Chronicles of the Aetherborn

Jordan hadn't slept.

He lay on a woven mat inside a hollowed tree-home that Ariana had led him to. The walls pulsed with a faint glow, like the tree was still alive and aware of his presence. Outside, the sounds of Ilyari continued — not cars or crickets, but strange melodic chimes, soft growls, and once… something that sounded like laughter, carried by the wind.

He turned again. No blanket could keep away the chill he felt in his bones.

In his world, days passed without anyone noticing him. Here, he was being watched every second.

At dawn, a knock came. Ariana.

"Get up," she said. "My father wants you to learn the village customs. If you're staying, you'll need to earn trust."

"Great," Jordan muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Where do I start? Sheep-herding? Potion-making?"

She smirked. "Start by not speaking."

They walked through winding paths surrounded by glowing flora. Villagers whispered again when they saw him — not just out of curiosity now, but caution. One boy muttered "cursed blood" under his breath before being pulled away by his mother.

Jordan clenched his fists. "They hate me."

"They fear you," Ariana corrected. "It's different. Fear can become respect."

"Or turn into a mob."

Ariana led him to an open clearing where others trained — not with swords, but with gestures. Runes floated midair, manipulated by movements of fingers, focus, and words he didn't understand. One young girl summoned a flicker of flame into her palm and turned it into a tiny bird that flew off chirping.

Jordan stared. "You guys… do magic?"

Ariana raised a brow. "What did you think this was? Cosplay?"

He shrugged. "Honestly, until yesterday, I thought magic was a fantasy. Now I'm standing in what feels like a dream."

She turned to him. "Dreams end. This won't."

By noon, Jordan had tried three different tasks: lifting stones using "mind pressure," balancing aura threads, and reciting ancient glyphs. He failed at all three.

The elders watched from a distance. Not judging, but definitely evaluating. One of them whispered something to Ariana that made her expression tighten.

"What did she say?" he asked as they walked away.

"That you have Aether-stain," Ariana said, reluctantly. "Some believe anyone touched by raw Aether is... corrupted. Tainted."

"I didn't choose to get thrown through a Rift."

"No one ever chooses," she said, more quietly.

Later, Jordan sat alone near the village edge, staring out at the woods beyond.

And that's when he felt it.

Like something… was calling.

He turned his head slowly. The trees beyond the village border shimmered slightly, like the air there was wrong. A cold breeze slipped past, carrying a distant whisper that tickled his mind but left no words.

Goosebumps ran down his arms.

"Ariana?" he called, but no answer came.

He stepped forward, just a few feet. The grass grew sharper here. The air thicker.

And then—he heard it clearly this time:

"You don't belong here."

Jordan spun around. No one.

Then suddenly—pain. A sharp burst in his chest, like something inside him tried to break free. He dropped to one knee, gasping. His hands… were glowing faintly blue. And from his back, he could feel heat spreading outward like wings trying to grow.

"What's… happening…?"

Then—Ariana's voice, sharp and urgent:

"Jordan! Step away from the woods!"

She rushed over, staff glowing as she slammed it into the ground. A burst of green light surrounded them both, cutting off the strange aura.

Instantly, the pain faded. The glow in his hands vanished. The whispers were gone.

Jordan collapsed, breathing hard.

"I don't know what that was. I swear."

Ariana didn't respond immediately. She stared at him, eyes wide.

"You were awakening," she said finally. "Too soon. Too raw."

He looked up at her. "Awakening what?"

She stood slowly.

"Whatever the Rift left inside you… it's not dormant anymore."