Prologue

The tower was quiet. Wind passed through the cracks in the old stone, brushing against the walls with a soft, dry sound. Outside, the clouds were thick, hiding the moon. Inside, the only light came from an old bondstone, embedded deep into the wall. Faint lines across its surface flickered like a heartbeat.

Aric stood in front of it, his gauntlet raised.

He touched two fingers to the core of his gauntlet. The connection held.

A voice came through - not loud, but firm and quick. "Aric. They found you."

Aric didn't respond. He glanced over his shoulder. On a folded blanket in the corner, the child slept without stirring.

The voice continued. "Not guesses anymore. Not rumors. They know where you are. It's just a matter of time now."

Aric lowered his hand slightly, but didn't speak.

"The Dominion's split worse than ever," the voice went on. "Some still talk about containment. Others-" There was a pause. "Others say it's too late. They might try to end this before it begins."

Aric's voice came, quiet but clear. "And the others?"

The person on the other end didn't need names to understand.

"They're moving too. More fires. More disappearances. I don't know if they believe in the prophecy, or if they just want to control it, but it doesn't matter anymore. Everyone's looking for the boy now. All sides."

There was another short pause. Aric looked back at the sleeping child again. His expression didn't change.

The voice dropped lower, almost like it was hesitating. "I don't know what you plan to do. Maybe you still think you can run. But I don't think you'll have that option for long."

The crystal dimmed a little, the signal flickering.

"You know I'd help you if I could. But this is the edge. Whatever you're going to do… do it soon."

The glow faded, and the crystal went dark.

Aric stood there a while longer, not moving, not speaking. Then he turned and walked back to the boy.

Seren lay asleep on a folded blanket, wrapped in a soft wool cloak. His breathing was slow and steady. A small hand rested near his cheek, his fingers curled lightly. He looked peaceful. Safe. Aric watched him for a moment without moving.

He knelt beside the boy.

"I hoped this wouldn't come," he said quietly. "Not yet. Not like this."

He reached out and brushed a bit of dark hair from Seren's forehead. The boy didn't stir.

For the past year, Aric had kept them moving. Village to village. Ruins to valleys. Always one step ahead. He used old spells to hide their presence, covered their tracks with illusions, stayed off leyline paths. Every night he told himself there was still time. That the world would forget. That maybe, somehow, no one would ever come.

But now they were coming. All of them.

He didn't speak for a while. Just sat there with his hand resting lightly on Seren's shoulder.

When he did speak again, his voice was lower.

"They'll never stop looking for you," he said. "Not while they think you can be used."

He looked down at the gauntlet on his hand. The Core Crystal set in the center flickered faintly, waiting.

He took a slow breath.

"I can't give you a future here. But I can give you a chance somewhere else."

He reached inside the cloak and lifted Seren gently into his arms. The boy stayed asleep, head resting against his chest.

Aric stood, steadied his breath, and walked toward the smooth stone platform at the center of the room. He set Seren down carefully, then took a step back. The air around him was already starting to change - thinner, sharper, like the stillness before a storm.

He focused, drawing Aether into the Core Crystal on his gauntlet. Not too much yet. The real casting would come next.

First, he leaned in close and pressed his palm against Seren's chest, just above the heart.

He closed his eyes and whispered - not words of power, but memory. His own thoughts, shaped and sealed into the boy's sleeping mind. A message for a future he would never see.

Aric pulled his hand back, standing over Seren with a tired look in his eyes.

Then he drew a deeper breath and began channeling again, this time not to store-

-but to seal.

Aric stepped back, his boots scraping lightly against the stone floor. The platform where Seren lay was now quiet, still lit only by the pulse of Aether waiting in the Core Crystal.

He raised his arm. His fingers curled into a steady grip as he focused. Aether surged into the gauntlet - slow at first, then faster as he let the energy flow.

The air around the chamber pulled inward, not with wind, but pressure. The walls didn't move, but it felt like the world around them leaned in, watching.

He spoke the words aloud.

The spell's name was forgotten by most. It had not been used in centuries, and those who might still remember it only did so in whispers. But Aric knew it well. It had been passed down through his family - rare knowledge, tied to cost, not power.

As he spoke, the gauntlet flared.

Lines of light spilled out from his palm, reaching toward Seren. They didn't strike or burn. They wove. Thin strands of glowing energy wrapped around the boy's body, slow and precise. One by one, they folded inward, layering over each other like silk being pulled tight.

The spell was draining. Aric felt it immediately.

His knees weakened. A sharp heat spread from his spine to his chest, and his breathing grew uneven. The Aether inside him was pouring out, fast and steady, into the crystal, then into the spell. Not just energy. Something deeper.

He kept his arm raised.

The strands around Seren began to shift. They pressed in closer, now forming a shell of light—soft, curved, and solid. A half-sphere, glowing faint blue at the edges, flickered into place over the platform.

Aric staggered, caught himself, and pushed more power into the seal.

His skin was pale. His jaw clenched. His hand trembled as the light from the gauntlet dimmed slightly, even while the shell around Seren grew brighter.

A final word left his mouth. It was quieter than the rest. Not part of the spell, but a name.

"Seren."

The shell pulsed, then held.

A sudden stillness filled the room. The threads stopped moving. The light around the boy was no longer weaving - it had become a fixed barrier. Quiet. Perfect. Like a wall between him and the world.

Inside it, Seren lay unchanged. But to the world around him, he was now invisible. No Aether. No trace. He didn't register as magical at all. Just a boy. Ordinary.

Aric dropped to one knee.

He tried to rise again but failed. His breath came sharp now, and sweat clung to his brow. His vision blurred for a moment, then cleared again, just enough to see the shell holding steady.

He smiled weakly.

"It worked."

Aric stayed on one knee for a while, steadying his breath. His fingers brushed the edge of the platform, close to where Seren now rested inside the seal. The light surrounding the boy didn't flicker. It pulsed slow and even, like a calm breath behind glass.

The drain on Aric's body was growing worse. His limbs were heavy. The warmth in his chest had dulled. The Core Crystal on his gauntlet was still glowing faintly, but it wouldn't for much longer.

He pushed himself upright, just enough to sit beside the platform. His back rested against the stone base as he looked up at his son.

"I wanted to give you more time," he said quietly. "To stay a little longer. Let you grow up knowing who you were. But the world won't let you."

His voice was rough, worn thin by exhaustion.

"There are people who will tell you who you're supposed to be. What you're meant to do. Some will be kind. Most won't. They'll speak of fate. Of purpose. Of danger."

He let out a slow breath.

"But you're not a weapon. You're not a prophecy. You're just my son."

The seal held firm. Seren's face was calm, eyes still closed.

Aric leaned his head back against the stone, looking up toward the tower ceiling where the moonlight barely touched the edges of the wall.

"You won't remember this," he said. "Not now. But one day, when it matters, you'll feel it. You'll hear me again. And when you do…"

He paused. His voice nearly faded, but he finished the sentence.

"…choose your own path."

The seal was complete. The light faded from the air, and everything fell still.

Seren lay quiet on the stone, his small body wrapped in silence. No more Aether moved within him. It was sealed away, drawn inward until not even a trace remained. His presence no longer belonged to this world, and the world could feel it.

The rejection began without sound or warning. Aric didn't react. He knew what would come next. He didn't try to stop it. The space near the platform wavered - just slightly - and then tore open. It was not violent. It was simply what must be. Seren's body lifted gently from the stone, and the rift took him.

When it closed, the room felt heavier than before.

Aric sat slumped at the base of the platform. His arm had fallen to his side, gauntlet dim, fingers curled loosely. His breaths came shallow and slow, each one drawn with more effort than the last. His body was failing - he knew it - and he welcomed the stillness that followed. But peace was not what filled his chest.

He looked at the place where his son had vanished, and for the first time that night, his expression broke.

There had been so many things he wanted to say. So many moments he would never have. Seren would grow up in a world without magic, without truth, without anyone to tell him who he was or why he had been taken from the one he loved. He would be alone, confused, maybe afraid. And Aric wouldn't be there to comfort him. Wouldn't be there to explain.

He had done what he had to do. He had saved his son's life.

But it still felt like he had lost him.

His eyes stayed fixed on the empty space until they could no longer focus. His chest rose once more, then slowly fell. A dull ache lingered in his ribs, no longer sharp, just heavy.

He closed his eyes.

And for the first time since the day Ilyana died, Aric Raelthorn let himself feel the weight of it all - what was lost, what had been protected, and what would never return.

When his body finally stilled, there was no light left in the room. No sound. No warmth.

Only stone, silence, and the memory of a father's final gift.