Jayden did not sleep the night the stranger arrived. The man's words haunted him with every breath, every flicker of the lantern flame that cast long shadows across the walls of Thom's cottage. Mira had helped him drag the unconscious figure inside, and now the stranger lay on a cot near the fire, pale and still, save for the shallow rise and fall of his chest.
Thom had grumbled about bringing in "trouble from the woods," but he did not turn the man away. His rough hands, more used to hammer and plow, worked with surprising gentleness as he cleaned the wound on the stranger's arm and bound it tight. Thom said nothing of the silver light that lingered faintly in the man's eyes, though Jayden had caught his uncle looking more than once, as if he recognized something he dared not name.
Mira stayed as well, pacing the small room with restless energy. Every so often her gaze flicked to Jayden, full of questions she did not voice. Jayden wished he had answers for her, but his own mind was a storm—river water rising to his call, thunder in his veins, a dying man who knew his name.
When dawn broke, pale and uncertain, the stranger stirred.
Jayden was at his side in an instant. The man's lids fluttered open, and the glow in his irises was unmistakable now, like molten silver barely contained. He looked directly at Jayden, and in that gaze Jayden felt a weight settle, heavy and undeniable.
"You have your mother's eyes," the stranger rasped.
Jayden's breath caught. "You... knew my mother?"
The man's lips curved faintly, though pain shadowed his face. "I swore an oath to protect her bloodline. To find you. The veil grows thin, and your enemies have not forgotten."
"My enemies?" Jayden's voice cracked. He could feel Mira and Thom watching, both tense and silent. "I'm just a farmer's boy. I have no enemies."
The stranger coughed, blood flecking his lips. Thom pressed a cloth to his wound, but the man waved him off with surprising strength. His gaze never left Jayden. "You are Arkwell by name, but your blood sings with an older power. The elements answer you because they remember. And those who hunt that power will not rest until it is theirs."
Jayden staggered back. His hands shook as he pressed them to his head. "No. This is madness. Rivers don't obey people. Storms don't... listen. That's impossible."
"Yet you felt it," the stranger said, his voice a whisper now. "The storm was your herald. The river, your first awakening. You cannot deny what is written in your blood."
Jayden turned toward Thom, desperate for some anchor to normalcy. But his uncle's weathered face was unreadable, his jaw tight. That silence hurt more than any denial.
Mira stepped forward, placing a hand on Jayden's arm. "You said the same thing yesterday. You knew it wasn't normal. Maybe..." She hesitated, then finished softly, "Maybe it's true."
Jayden wanted to argue, to shout, to laugh it away. But he could not unsee the river rising like a living thing, could not unfeel the hum of power that still lingered in his veins. He sank onto the bench by the hearth, burying his face in his hands.
The stranger closed his eyes, his strength fading. "My name is Kaelen," he murmured. "I crossed the veil from Aetherion to find you. They will come, Jayden. And when they do, the Vale will not withstand their fire."
The name Aetherion sent a chill through Jayden, though he did not know why. It felt like a word remembered from a dream, both foreign and familiar, heavy with meaning.
Thom finally spoke, his voice low. "Rest now, Kaelen. We'll speak more when you have strength."
But Jayden barely heard him. Aetherion. Enemies. A legacy written in his blood. The world he thought he knew was unraveling, and no matter how tightly he tried to cling to it, he felt it slipping away.
For the next two days, Kaelen drifted in and out of consciousness. When awake, he spoke little, though his few words weighed heavily. He spoke of a kingdom across the veil, where the elements were not forces to be feared but gifts to be mastered. He spoke of a war long ago, when those who sought to bind the elements to their will were cast out—but not destroyed. And he spoke of Jayden's family, though always his words grew guarded, as if the truth carried dangers even in being spoken.
Jayden listened, torn between awe and dread. Mira drank in every word, her curiosity unmasked, while Thom grew more grim with each passing tale.
On the third night, Jayden could no longer contain his questions. He found Kaelen awake, staring into the flames.
"You said you knew my mother," Jayden began, his voice barely above a whisper.
"What did you mean?"
Kaelen's gaze softened. "She was of Aetherion, born to the House of Veyra. Strong in the waters, fierce as the storm. When she crossed into this world, she left behind crown and duty, seeking peace. I
failed her when she needed me most. But I swore I would not fail her son."
Jayden's throat tightened. He had no memory of his parents, only Thom's rough care and the Vale's quiet rhythm. To hear of a mother who wielded storms as easily as he wielded a hammer was more than his mind could hold.
"Why me?" Jayden asked, his voice cracking. "I never asked for this. I never wanted it."
Kaelen's expression hardened. "Choice does not change truth. You are the heir of Veyra's line. Whether you wish it or not, the elements are yours to command. And others will seek to claim that power."
Before Jayden could reply, the night outside split with a distant cry. Not of man or beast, but something darker, sharper, echoing across the hills. Mira leapt to the window, her face pale. Thom's hand closed around the axe by the hearth.
Kaelen struggled upright, his eyes flashing silver.
"They've found you."
The attack came at dawn.
Shadows moved at the edge of the Vale, shapes too swift and silent to be men. The villagers awoke to screams as barns caught fire, flames licking high into the sky. Jayden stumbled into the yard, the heat of the blaze on his face, his heart thundering. Dark figures darted between the flames, their eyes glowing like embers.
"Inside!" Thom shouted, shoving Jayden back toward the cottage. But Jayden froze. The fire bent in unnatural ways, curling against the wind, hungering. It was alive. Controlled.
"Elementals," Kaelen hissed, leaning heavily on the doorframe. "Servants of the Exiled. They've come for you."
Jayden's blood turned cold. The fire roared, and yet beneath his fear, something stirred—an answering call, like the river before. His veins burned, his breath came ragged, and the flames seemed to lean toward him.
Mira grabbed his hand. "Jayden, what are you doing?!"
He didn't know. He only knew that if he did nothing, the Vale would burn. Jayden raised his hand.
The flames shuddered.
And for the first time, fire bent to his will.