Elira had experienced fear before—the bitter, wind-battering terror when the Soul-Bond first ignited on her skin, the suffocating weight of eyes that hated her, the nauseating shiver of Kael's void magic skating over her soul. But this was not like that.
This was old. Cold. Profound.
Something had awakened beneath Arcanis Academy.
Even as they emerged from the underground chamber—Kael holding her hand too hard, his face empty—the sound of that voice still resonated in her bones.
You are not yet ready,
"What was that thing?" Elira panted when they were alone, a few feet beyond the ancient tunnels. The moon illuminated the garden ruins in silver, and mist clung to the stones like a held breath.
Kael did not answer at once. He swiveled his head like he was expecting someone—or something—to arrive. Then he spoke, low and dark, "A Rift Warden. Or what remains of one."
Elira blinked. "What's that?"
"They were the protectors of the spaces between worlds," Kael said, voice tightly restrained. "Before kingdoms, before magic academies, before even the five Great Houses, the Rifts between worlds used to rip open. These Wardens kept them sealed."
"But that thing. it said I wasn't ready."
Kael's eyes met hers. "It also set you free. That's the real message."
They moved silently, the fog curling at their ankles like snakes from the abyss. Elira felt her magic stirring sluggishly under her skin—glinting light trying to make sense of the shadows they had found. The branding on her chest pulsed softly.
When he came to her dorm, Kael drew back. He did not accompany her home. That slight departure unsettled her.
"Don't tell me something," she told him.
Kael's shoulders went taut. "The Council sent someone. An Observer. They've already arrived."
Elira's heart dropped into icy water and trickled cold down the back of her neck. "Here? Why?"
He looked at her, darkness sliding over his face. "They've caught a spike of Rift energy. From our bonding."
"You mean from me."
"I mean both of us," he clarified. "But yes. They're aware your magic is. changing. They're aware something ancient is linked to it."
Elira fell onto the edge of the fountain. Her head reeled. "They'll want to study me."
"Or regulate you. Or kill you."
Her stomach clenched. "What do we do, then?"
Kael's eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight. "We train. More than ever. We find out what your power really is—and how to master it before they decide it's too dangerous to leave unchecked."
---
The next day at Arcanis Academy dawned bright, but unease buzzed in the air. Whispers of magical disturbances had run through the school. Students whispered. Professors gazed up at the sky.
And a stranger stood at the front of Elira's classroom.
She recognized him instantly—sharp features, silver robes marked with the Council's sigil, a single black ring glowing faintly on his gloved finger.
"Students," Professor Marell said tightly, "this is Inquisitor Dalen. He will be observing our next few lessons on magical theory."
Dalen's eyes swept the room. When they landed on Elira, he didn't blink. "Continue as if I'm not here," he said smoothly. "I simply watch."
But his gaze never wavered from hers.
Every question Marell asked, Elira felt Dalen's intense stare. She flinched when her pen started to glow with a strange silver light. She heard whispers behind her:
"Is she the one matched with Kael?"
"I heard she lit up the dueling grounds with void fire."
"No, it was light magic—opposite of his. That makes her dangerous."
Elira gritted her teeth and focused. But inside, there was war. Her magic had become tied to her mood now. She needed to keep herself calm.
The lesson over, Dalen cut directly in front of her.
"Elira Thorne. Would you mind coming with me for a quick assessment?"
Kael, behind her, rose to his feet like a sheathed knife. "She does not need to follow."
Dalen's smile was so fine it cut like a knife. "I have been granted sole authority."
"It's fine," Elira said quickly. Her heart thundered, but she couldn't show fear. "I'll go."
---
Dalen led her to one of the Council's observation rooms—clinical, cold, laced with glowing runes. A magical field shimmered between them.
"Place your hand on the scrying crystal," he instructed.
She obeyed. The orb pulsed—then exploded with light. Threads of gold and violet streamed through the room.
Dalen stepped back, visibly startled. "Impossible."
What is it?" Elira's breath was taken.
"You possess two affinities. Not one. Light. and another I don't know." He regarded her, his gaze intense. "Where were you born?"
She faltered. "Velthar's Reach, a village."
His lips thinned. "That region once belonged to the stronghold of the Aetherion bloodline."
Elira stiffened. "But they're extinct.".
"Or so we thought." Dalen moved closer. "Tell me, have you ever been. drawn to ancient sites? Heard whispers others have not?"
She swallowed. "Yes."
He looked into her eyes, something akin to awe—and terror—in his own. "If you are Aetherion. the prophecy might be nearer to coming true than we imagined."
Elira took a step back. "I'm not some prophecy."
"Perhaps not," he replied. "But the Void Prince is. And he selected you."
---
When Elira finally walked out of the Observer's test room, her head throbbed with questions.
Kael waited for her outside. He didn't say anything—just grasped her hand.
"You felt it, didn't you?" she breathed.
Once, he nodded. "They're not simply observing anymore. They're calculating."
Elira leaned against him, catching her breath. "He said I could be Aetherion."
Kael remained quiet for a moment. Then, "That would explain the light magic. And the draw to old locations. Your family might be what's holding the prophecy to this world again."
"Why me?"
He looked down at her. "Because strength doesn't strike in the secure ones. It beckons to those who will fight."
Elira took that in.
She was no longer the helpless girl hanging around the gates of Arcanis.
She was fire and flame. Storm and enigma.
And the war that whispered from the shadows was coming sooner than anyone had imagined.
---
That night, she dreamed.
She stood in a realm of silver haze, where stars shone like lanterns in a sky-shattered expanse. A figure wrapped in tattered light emerged—half god, half recollection.
"Elira Thorne," it spoke. "The Rift stirs. The soul-bond persists, but not for much longer."
She stretched out. "Who are you?"
"I am the one who could not stop it sooner. You are the one who can perhaps still win."
The figure extended a shard of clean light.
"When the moment is right, do not choose between Void and Light. but between fear and courage."
And the dream melted into starlight.
-