Night spilled over the ruins of the Eryndor Palace like a shroud of silent shadows. The breeze carried the scent of wet stone and forgotten grass, and the embers of Kael's fire cast flickering silhouettes on broken walls. He sat alone in the ancestral hall, before the cracked crest of his family. The scroll in his hands trembled slightly, not from cold, but from the pressure beginning to rise within him.
[Kael's Perspective]
Kael closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This wasn't just an ordinary study. Since awakening, strange flashes had haunted him — vivid scenes, memories that weren't his. But now, here, before that crest and the ritualistic warmth of the flames, the invisible chains binding his soul began to loosen.
Reality wavered around him. The fire cracked sharply — then everything went dark.
Suddenly, Kael was elsewhere.
Open fields, cloaked in a crimson mist. Corpses in black and gold armor lay strewn everywhere. Dragons roared in the distance, and in the sky, rifts crackled with energy like streaks of pure lightning. He didn't see with his own eyes — he saw through another's.
It was a vision.
Or more accurately, a memory.
He was inside the mind of a man — a hero.
The figure wore a radiant suit of armor adorned with draconic sigils that pulsed with their own light. In his hand, he wielded a black spear wreathed in blue flames. The hero surged through the battlefield like a living storm. The wind bent before him, the earth trembled beneath his feet. Behind him, entire armies followed, shouting for justice.
"Kael Eryndor," a voice whispered in his mind.
That was the name. The same name echoed in old war songs, the same nearly erased from records. Kael understood now — the hero of the Great War, the one who almost saved the kingdoms from collapse, was him. Or at least, a part of him. The runes, the ancient words, the ability to read what was unreadable… it all made sense.
[Kael's Memories — The Great War]
The memory pulled him deeper.
Kael approached a ruined fortress, where black banners marked with a silver serpent fluttered. Inside, nobles clustered around a stone table.
"We're losing…," one of them muttered.
"Then maybe it's time to betray those who can't win," said another.
The words sent a chill through Kael's dream-body. Even within the vision, his eyes tried to pierce the shadow hiding the speaker's face. It was blurred, distorted, like the memory was protected. But the emotion was clear. The betrayal began here — not just against the Eryndor line, but against the House of Virelios.
A pact was made.
And the fall of noble houses had begun.
Then another memory flickered — the battlefield again, but this time from a distance. The hero, Kael's former self, stood atop a mountain of enemies. His breath was ragged, his body wounded. Yet the spear remained steady. Lightning and fire collided overhead as two titanic beings clashed in the sky — gods or demons, Kael could not tell.
The vision pulsed violently.
[Return to Reality — Kael's Perspective]
Kael gasped and stumbled backward from the crest. He was back in the ruined hall, drenched in sweat, panting. But something had changed. The memories of that ancient warrior were now inside him — not as foreign fragments, but as a flame burning in unison with his soul.
He understood.
Magic and aura were separate — yet intertwined like two rivers flowing side by side.
Aura was the manifestation of will and life force. It arose from the spiritual core of every being, unique in form and quality. Warriors used it to harden muscles, strengthen skin, sharpen senses. It was the domain of the body.
Magic, on the other hand, was the manipulation of the external world. It relied on the harmony between soul and element. To control it required study, understanding of runes, formulas, and pacts with hidden laws. It was the domain of the mind and essence.
Usually, one mastered either aura or magic.
But Kael walked the impossible path between them. His spiritual core was dual. An anomaly, a blessing — or a curse, depending on who judged it.
[Kael's Perspective — The Awakening]
He sat cross-legged and drew a long breath. He needed to test it.
Focusing inward, he activated his aura core. Heat surged through his limbs — not burning, but thrumming like a heartbeat magnified. The sensation was raw, primal, powerful.
Then, he shifted his focus. Extending his hand toward the fire, he whispered a word in the old tongue.
"Vae'therin."
The flame rose as if acknowledging his authority. It danced in the air, shifting colors — orange to white, then to a deep, spectral blue.
Kael attempted the impossible.
He unified them.
His body's aura fused with the flame's magic. The fire reacted, coiling around his arm — not burning, but testing. The fusion was unstable. His body trembled, bones creaked. It was like taming two wild beasts with a single breath.
Still, he endured.
The fused flame formed a sigil in the air — a circle etched in ancient runes, glowing violet and silver. At the center, the Eryndor crest blazed.
A sharp wind burst through the chamber. The old stones groaned. The air pulsed with energy. For a heartbeat, Kael felt he could command the very world.
Then came the backlash.
He gritted his teeth as a wave of pain erupted in his chest. Blood dripped from his nose. The fusion demanded more than strength — it demanded balance. Soul and body in harmony.
[Lyara's Perspective]
Outside the hall, Lyara felt a sudden pressure in the air. The mana stirred, as if the roots of the world had been disturbed. She rushed to the entrance, then froze.
Kael floated slightly above the ground, eyes closed, encased in light and fire dancing in unison. A magic seal hovered above his head, and his aura roared around him.
She didn't know whether to cry or flee. What she saw was raw power — ancient power. Something not seen since the days of the War.
Was this really her brother?
Or… something more?
Tears welled in her eyes. Not from fear — but from awe. And grief. For the brother she had lost… and the force he had become.
[Elene's Perspective]
Elene awoke from a strange dream. The spirits had screamed — with joy and with fear. She rose, dazed, and from the garden saw the lights pulsing in the hall.
"He touched the veil," whispered an ancient spirit. "He challenged the laws."
"And because of it… he will be hunted."
Elene shivered. Only ten years old, she understood truths many adults ignored. And she understood what it meant.
Kael had awakened.
But with awakening came the eyes of gods — and of demons.
Another spirit floated beside her, whispering into her ear.
"He is no longer just of this world."
Elene nodded solemnly.
"He never was," she replied.
[Kael's Perspective — After the Awakening]
The sigil vanished. The flame dispersed. Kael collapsed to his knees, exhausted but triumphant. He now knew he wasn't merely the heir to a fallen house. He was bearer of a forgotten force. A bridge between the physical world and the arcane.
But he also knew the burden he carried.
The vision of the traitor — ?????? The fall of House Virelios. The link to the past.
Everything pointed to something far greater.
Kael was no longer content with surviving.
He didn't seek only to rebuild his house.
He sought truth.
And justice.
And, above all — to carve his name into history once more.
Even if the world tried to forget him again.