Chronicles of the Aetherborn

The next morning, the village of Ilyari felt colder. Not by weather, but by mood.

Jordan walked through the marketplace with his hood up, Ariana by his side. The stares followed him like shadows—villagers whispering under their breath, pulling their children close, giving him space like he was cursed.

One elder crossed himself when Jordan passed.

"They think I'm a monster," he muttered.

"They're scared," Ariana said. "They've seen power like yours before, and it never ended well."

Jordan glanced at her. "You mean Aetherborn?"

She hesitated. "Or something worse."

He didn't press. Not now.

Later that day, he found himself at the edge of the training grounds again—this time alone. He gripped a wooden blade, trying to focus, to feel whatever had erupted from him before.

But nothing came.

He yelled in frustration and hurled the sword into a tree. It stuck deep, humming faintly before going still.

He felt power inside him. It was like a caged storm—but locked away. Mocking him.

"Why now?" he asked aloud. "Why me?"

He turned to leave—then froze.

Smoke.

Thin, black tendrils curling through the trees. He crouched low, following it.

As he moved deeper into the woods, he saw something that made his blood run cold.

A nearby outpost—used for foraging and scouting—was burning.

Bodies lay scattered in the brush. Burned. Slashed. One of them twitched.

Jordan rushed forward and knelt beside the man—a young scout, barely conscious, blood covering half his face.

"Who did this?" Jordan asked, panic rising.

The scout gripped his sleeve. "Not… bandits… not beasts…"

"Then what?"

The boy's eyes widened in horror. "They wore white," he rasped. "Eyes like mirrors. No voices. Just... humming."

He went limp.

Jordan stood slowly, heart pounding. Something had attacked—and it hadn't come for supplies.

It had come for something else.

That night, the village gathered for a council. The chief, Ariana's father, stood at the center. His eyes were cold as he looked at Jordan.

"You found the bodies?" he asked.

Jordan nodded.

"They were scouts. Our best."

"Then something is coming," Jordan said. "And it wasn't human."

Murmurs. Fear spreading like rot.

One villager stepped forward. "It's him," she spat. "He brought this. He brought them."

Another chimed in, "The beasts never came this close before he arrived!"

"I protected Ariana," Jordan snapped. "I nearly died doing it."

"Or maybe you lured them to us with that cursed power of yours."

Ariana stepped forward. "Enough! He's not our enemy."

Her father raised a hand. "We will not turn this into chaos. But we must prepare."

He turned to Jordan. "Until we understand what you are… you stay under watch."

Jordan's fists clenched. "You want to cage me?"

"No," the chief replied calmly. "We want to survive."

That night, Jordan sat alone at the outskirts of the village, the stars above spinning slowly. He felt farther from Earth than ever before.

Ariana joined him, quiet for a while.

"My mother warned that something would awaken when the realms grew thin," she said. "Maybe this is what she meant."

Jordan shook his head. "I just wanted to find my brother."

"And now?" she asked.

He looked into the dark woods.

"Now I want answers."

Far away, in a silver chamber lit by flickering runes, a figure knelt before a hooded being.

"The boy has awakened," the kneeling one said. "But the seal still holds."

The hooded figure's voice was like ice cracking.

"Not for long. The Aetherborn's blood will call to itself. And when it does… we claim him."