Chronicles of the Aetherborn

The sky above the village was tinted a pale crimson as the sun dipped behind the twisted hills. Jordan sat outside Ariana's hut, legs crossed, bruises on his knuckles from the morning's training. His body ached, his thoughts a storm. He still couldn't control whatever was stirring inside him. Power surged at random—like a beast inside his chest clawing to get out—but when he tried to summon it, there was nothing. Just silence.

He punched the dirt. "What the hell am I?"

"You're not broken," a voice said calmly behind him.

Jordan turned. An older man approached, hunched but regal, with long white hair bound by silver cords. He carried no weapon, but power rolled off him like heat from a forge.

"I'm Eldros," the man said. "The Aether Sage. Ariana sent me."

Jordan blinked. "Aether Sage?"

"I teach the truth about what you are. And what this world runs on."

Jordan followed him in silence, down a winding stone path toward a shrine built into the side of a cliff. Strange symbols glowed faintly along the stone. Eldros waved his hand, and the entrance opened with a pulse of blue light.

Inside, the air shifted. Heavy. Electric.

Eldros lit the room with a wave of his palm. A massive tapestry unrolled before them—etched with strange creatures, glowing circles, and a figure that looked hauntingly familiar.

A man wreathed in light, eyes burning like suns.

"The Original Aetherborn," Eldros said. "He wasn't a god. He was a human. One who breathed Aether like it was air. He didn't just use magic—he was magic."

Jordan's mouth went dry.

"They say he destroyed an entire continent—Myrridon—with one breath," Eldros continued. "The Aether answered him. Obeyed him. And after he vanished, the world feared that kind of power. So they buried the truth."

He stepped closer to the tapestry. "We call it Aethercraft—the art of channeling the raw energy that flows through all living things. It connects the five continents. It touches every tree, every beast, every soul. And it's waking up again."

Jordan's heart thudded. "What does that have to do with me?"

Eldros turned. "You carry the mark. The Circle of Aether appeared when you arrived. That means you're not just any traveler—you're a descendant, or something even rarer: a reborn conduit."

Jordan shook his head. "But I can't control it. It just… bursts."

"That's because you don't understand the weight of what's inside you."

Eldros walked to the center of the chamber and raised a hand. The air shimmered. Runes ignited around them, forming a glowing diagram in mid-air.

"There are six disciplines of Aethercraft," he said. "Most can only learn one. You—if you truly are Aetherborn—can walk all six."

The diagram spun slowly, each school glowing:

Aetherforce – raw energy and pressure.

Florae – nature and growth.

Chrona – time and perception.

Umbra – illusion and shadow.

Vitalis – healing and life-force.

Dominus – control of spirit and mind.

Jordan could feel it. The diagram pulsed in his chest like it was tied to him.

"Magic comes at a cost," Eldros warned. "Burn too much Aether and you'll scorch yourself from the inside out. Steal it from others, and you'll lose your soul. But master it—and the world changes."

Jordan stepped forward, hand hovering near the glowing circle.

Then—

A sudden pulse.

His fingers brushed the light.

The chamber exploded with energy.

Symbols surged around him, lightning crackled through his veins, and his vision blurred with thousands of voices, past and present. Runes wrapped around his arms. He shouted, but it wasn't pain—it was power. Like breathing for the first time.

And then—

Darkness.

He collapsed, unconscious, the diagram still pulsing faintly above him.

Eldros knelt beside him, whispering:

"The world isn't ready for what you are."