The astral sky shimmered above him, a boundless ocean of calm light.
Here, sound didn't echo—it flowed. The stars pulsed with rhythm instead of radiance, each beat syncing with Eryndor's breathing as he sat cross-legged in midair, suspended over a lake of light that mirrored infinity.
His body was still, but his aura wasn't. It swirled like a steady cyclone of silver-blue, each current bending toward the center of his chest—toward his heart, where the faint pulse of the Black Sun rested. Every few breaths, a spark of lightning danced across his skin, then dissolved into the air with a soft chime.
He had been here for hours. Days, maybe. Time didn't obey the same rules in the astral sky. Here, thought and will mattered more than clocks.
But today wasn't just about meditation. It was about purpose.
Eryndor's eyes slowly opened. They reflected the expanse above—soft blue with threads of starlight running through them. His aura faded to a calm glow as he exhaled. The silence that followed was deep, almost sacred.
Then a voice—gentle, warm—broke through it.
"Still overdoing it, aren't you?"
He turned slightly. Lyanna stood behind him, her white robes brushing against the glowing surface beneath her feet. In her arms was their son, Aren, wrapped snugly in a silver-lined cloth. His tiny hands twitched now and then, as though even in sleep, he could feel the pulse of his father's aura.
Eryndor smiled faintly. "Habit."
She came closer and sat beside him, the air bending slightly around her presence. Even here, in the realm of thought and spirit, Lyanna carried grace—quiet and unshakable.
For a while, they simply watched the endless horizon together. The stars drifted like living embers across the vast expanse, slow and deliberate.
Lyanna's voice came softly, almost a whisper. "Do you ever think about what kind of world he'll grow up in?"
Eryndor looked at Aren, who was breathing quietly against her shoulder. "Every day."
She smiled a little. "You always seem so certain of what you're doing. But I can tell… part of you is worried."
He chuckled under his breath. "You always see right through me."
Her gaze softened. "It's not hard. You've carried the weight of two lives for too long, Eryndor. But you don't have to carry his too."
Eryndor didn't answer right away. Instead, he looked up toward the higher layers of the astral sky, where lines of silver light twisted together like threads in a tapestry. "The prophecy. The higher dimensions. The Black Sun. They're all connected somehow. And if what that dream showed me was true… our son will be tied to it."
Lyanna tightened her hold on Aren, her eyes shadowed by worry. "Then what will you do?"
"I'll prepare," he said quietly. "That's why I have to go."
Her brow furrowed. "To the God Academy, isn't it?"
Eryndor nodded. "Aldric already secured a recommendation. The academy isn't just a place for training—it's the heart of the divine system. The gods watch its halls. Every candidate who enters is bound to the celestial cycle."
He paused, searching for the right words. "The students there aren't ordinary. Each one is the chosen successor of a divine element—children of archons, descendants of beings who once shaped continents. Some have mastered realms beyond elemental control… conceptual domains."
Lyanna listened silently, her expression steady but her eyes uncertain.
Eryndor continued, his tone thoughtful. "There are prodigies who bend gravity with thought. Heirs who wield time as if it were an extension of their heartbeat. One of them, I heard, carries the 'Will of Origin'—a power said to rival a minor deity."
He looked down at his hands. "Compared to them, even I'm a step behind."
Lyanna shook her head gently. "You've always said strength isn't about comparison."
He smiled faintly. "True. But at that academy, power determines survival. And knowledge determines who reaches the higher realms. If I'm going to protect you, him, and this world… I have to understand what lies beyond it."
The lake of light beneath them rippled softly as Aren stirred. Eryndor leaned closer and brushed a hand across his son's hair. "He'll grow up in a world I want to understand first. A world I'll shape differently than the one that shaped me."
Lyanna rested her head lightly on his shoulder. "Just promise me you'll come back."
"I will," he said. "And when I do, I'll bring back more than strength. I'll bring back answers."
They sat in silence again, the stars above shifting into new constellations. In the reflection below, the faint silhouette of the Black Sun pulsed once, like a distant heartbeat waiting for its call.
Eryndor's aura flared for a moment—a calm, controlled surge of blue light. His body lifted slightly, suspended effortlessly by the flow of his energy. Lightning arced along his arms, tracing runic lines that represented his evolved martial form: Storm Transcendence.
He closed his eyes, letting his mind drift between focus and faith. The air whispered around him. Lyanna held Aren close, watching as the man she loved disappeared into meditation again—one foot still in the world of men, the other already stepping into the realm of gods.