, and an obedient son who asked no questions.
But behind the walls, there was no spontaneous laughter, no hugs without reason, no accidental “I love you.”
That didn’t mean there was no love…
It was just conditional:
It showed up when he succeeded,
And disappeared when he failed.
His father was a meticulous man who believed that men are forged under pressure, not by words.
He used to say:
“Men aren’t made with hugs… they’re made with hammers.”
When his father died, the day felt strangely ordinary to his mother.
No tears. No screams. Just a haunting stillness.
But for Kyle, the pain wasn’t in the death…
It was In the deadly doubt:
Did his father ever love him? Or did he just respect him when he was useful?
Then came the second blow.
His mother, just a few months later, decided to marry another man.
Kyle couldn’t take it.
Everything built up—years, silence, confusion, rage.
So he left.
Left everything behind, without saying goodbye.
It was the first real decision of his life:
To rebuild himself.
To choose the hard road...
And join the army.
Between Hammer and Silence
In the military, Kyle wasn’t the cocky soldier flaunting his muscles or reputation. He was quiet, observant, always learning.
From the very beginning, it was clear—he wasn’t looking for attention, but for understanding… the kind of knowledge built on sweat and discipline.
He focused on mastering weapons—not just firing them, but disassembling, maintaining, and understanding them—like he was rebuilding his bond with his father, this time through living steel, not dead engines.
He Inherited something deep from his father: understanding things from the inside.
Just like his father tore apart engines to find what was broken, Kyle dissected every situation to find where the danger—or opportunity—hid.
Over time, he wasn’t just another soldier.
He became the calm mind people turned to in crisis. He earned the respect even of his superiors.
“Power doesn’t shout. Intelligence doesn’t brag. And silence… is what saves you when everyone else is screaming.”
His comrades grew to admire him—not because he sought their love, but because they saw something rare in him: silent strength.
He would sometimes sit in the corner of a dim room, cleaning his rifle with the same care his father once used on old engines.
That care, that focus, made people realize: Kyle wasn’t fighting to survive… he was fighting to understand.
And so, he rose from ordinary soldier to “the quiet mission man”—the one you barely noticed, but felt safer knowing he was on your side.
In his heart, he held on to a belief he once told a fellow soldier:
“Real men aren’t made by shouting or hollow bravery, but by the moments that demand you think—and not fear thinking.”
He began studying Greek philosophy and psychology, trying to understand himself. What he learned gave him deeper wisdom and calm.
Chapter One: The World Doesn’t Look Like Yesterday
The units awakened, weapons raised, the alarm bell sounded.
At first, no one understood what was happening. There were no sirens—just whispered, conflicting reports echoing through the military bases.
They said it was a strange disease… then said it wasn’t a disease at all, but something else.
The squad commander shouted:
“Get ready… but don’t shoot unless ordered!”
But fear moved faster than orders.
The first units sent out never returned.
The last messages received from them were filled with screaming… then silence.
One recording caught only this chilling voice:
“They don’t die… they don’t stop...”
And then—nothing.
As if something had decided to swallow this planet, piece by piece.
Some said it was divine punishment.
Others claimed the media had been hacked and nothing was real.
Kyle wished they were right...
He sat silently in a truck, watching the anxious people.
Outwardly calm, inwardly his heart pounded and his mind spun.
He didn’t know if this was a drill or the real thing.
But he remembered what his mother said after his father died:
“I wasn’t afraid of the unknown… but of what hides inside it.”
The truck started moving.
A soldier beside Kyle laughed and scoffed:
“Do you believe these reports? Man, I’m sure it’s nothing. Just hackers trying to cause chaos and panic.”
Kyle responded quietly:
“Rumors don’t wake armies.
Tears don’t fall at night because of lies.
When you see generals trembling…
That’s when you know the only lie is believing this is fake.”
The soldier shrugged:
“Maybe you’re right. Maybe not.
Guess we’ll find out soon…”
Kyle fell silent again, listening to whispers from the other soldiers, analyzing their faces and tones.
Suddenly, a strange sound in the truck—
From his time in his father’s garage, he instantly recognized the problem: something wrong with the front wheel.
Before he could warn the driver—
Boom.
The front-right tire burst.
The truck lost balance, speed made the crash worse, and it spiraled toward the cliffside.
Everything stopped.
Smoke. Screams. Rattling metal.
Kyle open his eyes—his head bleeding, ears ringing.
But what truly haunted him…
Was that terrifying moment of nothingness—
The silence that felt like the end of everything.
