The Vale was still sleeping when Jayden began to walk.
He did not wait for dawn. The sky was a deep indigo, thin mist curling through the blackened fields, carrying the scent of ash and soil. Every step away from the village echoed faintly, like a whisper asking him to turn back. But he did not. He couldn't. His oath had been spoken, and there was no breaking it.
The dagger Kaelen had given him hung at his side, faintly warm even through the cloth of his belt. Its glow was gone for now, but he could feel the pulse of its presence — steady, alive. Like a heartbeat that wasn't his.
Kaelen followed in silence, his old boots crunching softly on the charred earth. The old man had said nothing since the ceremony, and Jayden didn't ask. There was nothing left to say. Words would only break the fragile calm that hung between them.
They passed the border of the farmlands, where the soil turned to rock and the air grew colder. Ahead, faint light began to paint the horizon — not the soft gold of morning, but a strange, pale shimmer that seemed to come from the earth itself.
Jayden finally broke the silence. "Do you think they'll forgive me?"
Kaelen didn't answer right away. He lifted his gaze toward the faint outline of the mountains in the distance. "Forgiveness is a fragile thing," he said at last. "But time changes many hearts. Perhaps one day, they'll remember what you did more than what you are."
Jayden nodded, though the words did little to ease the ache inside him. "And Mira?" he asked quietly. "She didn't even say goodbye."
"She would have," Kaelen said gently. "But she knew it would break her. You'll see her again, Jayden. The paths of fate rarely end where they begin."
They walked until the sun climbed over the ridges, pale and cold. The Vale was far behind now — just a faint blur beneath the fog. Ahead, the land began to change. The trees were taller here, their bark lined with veins of silver light. The ground shimmered faintly, as if the morning dew had turned to glass. Even the air hummed, a low, steady vibration that made the hair on Jayden's arms rise.
"This isn't normal," Jayden murmured.
Kaelen's eyes gleamed. "No. We're near the border."
"The border of what?"
"Of everything you've never known."
They came to a gorge cut deep into the earth, its walls smooth as if carved by the hand of something ancient. At its center was a narrow bridge of stone, and beyond it — mist.
Endless, shifting mist that glowed faintly from within, the color of starlight reflected on water.
Kaelen stopped before the bridge. "This is where the two worlds touch," he said. "The last breath of the mortal realm, and the first whisper of Aetherion."
Jayden stared at the mist. It wasn't just fog — it moved like something alive. Shapes flickered within it, too quick to catch: shadows, faces, glimmers of light that felt like memories half-remembered. "That's the Gate?"
"Yes," Kaelen said. "The Gate of Veils. Few mortals ever see it. Fewer still survive passing through."
Jayden frowned. "Survive?"
"The Gate tests you," Kaelen said. "It doesn't open for those who hide from truth. Whatever you fear most, it will show you. And if you turn from it, it will take you."
Jayden swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the shimmering fog. "And you think I'm ready for that?"
Kaelen smiled faintly. "No one is ever ready. But ready or not, it's your path now."
The mist rippled as if hearing their voices. The hum in the air grew stronger, vibrating through the bridge beneath their feet. Jayden felt his pulse quicken. His fire — that strange, restless heat in his chest — stirred.
"What do I do?" he asked quietly.
Kaelen placed a hand on his shoulder. "Step forward. And remember — the fire is part of you, but it doesn't define you. Let it guide, not consume."
Jayden nodded, took a breath, and stepped onto the bridge.
The air thickened instantly. Every sound dulled except the pounding of his own heartbeat. He took one more step — and the world fell away.
He was standing in the Vale again.
But it wasn't real. The air was wrong — too hot, too still. Smoke filled the sky, and the ground beneath his boots was cracked and dry. The houses were burning. The same nightmare as before. He heard screaming, and then he saw her.
Mira.
She stood in the square, her hair tangled with ash, her hands clutching something that dripped with blood. Her eyes found his — and they were filled with betrayal.
"You left us," she whispered, her voice trembling like a child's. "You said you'd protect us."
"I— I didn't mean—" Jayden took a step forward, but the ground split open between them. From the cracks, fire poured upward, twisting around his feet, rising, laughing.
"You did this," the voices hissed. "Your power brings ruin. You can't save anyone."
The fire crawled up his legs, burning without pain but filling him with dread. He tried to call his power, to push it back — but it didn't listen. It only grew, rising higher, devouring the Vale.
Mira's voice cut through the roar. "You're not our savior, Jayden. You're the fire that kills us all."
He fell to his knees, shaking. The flames rose to his chest, his throat, his eyes. Every breath was heat and guilt. He closed his fists, shaking. "No… no, I'm not!"
The fire howled back at him, a thousand voices laughing. "You cannot command what you do not accept."
And then, suddenly, he understood.
The fire wasn't his enemy. It wasn't something to be chained or fought. It was part of him — wild, dangerous, alive — but part of him all the same. To deny it was to lose to it.
He pressed his hand over his heart. "I am not your slave," he whispered. "I am your voice."
The fire paused. The laughter stopped. The flames that clung to him flickered, then began to draw inward, folding into his chest like a tide returning to sea.
The vision blurred, the burning Vale melting away.
Light burst from beneath his skin — white and gold, clean and fierce. The mist around him shattered like glass.
And just like that, he was through.
He stumbled forward and fell to his knees, gasping. The world around him was… impossible.
The air shimmered like glass dust. The sky was not blue but a shifting sea of color — pale green and violet and gold. Mountains floated in the distance, suspended by invisible winds. Rivers of light wound through forests of crystal trees. The ground beneath him hummed, warm and alive.
Aetherion.
He'd thought Kaelen was exaggerating. He wasn't.
The old man stepped through the mist a moment later, leaning on his staff, smiling faintly. "You made it," he said. "The Gate has judged you worthy."
Jayden looked around in awe. "This… this is where my family came from?"
Kaelen nodded. "And where your destiny begins."
Jayden stood slowly. He could still feel the fire under his skin, but it no longer burned. It moved with him now, like breath.
"What now?" he asked.
Kaelen's eyes turned toward the distant mountains. "Now we find the truth. And those who would see it silenced."
Jayden followed his gaze. The mountains seemed to whisper, their peaks crowned with silver mist. Somewhere beyond them, he could sense it — a pull, faint but sure. Something calling to him.
He clenched his hand around the dagger's hilt. Its runes pulsed once, as if in answer.
"Then let's find it," he said quietly.
They set off across the glass plains, two figures small against an endless horizon. Behind them, the Gate shimmered once more — then faded, leaving no trace.
The Vale was gone. The world he knew was gone.
And ahead waited a land of fire and memory — and the beginning of everything he was meant to become.