The village of Elarin's Edge was unlike anything Aiden had ever seen.
Houses weren't built—they grew. Great stalks of glowing wood twisted upward from the earth, shaped by magic into walls and roofs. Crystals floated midair above doorways, humming softly, changing color with the mood of the home. Children played near pools of silver water that shimmered even without light. The people spoke in gentle tones, but each glance toward Aiden carried a flicker of caution.
Lyra led him down a curved path between two spiraling root-houses. "You're lucky I found you first," she said. "Some would've turned you over to the Magelords the moment they saw that mark."
"Why?" Aiden asked, his eyes following a bird with three wings and fire trailing from its tail.
"Because power like that doesn't go unnoticed." She lowered her voice. "And in this world… power invites chains."
They stopped at a low building near the river. Lyra pushed the wooden door open, and it unfolded like petals, letting them inside. Warm light filled the room, and the scent of ink, herbs, and burning stone lingered in the air.
Inside stood a man hunched over a table—robes stained with ink, hair wild, eyes bright.
"Master Elric," Lyra said, "we have a… situation."
The man turned, blinked at Aiden, then dropped his quill. "Oh dear."
Aiden raised a hand awkwardly. "Hi."
"You're not from here," Elric muttered. He stepped closer, inspecting Aiden like a scholar with a puzzle. "No, not from this realm at all. Not even from the known planes." He pointed at Aiden's chest. "That symbol—it's from the Prefracture Age."
"The what?"
Elric turned away, already pacing. "Thousands of years ago, before the Five Moons fell. Before the Threads shattered. Magic was whole back then—untamed, unlimited. Then something happened. A war. A betrayal. No one remembers clearly. But the world was torn apart, and magic fractured into domains."
Aiden frowned. "Domains?"
Elric turned, holding up five fingers.
> "Time. Matter. Spirit. Flame. Void."
"Each one held by a different Order. Balanced. Controlled. But sometimes, very rarely, someone appears who can touch them all. Not through spells. Not through training. But through instinct."
He looked at Aiden, serious now.
> "That's you. A Thread-Soul."
Aiden felt a cold shiver crawl up his spine. "I don't want power. I just want to understand what's happening."
Lyra stepped forward. "We don't have time for that. Word will spread fast. If anyone from the Ash Circle hears he's here—"
Elric raised a hand. "Then we'll keep him hidden. For now."
Outside, clouds began to form unnaturally fast—thick, dark, and quiet.
Aiden stepped toward the window. The wind had stopped.
From deep within the forest, a strange sound rose. Not a roar, not a scream.
A low, ancient hum—like a beast dreaming of a war long past.
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