The first thing Kael felt was darkness. Not the ordinary darkness that blanketed the night, but a void, an empty space that swallowed all sound, light, and sensation. He tried to move his fingers, but his body felt like a block of lead sinking to the bottom of the ocean. Somewhere far away, there was a faint echo of voices he couldn't distinguish, like shouts, running footsteps, and whistles blown repeatedly.
Then, slowly, came the pain.
The pain didn't attack all at once. It crept in like a rising tide flooding every corner of his body. First from his fingertips, then crawling up through his arms, wrapping around his ribs, and finally exploding in the center of his chest, right where his Aether channels originated. Kael wanted to scream, but his throat felt like it was filled with dry sand.
Light pierced through his closed eyelids. Not the light of magic, but the gently swaying light of a candle.
He opened his eyes.
A pale gray stone ceiling stared back at him. Fine cracks spread across its surface like the roots of an old tree. The air smelled of a mix of bitter herbs and oily ointment that reminded him of Aunt Helena's concoctions in Millbrook. Kael blinked several times, trying to focus his vision which was still swimming with spots.
He tried to lift his right hand. His muscles screamed in protest, as if his bones had been replaced with hot lead. The slightest movement triggered waves of pain echoing from his fingertips to his shoulder.
"Don't move yet."
The voice was heavy, firm, but there was a hidden gentleness behind it. Kael slowly turned his head to the left, wincing as his neck muscles cramped. Beside his bed, sitting on a wooden chair that looked too small for his body, Aldric Ironforge looked at him with eyes radiating a relief he didn't want to show.
"You've been sleeping for almost two full days," Aldric said, arms folded across his chest. "The clinic healers said your Aether channels were nearly burned out entirely. A little more, and you wouldn't have woken up at all."
Kael swallowed hard. His throat felt like sandpaper. "Two days?" his voice came out hoarse, barely audible.
Aldric nodded. The old man reached for a wooden cup from the bedside table and brought it to Kael's lips. Warm herbal water flowed in; its bitter taste made Kael wince, but he forced himself to swallow. The warmth of the liquid slowly eased the dryness in his throat.
"The monster in the forest," Kael said after a few gulps. "Marcus and the others—"
"Everyone is safe," Aldric cut in. He placed the cup back on the table. "Including that foolish Valerius boy. Thanks to you." A brief pause. Aldric's jaw hardened. "But that is not what you should be worrying about right now. You almost killed yourself, Kael."
Kael stared at the ceiling. The image of the red-eyed wooden monster flashed in his mind, along with the choking purple smoke and the trembling of the earth beneath his feet. His failure to channel his Aether right before the attack almost got his group killed.
Heir of dawn.
He gripped the thin blanket covering his body. His fingers trembled.
"What happened after I passed out?" Kael asked.
Aldric took a long breath, his voice like the wind blowing on nearly extinguished embers. "The instructors found you not long after your Aether explosion triggered alarms across the palace. The entire Simulation Forest was quarantined. Corvus and Lord Varen stepped in immediately." He paused, his eyes narrowing. "They found traces of Dark Aether in the monster's ashes, Kael. Not the ordinary mechanical Aether that animates the simulation dummies. It was pure Dark Aether. A real demonic entity managed to breach the defensive seals of the Simulation Forest."
Kael closed his eyes. The pain in his chest throbbed again, as if resonating with the memory of that darkness.
"How could that be?" he whispered, more to himself than to Aldric.
"That is what Lord Varen is investigating," Aldric answered. The tone of his voice grew heavier. "And believe me, boy, the palace has never been this tense since the news of Ironhold's fall."
Erik came in the late afternoon, bringing a bowl of warm oat porridge and a forced smile.
"You look terrible," Erik said, placing the bowl on the bedside table. He pulled up a chair and sat, his eyes sweeping over the bandages wrapping Kael's right shoulder and arm. "Though, I must admit, you look much better than two days ago. Back then, your skin was pale as a corpse."
"Thanks for the compliment," Kael said flatly. He tried to sit up, gritting his teeth as his ribs sharply protested. Erik moved quickly, supporting Kael's back with his hand and slipping an extra pillow behind him.
"Slow down, idiot," Erik grumbled. "The healers said your Aether channels were swollen like a river forced to hold the ocean. You need total rest for at least a week."
Kael accepted the bowl of porridge from Erik. His hands were still shaking, but he forced himself to hold the spoon. A tormenting hunger overtook his stomach as the aroma of warm oats hit his nose, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in two days.
"What happened with the final trial?" Kael asked between bites.
Erik scratched the back of his head. "Canceled. Everything. All recruits were pulled back to the barracks as soon as the alarm sounded. Sergeant Brok nearly lost his mind when he saw the ashes of that monster and your Aether still burning the grass around you." Erik gulped, his smile fading. "Kael, I don't know what you did in that forest, but some recruits who saw your light from a distance said it was like a small sun exploding in the middle of the woods. Everyone is talking about you."
Kael stopped mid-bite. "I don't want to be talked about."
"Too late for that," Erik said in a half-joking, half-anxious tone. "The entire recruit class knows your name now. And not just them." He lowered his voice. "The palace higher-ups too. Lord Varen, Magister Corvus, even King Aldric II purportedly asked about the incident in the Simulation Forest personally."
The throbbing pain in Kael's chest felt stronger. Not because of Aether depletion, but because of the burden of unwanted attention. He only wanted to be a soldier strong enough to protect those around him, not to become the topic of palace gossip.
"What about Marcus?" Kael asked, changing the subject.
Erik's face turned serious. "That's... a complicated story." He sighed. "His two lackeys already confessed that Marcus manipulated the trial route and set up the steel wire trap to harm you. Sergeant Brok reported it directly to Lord Varen."
"The punishment?"
"Not officially decided yet. But Marcus himself..." Erik paused, choosing his words carefully. "His mind is shattered, Kael. He keeps babbling about shadows swallowing him. Sitting in the corner of his barracks, hugging his knees. His eyes are blank. Some people say he hasn't slept at all, waking up screaming every time he closes his eyes." Erik looked at Kael. "I've seen faces like that among the Thornwood refugees. That is the face of a person whose soul is fractured."
Kael put down his spoon. His appetite vanished. He remembered Marcus freezing before the monster, a marble statue of arrogance crumbling instantly when faced with real terror. Marcus was a nobleman's son who, in his entire life, had never faced true darkness. His hatred toward Kael, his sabotage—all of it was born of an arrogance never tested by reality. And reality had come in the form of a red-eyed monster that nearly crushed his bones.
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"He saw a real demon for the first time," Kael said quietly.
Erik nodded slowly. "And you saved his life."
Silence blanketed them for a moment. From outside the clinic window, they could faintly hear the sounds of patrols marching more tightly than usual and loud orders being shouted in the distance.
At night, when the clinic had grown quiet and only two healers stood guard in the front room, Kael was awakened by the sound of almost soundless footsteps.
Moonlight streamed in through the narrow window in the stone wall, illuminating the room in pale silver. He sensed someone's presence before his eyes managed to catch the figure—a subtle warmth touching the edge of his consciousness, like the morning sun warming the skin through thin glass.
A hooded figure stood in the doorway of his room. The cloak was simple, dark blue, the kind of loose garment often worn by townspeople at night, not a conspicuous official robe. She entered soundlessly, closing the door carefully behind her. Her extended hand emitted a soft golden glow, too faint for ordinary eyes, but Kael could feel it. Light Aether. And not just any Light Aether.
The figure stepped closer carefully, unaware that Kael was already awake. The glowing hand slowly moved over the wounds on Kael's shoulder, channeling warm and soothing healing energy. The throbbing pain in Kael's joints slowly eased, replaced by a sensation like warm water flowing gently through his veins.
Kael didn't move. He let his eyes open slightly, observing through his eyelashes. When the figure leaned down slightly to check the bandages on his arm, the moonlight caught a strand of hair that escaped from her hood, a golden strand shining silver under the moonlight.
Elara.
He wanted to say something, but his tongue turned to stone. Elara, if it truly was her, continued channeling her healing energy with full concentration, her lips moving soundlessly, whispering something that sounded like an ancient prayer. The light in her hand pulsed softly in rhythm with her breathing, and Kael could feel how his swollen Aether channels slowly shrank, easing the tormenting pressure.
Several minutes passed in silence. Finally, the hooded figure withdrew her hand. The healing light slowly extinguished. She stood still for a moment, looking at Kael's face as he feigned sleep, then turned and walked out soundlessly.
The door closed softly. The trace of Light Aether's warmth still lingered in the air, and Kael opened his eyes fully, staring at the empty ceiling with a thousand questions buzzing in his head. His pain wasn't completely gone, his Aether channels still felt like hot wires stretched too tight, but the heaviest pressure had been lifted.
He raised his right hand. The trembling was much reduced compared to this afternoon.
The next morning, two soldiers in ceremonial palace uniforms came to the clinic. They brought a message that Lord Varen was waiting for him in the west wing of the palace as soon as possible. Kael looked at the bandage on his shoulder, which had shrunk. A wound that an ordinary healer said would take weeks, now only left a faint sting. He didn't tell anyone about Elara's visit last night. Kael got out of bed with careful movements. His body still felt like it was made of glass that could crack at any moment, but his feet could step on the stone floor without swaying. The clinic healer protested, but Kael gave him a flat look that stopped the old man's argument before it could develop.
Aldric was already waiting for him outside the clinic, leaning against a stone pillar with folded arms. The man frowned seeing Kael walk out.
"You should still be in bed," he said sharply.
"The palace called," Kael answered briefly.
Aldric snorted. "The palace can wait until you can walk without looking like a frail old man with bone disease." But he still fell into step beside Kael, adjusting his slow pace, ready to support if the young man stumbled.
They walked through the stone corridors of the Valdorian palace, filled with morning light. Kael noticed the striking change in atmosphere: the number of guards at every intersection had doubled, and the guard formations on the watchtowers seemed much tighter than usual. Several palace mages knelt along the outer walls, their hands glowing faintly as they reinforced the defensive seals carved into the stone. Their faces were tense, taking turns bearing the heavy magical load.
"Since the incident in the Simulation Forest, Valdoria's entire defenses are being re-examined," Aldric said, as if reading Kael's mind. "If one demon could infiltrate a training facility in the heart of the city, then other seals might have already been breached."
Kael didn't answer. Every step brought a slow throb of pain to his chest, but his mind was focused on the words he couldn't get out of his head since he woke up.
Heir of dawn.
That demonic entity didn't just attack him. It knew Kael. It hunted Kael specifically. And that whisper, along with the title, wasn't just the random babbling of a mindless monster. There was intent behind it. There was ancient knowledge.
The west wing meeting room was a room Kael had never visited before. Its ceiling arched high, supported by stone pillars carved with ancient Aether symbols. A long dark wood table dominated the center, and on it was spread a large map of Teranthos filled with red tactical markers.
Magister Corvus was already standing at the end of the table, his dark robe sweeping the floor. Opposite him, Lord Varen sat with stiff posture, his fingers tapping the table surface in an impatient rhythm. Several other senior officers stood at the edges of the room, their faces hard and alert.
Aldric escorted Kael inside, then took a position behind him—not as a superior, but as a guard. At the circular stone table in the center of the room, the two men were waiting. Magister Corvus's sharp eyes swept the young man's body from head to toe, assessing his condition. "I trust you are sufficiently recovered to speak."
"I can speak, Magister," Kael answered. His voice was still slightly hoarse, but his gaze was upright. He didn't sit down, even though every joint in his body begged for a seat.
Lord Varen raised a hand, cutting off the pleasantries. "Let's get straight to it." His voice was cold and efficient, like a scalpel. "Kael, tell us in detail what you experienced in the Simulation Forest. From the moment you realized something was wrong, until the moment you lost consciousness. Leave nothing out."
Kael recounted everything, starting from his failure to control his Aether to the shadow's whisper. When he mentioned the final whisper regarding the title heir of dawn, the silence that descended upon the room felt heavier than metal.
Corvus and Lord Varen exchanged glances. A wordless communication that lasted for several long seconds.
"You are certain of those words?" Corvus asked, his voice lower than usual. "Heir of dawn. Not an interpretation, not a guess. You heard it directly?"
"Directly inside my head," Kael answered. "Like a whisper that didn't come from the air."
Lord Varen leaned his back against the chair. His fingers stopped tapping the table. For the first time since Kael had known him, the Supreme Commander seemed extremely cautious, holding back his cold calculations and letting the shadows of genuine concern clearly show in his eyes.
"Magister," Lord Varen said, looking at Corvus. "The report from Ironhold stated that the Shadow Knight also uttered a similar phrase. They were 'waiting for someone more suitable.' Now, a demonic entity calls this boy the 'heir of dawn.' This is no coincidence."
Corvus nodded slowly. "The Valerius prophecy," he murmured, as if the word had its own weight on his tongue, the weight of a thousand years of waiting. He looked at Kael with a new gaze. "I've suspected it for a long time since you enlisted. Your pure talent for Light Aether is exceptionally rare, and your origins from Greenwood, the very place where Dark Aether activity first surged a decade ago. It is no coincidence." He looked at Kael with an intensity that made the young man want to step back. "However, if the demonic side itself confirms the existence of the 'heir of dawn,' then the prophecy is no longer just a fairy tale."
Kael felt the floor beneath his feet shift, even though nothing had moved. The throbbing pain in his chest pounded hard again. "I am not the heir of anything," he said, his voice low and firm. "I am a recruit. A farmer's son from Greenwood."
"Origins do not determine destiny," Corvus said, his tone unchanging. "And your Light Aether proves that there is something extraordinary within you, regardless of how you perceive it."
Kael returned to the clinic in silence. Aldric walked beside him, saying nothing. Their footsteps echoed softly in the stone corridor bathed in golden afternoon light.
After a while, Aldric finally spoke. "You know," he said, his voice quieter than usual, "I've seen soldiers much more experienced than you broken by burdens like this. Prophecies, the expectations of the higher-ups, the gaze of the entire palace. That can kill a person more certainly than an enemy's sword."
Kael looked straight ahead. "I don't care about prophecies."
"Good." Aldric stopped walking, looking at Kael with hard but warm eyes, a look he rarely gave to anyone. "Use your time to rest. Because once your channels recover, you won't have time to breathe again. Fight for the people you love. That is more than enough."
Kael stood still. Aldric's words resonated with something planted deep at the base of his soul, an echo of the philosophy passed down by his father years ago under the Greenwood sky. True strength is protecting the ones you love.
He nodded. Not a polite nod, but the nod of someone who had found his footing again in the midst of a storm that had not yet subsided.
As they re-entered the clinic, Kael noticed that someone had left something on his bedside table while he was gone. A fresh herbal compress wrapped in clean white cloth, and beside it, a small sprig of chamomile flower still wet with dew. No note. No name.
However, in the air, there still lingered a faint trace of the warmth of Light Aether he recognized so well.
Kael sat on the edge of his bed, picked up the chamomile flower, and held it between his rough fingers—a small reminder of hope amidst the darkness that was beginning to close in. Something other than pain and worry felt real in his chest; a simple warmth, yet capable of pushing back the darkness even if just a little.
Outside the clinic window, the sun was setting behind the walls of Valdoria. Twilight shadows crawled across the stone floor. And somewhere out there, beyond the walls whose seals were frantically being reinforced, the darkness waited with a patience honed over a thousand years.
— To be continued in Chapter 15 —