Time did not exist where Isyra took him.
In that realm, days folded into years, and years dissolved into centuries. The sky never aged, and the ground never changed, yet Anthonio changed with every breath.
Isyra did not rush him. She stripped him down first—of fear, of instinct, of wild emotion.
"Power does not begin with force," she told him. "It begins with listening."
She taught him Breath of the World—how to still his heartbeat until the wind itself answered him. Not by command, but by consent. He learned to bend air currents, to soften storms, to let hurricanes pass without destruction.
Next came Vein of the Deep. She led him into endless waters and showed him how to feel the pull beneath rivers and oceans. He learned to raise water without summoning floods, to walk through currents untouched, to hear what water remembered.
Then came Pulse of the Mantle.
This lesson nearly killed him.
She showed him how divine power moved through blood, how mortal flesh resisted it, and how vessels shattered when strength was taken without discipline. She forced him to channel power in measured breaths, sealing it within himself instead of letting it consume him.
"You are not the storm," she warned. "You are the sky that holds it."
After this, Isyra began teaching him the mind.
First, Mind Reading.
She taught him how thoughts leave echoes—how emotions ripple louder than words. He learned to quiet his own thoughts so he could hear others, to separate truth from noise, memory from intention. She warned him never to pry carelessly.
"A mind is sacred ground," she said. "Step lightly, or you will be lost within it."
Then came Mind Bending—far more dangerous.
She taught him how influence works, how a voice can sink into another's will, how suggestion becomes command. She showed him how to test resistance without breaking it, how domination scars both the controller and the controlled.
"You must never rule minds for desire," she warned. "Once you cross that line, you become less than mortal."
She made him swear never to abuse it.
Then she taught him the Binding Laws, ancient rules etched into the mantle itself:
No bearer may be slain by intent alone.
Any weapon raised in malice against the mantle will turn upon its wielder.
Power stolen poisons the soul. Power inherited demands sacrifice.
Finally, she taught him Listening Beyond Time—how echoes of life and death traveled across realms.
It was during this lesson that Anthonio felt it.
A pull.
A fading warmth.
His father.
He gasped and rose from meditation, the waters around him rippling violently.
"My father," he whispered. "He's calling me."
Isyra turned sharply. "You cannot return. Not yet."
"I have to," he said. "Something is wrong."
"You do not understand what waits for you," she warned.
"I don't care."
Before she could stop him, the realm shattered—and he was gone.
BEFORE ANTHONIO'S RETURN
Back in the mortal world, Anthian lay weak upon his bed.
Angelo sat beside him, cleaning his body with trembling hands, wiping sweat from his brow, adjusting the cloth beneath him.
Her face was tight with anger, not grief.
"This sickness," she muttered, "it is because of him."
Anthian stirred weakly. "Angelo…"
"You brought Anthonio into this world," she said sharply. "He is the cause of all this."
Anthian's voice shook as he struggled to breathe.
"Angelo… when will you change?"
She stiffened, her hands stilling for only a moment.
"It is because of him," she insisted, her voice trembling with bitterness. "Ever since he left, everything has fallen apart. He cursed this house. He cursed you."
Anthian closed his eyes, pain crossing his face.
Still, Angelo did not stop.
"Even now," she whispered harshly, "he is destroying us."
Her resentment did not fade—not even as death crept closer.
Anthonio returned believing only three days had passed.
He did not know three thousand years had burned away beyond the veil.
The house felt wrong the moment he stepped inside.
The air was thin. Heavy.
Then he saw his father.
Anthian lay pale upon the bed, his skin dimmed, his breath shallow. His chest barely moved.
Anthonio froze.
Then he fell to his knees.
"Father…" His voice broke. "I'm sorry."
He crawled closer, clutching his father's trembling hand.
"I didn't know," he whispered desperately. "I thought I was gone only days. I would never have stayed away so long."
Anthian's clouded eyes softened—not with anger, but understanding.
"Then… she has begun your awakening," he murmured.
"No," Anthonio said, shaking his head. "I came back the moment I felt you. Please—don't leave me."
"You returned when I needed you most," Anthian said weakly. "The mantle must not perish with me."
A soft light bloomed from his chest.
"I name it Aurelion," he whispered. "The strength of our bloodline. Our will. Our curse."
The light surged into Anthonio.
Agony ripped through him.
Every lesson Isyra had taught him barely kept his body intact. Without them, he would have shattered instantly. He screamed as divine fire burned through his veins.
Then darkness swallowed him whole.
Anthian lifted his face to the heavens.
"My duty is fulfilled."
His body dissolved into light and cloud, vanishing as thunder gathered above the house.
Anthonio awoke beside the river.
Cold. Empty.
Isyra stood over him, calm and unreadable.
"What just happened?" he asked weakly. "Where's my father?"
"He has gone to face judgment."
"No," Anthonio whispered. "He can't die yet."
"You can't change fate, Anthonio."
He collapsed to his knees as rain began to fall.
"There's no need crying over spilled milk," Isyra murmured. "He is dead already."
He looked up, rage breaking through his grief.
"How can you say that? Do you feel nothing?"
"Feelings fade when you've watched centuries of loss."
He noticed her arm had began fading as he stared at the river
He quickly got up as fright gripped his entire face .
"What's happening"he asked with his voice shaking.
Her body began to shimmer.
"Our time ends when the curse breaks."
"The curse has been broken," she continued softly. "Thank you, Anthonio.
She scattered into golden dust, carried away by rain and wind.
He quickly rushed to touch her but her ashes despersed already
"No!"he yelled heartbroken he was already getting use to her.
Anthonio returned home looking devastated,
He walked back home,the house felt colder.
A shadow moved behind him.
Steel flashed.
He turned and caught Angelo's wrist mid-strike.
"Mother?" he whispered.
Her eyes burned. "I am not your mother."
"Please," he begged.
"I would rather die," she hissed, "than see you live!"
The dagger twisted in her grip.
The Binding Law worked instantly as
the blade reversed.
"No!" Anthonio cried.
The dagger drove into her chest.
She collapsed into his arms, blood spilling from her lips.
The door burst open.
Azel froze.
Blood.
The dagger.
His mother dead.
He looked at Anthonio in horror, Angelo lay cold in his body as he stared motionlessly,dagger still on his hands.Everything his mother said began to make sense to him .
Azel descended into the hidden vault beneath the mountains.
There lay the Sacred Blade of Severance, forbidden to all.
It burned his hands.
But grief burned hotter.
When he returned, Anthonio was still kneeling, unmoving, holding his mother's body.
Azel did not speak.
He drove the blade into Anthonio's chest.
The pain was not physical.
It was betrayal.
"You…" Anthonio whispered as tears fell. "You were the only one I had left."
He fell as memories from azel's childhood flooded his head .
He vividly reminisced cuddling the little boy to sleep,how to eat and how to walk .
The mantle dimmed as his eyes shut .
Azel carried him into the forgotten cave as he placed his body in a tomb,on its body he carved the curse in the Old Celestial Tongue:
Enkai lor'math silen drak'thar,
Voro'sha ental morna.
Eshra'nai vel torren.
Anthonio se'khar doom.
Which meant;
No light shall find you.
No breath shall recall you.
Bound between dust and shadow,
Until fate is broken by blood.
The tomb pulsed once.
As if something still lived,Azel staggered away as blood dripped down his hands.