Chronicles of the Aetherborn

The wind howled that morning.

Stormclouds churned over the village, casting long, shifting shadows. The villagers moved nervously, glancing at the treeline, gripping weapons they hadn't touched in years. Ariana's father stood at the gates, speaking in hushed tones to the guards.

Something was coming.

Jordan felt it in his bones.

"You've been uneasy since last night," Ariana said, watching him sharpen a borrowed dagger. "You saw something, didn't you?"

He hesitated, then nodded. "A symbol. Burned into a tree. And a voice… it spoke to me. Not with words. With something else."

Her eyes widened. "You didn't touch it, did you?"

"I—" he stopped. "I did."

Ariana's face darkened. "Then it's begun."

Later that day, scouts returned from the forest. Bloodied. Shaken. One missing.

"A creature," one of them stammered. "It moved like a man… but it wasn't. Eyes like embers. Skin like glass. It tore through the trees like they were nothing."

Jordan's gut twisted. The Veyrith again?

No. This was something worse.

A decision was made quickly: a search party would go out at dawn. Jordan insisted on joining. Ariana tried to protest, but her father allowed it.

"You'll need to learn what this world truly is," he said. "Better you find out now than later."

The forest was too quiet.

Jordan walked with the others, the dagger clenched tightly in his hand. He felt like the trees were breathing again — like in the dreamlike forest where he first arrived. His skin prickled.

Then… a sound.

Crack.

The scout ahead dropped without a scream, dragged into the underbrush.

Everything exploded into chaos.

A hulking figure burst from the trees — eight feet tall, cloaked in shadow, with a jagged grin carved into its skull-like face. Its arms were long, spindly, ending in hooked claws. Its eyes glowed with sickly green fire.

A Rendwalker.

"Fall back!" someone shouted, but the beast was already upon them.

Jordan was frozen.

The creature lunged.

He raised his dagger, knowing it wouldn't matter.

Then—something inside him cracked open.

Time slowed.

He didn't see magic. He became it.

Blue light erupted from his chest and arm. The air warped. The creature stopped mid-leap, held in place by a glowing tether of pure force. Jordan screamed as the energy poured through him. Symbols circled his arm. His eyes glowed like frostbitten fire.

The Rendwalker shrieked — not in fear, but rage.

With a final burst of will, Jordan threw it backward. The monster slammed into a tree, splintering bark and bone.

Then the light vanished.

Jordan collapsed to his knees, gasping, blood trickling from his nose.

"Jordan!" Ariana reached him just as he fell forward.

His vision blurred. The world spun again — not like the Rift, but something subtler. Inside him, something ancient stirred. Not fully awake. Not yet.

But watching.

When he woke up, hours had passed.

He was back in the village, bandaged, weak.

The villagers now stared at him differently.

Some with awe.

Others with fear.

Ariana sat beside him, arms crossed, brow furrowed.

"You channeled raw Aether," she said softly. "That's not possible for someone untrained."

"Well," he croaked. "Guess I skipped class."

She didn't laugh.

Instead, she leaned in. "That kind of magic… it doesn't come without a cost."

He met her gaze. "What kind of cost?"

Ariana hesitated. "The kind that changes what you are."

Meanwhile, in the ruins of a forgotten temple far from the village, cloaked figures gathered around a black altar. One dropped to a knee, speaking in a harsh tongue.

"The bloodline has awakened."

Another figure, cloaked in silk and bone, looked up with hollow eyes.

"So the Heir of Aether lives."

A thousand candles extinguished at once.

Darkness stirred.