Chronicles of the Aetherborn

The wind had turned colder over the last few days. Even the trees seemed uneasy—leaves rustling too loudly, shadows stretching too far. Jordan had spent nearly a week in the village of Ilyari, but the feeling of being a stranger never left.

He had trained each morning with Ariana in the hollow near the edge of the forest, though "training" mostly meant falling on his face and swinging a wooden staff until his arms burned. His body felt different—stronger, faster—but whatever power had brought him here still slept within him.

And now, something else stirred. Not within him—but beyond the trees.

It began with silence. The kind of silence that swallows birdsong and pushes against your chest. Jordan paused mid-swing during practice.

"You feel that?" he asked.

Ariana lowered her staff. Her eyes narrowed. "Yes."

The bushes to their left shifted. Not like wind. Like breath.

Suddenly, something massive lunged from the undergrowth—low and fast. A beast covered in bone-like armor, eyes glowing sickly yellow. It snarled as it leapt toward them.

Jordan acted on instinct. He shoved Ariana behind him and raised the staff—

But he was too slow.

The beast collided with him, sending him crashing into the dirt. The staff cracked. The creature snarled and raised a claw.

Then—

Boom.

A shockwave pulsed from Jordan's chest.

The air shimmered, distorting like glass under heat. The creature howled and was thrown backward, slamming into a tree hard enough to snap the trunk in half.

For a heartbeat, silence returned. Then the ground hissed where Jordan lay. Blue embers flickered across his skin—symbols glowing faintly—before fading into nothing.

Ariana ran to him, dropping to her knees. His breathing was shallow, but he was alive.

"Jordan…" she whispered, touching his cheek. "What are you?"

He woke that night in a haze, lying on a bed of moss. The healer's hut smelled of herbs and ash.

Ariana sat beside him, her expression unreadable.

"You scared everyone," she said.

"I scared myself," he replied, hoarse. "What even happened?"

"You defended us. But that power… it wasn't normal. It felt ancient. Old magic. Aetherkind."

Jordan blinked. "You think I'm like… them?"

"I don't know," she said. "But the village is afraid. Even my father."

He sat up slowly, wincing. "Great. So now I'm a walking threat."

Ariana didn't answer. Instead, she stood and paced toward the window.

"When I was ten," she said quietly, "soldiers came to our village. Sent by one of the kings—King Edros of Valecar. They said my mother was a threat. A seer."

Jordan listened, heart pounding.

"She tried to warn them. Said a darkness was coming. That a storm would swallow the continent. They called her mad. Burned her in the village square."

"Ariana…" he whispered.

"I couldn't save her. I was just a kid. But now you're here—and you show up glowing like prophecy."

She turned, eyes filled with something between fear and hope.

"Tell me honestly, Jordan—are you here to save us… or to finish what she predicted?"

He looked at her. The silence between them was heavy.

"I don't know," he said. "But I want to find out."

Outside, far beyond the forest, something shifted in the night. A shadow moved along the hills—tall, cloaked in ash and wind.

Watching.

Waiting.

The game had begun.