It was deep within the Imperial Library — beneath the sealed floors, past records too old for time to remember — where Emperor Auren led him.
Only the two of them. No guards. No advisors. Just a torch glowing with starlight.
There, beneath the Palace, was a wall of black stone etched with swirling runes that shimmered when Zaxton approached.
The Wall of the Gateborn.
AUREN IX:
"My forebears weren't just rulers, Zaxton. They were anchors. Locks. Guardians."
He touched the wall. Glyphs lit up.
AUREN (cont.)
"The First Realm exists within a barrier — forged not by walls, but by will. The will of Gateborn. We're not kings because we desired power. We were chosen because we could hold the gate."
Zaxton stared. He wasn't sure what to say.
So Auren continued.
---
The Truth of the Don Bloodline
A thousand years ago, when the First Realm was young, the skies above it trembled with chaos. Strange entities — formless and ancient — tried to seep in through cracks in the cosmic fabric.
To stop them, a group of cultivators forged a pact with the stars themselves. In exchange for their lineage, they would gain the ability to maintain the veil — a living lock woven from blood, spirit, and celestial resonance.
These were the Gateborn.
Only the Don bloodline had the capacity. But the pact came with a curse.
As the centuries passed, fewer Gateborn were born. The blood thinned. The gate weakened. And with each generation, the Empire grew more paranoid, more desperate, more corrupt.
Until it fell.
---
Why Zaxton Was Different
AUREN:
"You're not of the main line, Zaxton. But the stars responded to you."
He turned to face him.
AUREN (softly):
"I think… you are what happens when the bloodline tries to fix itself."
Zaxton's silence was loud. He had never known his parents. Never known why his body felt too light under starlight. Why beasts obeyed him. Why the celestial map pulsed under his skin.
It wasn't just talent. It was design.
But then Auren's voice lowered.
AUREN:
"But I fear… we were too late."
---
The Thing That Already Entered
Auren opened a vault behind the wall.
Inside: a corpse.
Not human.
Not beast.
Drained of color, bent wrong, its eyes pitch black and blinking—despite being dead.
It had been found near the Northern Ridge, past the Tundra Gates. It took an entire Celestial Guard company just to bind it long enough to kill it. And even then… it whispered in dreams.
AUREN:
"Something came through. Not many yet. But it means the veil has thinned."
ZAXTON:
"And you think more will follow?"
Auren didn't answer.
Zaxton stared at the creature. His breathing slowed. For a moment, the stars in his body dimmed.
Then they burned brighter.
ZAXTON:
"Then I'll build a new gate."
---
A New Mandate
That night, Zaxton emerged from the chamber a changed man.
To the world, he was still the quiet savior. The Starborn General.
But now, inside him, a new fire blazed.
He was no longer just protecting Don.
He was protecting reality.
The Starveil Accord
The Hidden Years – Birth of the New Gatekeepers
After the revelation beneath the palace, Zaxton vanished from the public eye.
Rumors said he had gone east. Others said he had died.
But in truth, he had gone deeper.
He knew this threat could not be met by armies. Not even Stoneveil's.
So he searched the empire in secret, guided by celestial readings and whispers from spirit beasts, seeking the rarest of souls:
> "Those who burn under the stars. Not just with strength — but with clarity."
And he found them.
A runaway with eyes that saw auras.
A silent monk whose heart pulsed to the rhythm of moons.
A twin-born pair who shared dreams and summoned beasts without contracts.
Even a rogue prince of the fallen Loc Empire, burning with guilt and golden rage.
He gathered thirteen of them.
They trained in the Starveil Hollow, a hidden mountain pocket between realms where the astral flow ran like rivers through stone. Only spirit-beasts could guide the way.
Zaxton taught them more than combat.
He taught them truth.
About the veil.
The ancient pact.
And the shadow pressing its hand through the cracks in reality.
They would be called:
> The Gatekeepers of the Dawn.
---
Zaxton's Breakthrough – The Celestial Orbit
During a night of solitary meditation beneath the twin eclipses, Zaxton finally felt the pull.
His spirit detached from the bounds of body and beast, drawn into orbit around an unseen star.
There, he met his limit.
And broke it.
The next morning, he returned from the stone caverns with his aura blazing silver and black, galaxies swirling faintly in his irises.
He had ascended to Celestial Orbit, the highest known stage of cultivation within the First Realm.
From that day on, even the air seemed to bend around him.
---
The Southern Sky Cracks
Three years had passed since the birth of the Gatekeepers.
On the 13th day of the lunar cycle, every star to the south dimmed.
No comet passed. No beast stirred.
Then came the wind.
Then the silence.
Then the breach.
It opened like a jagged mouth in the southern sky, right above the Varnlow Expanse.
The first village—gone within minutes.
No rubble. No sound. No survivors.
Just a hollow impression, as if existence had been scooped out.
Then another.
And another.
Villages erased. Sky shimmering.
And crawling out of the rip:
> The Formless Swarm.
Shifting, ever-changing masses of black and violet mist, blinking with alien light. Some walked like beasts. Some floated like thoughts. All of them hungry.
---
Zaxton Responds
He summoned his Gatekeepers.
They arrived within the hour—mounted on spirit-beasts fused to their very essence, eyes hardened with cosmic truth.
The people of the southern cities watched as thirteen glowing figures and their leader stood atop the last ridge before the Expanse.
ZAXTON (softly):
"Don once sealed these gates. We must become the seal again."
They charged.
And the skies screamed.
---
The Battle of Vanished Sky
It was unlike any war ever fought.
The Formless were not bound by flesh or logic. They slipped through barriers, mimicked voices, split into lies.
But the Gatekeepers had trained for this. Each of them bore the Mark of Binding—an astral tattoo linking their will to Zaxton's.
The aura-seer burned through illusions.
The twins merged spirit beasts into a celestial hydra.
The rogue prince fought like flame wrapped in regret.
And in the center of it all: Zaxton.
His blade no longer metal, but starlight condensed.
Each swing rewrote the air.
Each step left behind constellations.
And when one of the Formless split into five writhing horrors—
He absorbed them into orbit, crushing them in a ring of gravitational force, his body glowing like a miniature sun.
---
A Temporary Victory
By dusk, the breach began to close.
Not because they had sealed it—but because the swarm retreated.
As if testing.
As if calculating.
As if… laughing.
Zaxton stood among the ashes of three villages. His robes torn. His eyes bleeding starlight.
But his heart steady.
ZAXTON:
"This was only the first claw. The rest are coming."