The Weight of Aether

"Ow!" he shouted, jolting awake. His foot had slipped into the edge of the pond, sending a jolt of icy water through him. In the scramble, he bumped his head—right against Anna's.

"Dammit!" she hissed, rubbing her forehead with a wince. Her glare could've melted stone. "You've been back five minutes and you're already a disaster."

Aether blinked, his vision settling. The ceiling wasn't sky, not really—but someone had gone overboard with ambient lighting. Thousands of tiny lights pulsed overhead, like fireflies frozen mid-flight.

"It's night," he muttered, mostly to himself. The lights weren't stars—too erratic, too alive. Some flickered quickly, others slowly, forming a rhythm that felt almost intentional.

"Wonderful," he breathed, captivated. Unlike the outside world, where maybe ninety-nine stars might show, this place held countless beacons—each one winking, trembling, as if reacting to him.

Anna shifted beside him, drawing his attention. Her gaze dropped to his side.

"Your hand." Her voice was soft, heavy with unspoken weight. "Dad tried explaining, but…" She flexed her fingers unconsciously. "What really happened?"

He looked down, the emptiness beside him suddenly impossible to ignore. The words stuck in his throat. "It's compli—" he began, unsure where to start. A mystical being had taken it—if not from this world, then the next. He sighed.

"Not long enough," Anna interrupted. Her voice was sharper now, with no room for escape. She narrowed her eyes. "I'm all ears, Aether." The way she said his name made him wince. She must've heard it from Henri. There was an aftertaste to it—disapproval? Contempt? Her voice bristled with anger... and something else. Maybe even disgust.

"Yeah, I'm Aether…" he replied slowly, testing her reaction. There was tension in his voice, like her words had cut deeper than he expected.

"I know. It's surprising, really." Her tone was cold. "You weren't even gone that long, and suddenly you've got a new identity? I know this isn't just some name-change excuse. For my wellbeing, I'm already starting to hate it." Her dark blue eyes gleamed in the dimness, cutting through the room like blades.

He hesitated. Her folded arms, the slight lean forward—she wasn't just curious. She wanted answers.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. The apology came quietly, more feeling than sound.

"How did you lose your arm?" she asked, almost a whisper. Yet her words rang clearly in the garden, each syllable weighted and insistent.

"I died." He exhaled. The admission hit like a punch to his own chest. "There was this place—the Crucible, he called it. Nothing like here. No air, no warmth, just..." His voice cracked. "War."

"Who?" she asked sharply, a crack appearing in her composed expression.

"An unusually grim fellow," he said, the ghost of a smile crossing his face. The memory of Ghost was surreal. That realm had felt like a fever dream—strange, empty, utterly lifeless.

"When did I start calling this place home, anyway?" he murmured to himself.

"What?" Anna blinked, her confusion mixing with concern.

"Ah, forget it." He waved it off. "Basically, I didn't want to give him my real—my old name. Thought he'd use it to control me."

"You lied?" Her brow rose. There was a flicker of a smirk, though it didn't reach her eyes.

"Yeah. I just didn't want him to track me down if I owed him something," he said, shrugging as if to make the whole thing seem smaller than it was.

"Then why 'Aether'? It's a lie. A false name—"

He raised his hand, cutting her off. His skillset appeared around them, faintly glowing in the darkness, casting shadows that twisted with a strange life of their own. Text hovered in the air, glowing with otherworldly hues. The familiar layout offered him an odd sense of reassurance:

Name: Aether Salvius Nox

Age: 16

...and the rest followed, as always.

Aether laughed, hollow and sharp. "Doesn't really match the old me, does it? Especially not with a name like that." The laughter faded quickly, leaving silence behind.

Anna stood frozen, eyes wide. A chill crept over her features. "Your name… actually changed."

"Yeah?" he said, voice low, unsure.

"You don't understand," she whispered, worry creeping into her voice. "I mean, maybe you do—but what did the grim guy tell you?"

"Not much," he sighed, sinking onto a nearby bench. Exhaustion dragged at him. "Just that life is… almost meaningless." His tone grew quiet. "They could at least give a guy a nap after dying."

"Almost?" she asked, leaning in.

"Almost," he echoed, this time with quiet resolve.

"Aether, let's go," she said suddenly, her voice steadier, her gaze turning toward the exit.

"What? It's night, right?" he blinked, puzzled.

"To the Grand Bibliotheca," she said, already walking. The flowers beside the pond trembled in her wake.

"Will it even be open?" he called after her, incredulous.

"It's always open, Aether," she replied, her silhouette slipping into shadow.

"Hate how she says my name..." he muttered, closing his eyes. He rose slowly, his empty sleeve shifting with his movement.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed, nearly stumbling as Anna appeared again, her expression a touch softer.

"About your hand..." She touched her wrist—briefly, almost imperceptibly. "I can't imagine. And I'm not good at this. I'm really not. But it's because of me everything happened. Even if you won't admit it, I used you. And I'm sorry."

"Really, it's alright," he said quietly. "I followed you by my own choice. I could've run, but… Elara's face said otherwise."

"Take it as you will," she replied, a faint smile ghosting across her lips.

"Same old…" he murmured, bitterness threading through his voice.

"Same old," she echoed.