THE AETHERBORN

Thorne shut his book with a sigh that carried the weight of the entire lecture. Professor Lysandre's deep, sonorous voice still echoed through the vaulted stone dome of the lecture hall, layered with sigils that resonated faintly with pulsing light. The Laws of Aetheric Balance was one of the more conceptual classes, no chants, no wandwork, just ideas and consequences.

The Laws of Aetheric Balance was supposed to be the most theory-heavy course of the semester, and Thorne could see why, he felt like he'd just wrestled a fogbank for two hours and somehow lost.

Aether equilibrium, ley-line drift, long-term magical erosion, most of it made sense to Thorne, but only in that detached, this-could-destroy-a-city-one-day kind of way. The parts that stuck with him were the ones he'd lived: how magical overuse could create invisible vacuums, how unstable ley-lines had swallowed whole temples. It explained things he hadn't had words for, back in Alvar, when strange ripples in the air made aether constructs appear out of nowhere or people suddenly unlocked skills out of the blue.

He stood up with a sigh feeling surprisingly well. The potion Isadora had slipped him the night before had done wonders. Not a scratch remained, not a bruise nor burn. His ribs had fully mended, and the deep gash across his thigh, the one that had nearly clipped bone, was nothing more than a faint pink line. She hadn't said what was in that potion, and he hadn't asked, but whatever apothecary she used was worth more than gold.

Unfortunately, recovery came with its own complications.

As he moved toward the exit, slinging his satchel over his shoulder, he felt the weight of too many eyes tracking his steps.

The common room had been bad enough that morning, all those muttered guesses and speculative whispers, but now even in the halls, Umbra students darted glances at him and quickly looked away. A few tried to look casual, flipping through notebooks or pretending to fiddle with their wands. News travels fast, he thought grimly. And Umbra students? Faster.

He passed two beastkin students from Umbra as they were packing up, and their murmurs stopped abruptly. They were still whispering about him. And not just the Umbra students this time, he'd caught fleeting stares from Ignis and Zephyrus alike. The whispers had started in the common room that morning, quick and speculative. By his second class, the rumor mill was in full swing.

By the third, Elias had heard.

Predictably, he hadn't shut up since.

"Alright, so what did happen last night?" Elias asked, falling into step beside him with a sly grin. "You disappear. You show up with blood on your face and half a uniform. People say you crashed through the ceiling riding a wyvern made of flame."

Thorne gave him a flat look. "That's… creative."

"Which part's false?"

"The flame wyvern."

"So you did crash through something?"

"Elias…"

Elias leaned in conspiratorially. "You were glowing. And not in your usual 'divine murder-elf' way. I mean nuclear. You looked like a blessed revenant. A sexy blessed revenant, but still. What happened?"

Thorne resisted the urge to shove him into a suit of animated armor as they passed. Instead, he offered an easy smile, one he knew full well gave nothing away.

"Nothing happened."

"Oh come on," Elias groaned. "That's your third 'nothing' today. I heard about your uniform. I heard Isadora dragged you to her room. People say she bathed you in wine."

Thorne paused just long enough to raise a brow. "That sounds like your fantasy, not mine."

"I mean, I'm not not into that."

"You ask too many questions."

"So," Elias said, falling into step beside him, "are you gonna spill, or do I have to keep making things up?"

Thorne didn't look at him. "Why break tradition? You're clearly enjoying it."

"I heard you fought a wyvern."

"I tripped on a root."

"A flaming root that screamed in ancient tongues?"

Thorne exhaled, then pivoted, fast.

"Hey, what was that thing Lysandre said about ley-lines overlapping and forming aether blisters? You think there's one under the gardens? It would explain the weird smell."

Elias blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, seriously? You think that's an aether blister?"

"I mean," Thorne said, walking faster, "if Lysandre's right, it could destabilize half the courtyard."

"You're messing with me."

"Am I?" Thorne shrugged. "Would explain the professor always walking in circles there."

Elias stared at him, squinting like he was trying to crack a code. Then he groaned. "You can't be serious."

Thorne smiled.

Skill Level up! Tactful Deflection: 12 → 13

Almost on cue, Elias frowned and scratched his chin. "Wait, what were we talking about?"

"Nothing important."

They moved through one of Aetherhold's hanging walkways, the wind tugging at their cloaks. Below them, clouds swirled lazily, pierced here and there by violet spires of distant towers.

Elias squinted at him sideways. "Alright then, changing topics. Where are you going now? We've got a free period. I was thinking breakfast round two. Maybe find that elf girl with the hair thing or maybe sneak into the south gardens and sunbathe."

"I'm looking for Rowenna," Thorne said.

That drew a full stop. Elias actually paused mid-step. "...Why?"

Thorne kept walking. "Because she knows the school inside out. She might be able to help with something."

"With what?" Elias asked, catching up quickly. "I mean, sure, she's got a creepy brain and all, but are you sure you want to face her wrath? She is probably somewhere spitting fire, or insults."

Thorne rubbed his temples. "You ask too many questions for this early in the day."

Elias grinned. "You like that about me."

"Not in the slightest."

They turned down another corridor, the polished stone whispering with soft enchantments beneath their boots. Students passed in twos and threes, some levitating books beside them, others conjuring tiny floating diagrams of spell matrices in mid-air.

Elias stuffed his hands behind his head. "You really think she'll help?"

Thorne didn't answer right away. He didn't know why he was being so stubborn about this, but something about the past two days, the Empire's offer, Varo's letter, the fight in the forest, all of it had shaken something loose in him. Rowenna might be uptight, prickly, and annoyingly private, but she knew things. More than she should, really. And right now, Thorne needed knowledge.

Any edge would do.

Even if it came with glowers and snide remarks.

Elias grumbled beside him. "Fine, go talk to your walking encyclopedia. I'll be in the courtyard. Don't blame me if I vanish under a ley-line blister."

Thorne didn't bother replying.

He just kept walking, eyes already scanning the next hallway.

It took Thorne three different wrong turns, a narrow staircase, and interrogating half a dozen Aegis students before he finally found someone who had seen Rowenna. She was in one of the smaller libraries on the second floor, they'd said, the one tucked behind the Hall of Statutes, near the conservatory gardens. Apparently, she had a "usual spot."

Thorne slipped inside the narrow, arched door and immediately understood why. The library wasn't large, it felt more like a book-filled cavern, but it brimmed with an almost reverent stillness. Books filled every conceivable space. Shelves climbed the walls like stone ivy, squeezing into the tightest corners, stacked two or three layers deep. Even the window frames held enchanted volumes that floated in rotating rings of silent script.

Between the cluttered shelves were reading nooks, writing desks, and plush armchairs where students hunched with furrowed brows and frantically scribbling quills. No one spoke. Even breathing felt like a disruption.

And there she was.

Half-buried under a tower of tomes that made her look like she was studying in a fortress of paper. Her face was partially hidden behind a thick hardcover titled Dynastic Convergence and the Arcane Statecraft of Ilinovar. Another tome sat precariously close to her elbow: Warding the Throne: Ritual Magic in Royal Lineage Protection.

Thorne walked over and crouched slightly to peer around the stack.

"Hey."

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Rowenna jumped, nearly knocking over the entire tower. The book she was holding thudded onto her lap, and at least three heads nearby turned with venomous glares.

She blinked at him. "Thorne?"

He raised both hands in a whisper. "I've been looking for you all morning."

Her eyes narrowed immediately. "Why?"

Thorne slid his hands into the pockets of his uniform. "I need your help."

More students looked their way, but Thorne leaned closer, keeping his voice low.

"I'm serious. I need you."

"About what?" she whispered, though her tone was skeptical. She didn't like surprises.

Thorne checked over his shoulder, then lowered his voice even further. "I need to find spells to study."

Rowenna stared at him flatly. "You have books. We all do."

"I mean battle spells," he said, enunciating clearly.

She blinked, visibly surprised. "Why would you think I know anything about… that?"

This time it was Thorne who narrowed his eyes. "Because you seem to know everything about Aetherhold. And I don't know if you've noticed, but I've been very discreet about it. I haven't asked questions. Not once. Which is wildly out of character for me."

She opened her mouth, hesitated, and closed it again. Her lips pursed as if tasting something she didn't like and wasn't sure how to spit out. Finally, she inhaled...

THWACK!

The violent slam of a tome broke the silence like a sword through glass.

An older student stormed over, face flushed red with fury, a heavy, cracked ledger still trembling from where he'd slapped it shut. His uniform bore the Aegis crest, the fabric was tight and perfect, and his expression was the epitome of disgusted authority.

"If you wish to gossip," he hissed, "I suggest the Astral Hall. Perhaps you can enjoy a lovely breakfast and discuss your scintillating news over a steaming cup of tea."

Thorne blinked. "What?"

The older student didn't even look at him. His eyes were on Rowenna and they were cold.

"If you bring guests into this library again," he said with surgical precision, "I will have no choice but to ask you not to return."

Rowenna blanched. "I... I'm sorry, Marius. It won't happen again."

Thorne's gaze swung back to her. "Do you want me to kill him?"

He said it plainly. No hint of sarcasm. No grin.

Just fact.

Marius turned so red he looked on the verge of implosion. "How dare you..."

But Rowenna was already snapping her books shut, stuffing notes into her satchel and dragging Thorne by the sleeve toward the exit.

"Sorry, Marius! Truly. Won't happen again. I'll see you later!" she called as they fled, her voice too cheerful to be entirely sincere.

As the library door clicked shut behind them and the cold silence was left behind, Thorne raised a brow.

"That guy's on a list now."

Rowenna groaned. "Please don't start a blood feud with Aegis over me. He's just possessive about his study spaces."

"That was possessiveness? I've seen less intensity from starving wolves."

She sighed. "Welcome to higher education."

They descended the marble stairwell in silence, the only sound the echoing click of their shoes and the occasional whisper of moving portraits overhead. Once they turned a corner, safely away from the library, Rowenna spun toward him with narrowed eyes and an accusing finger.

"If I get banned from that library because of you," she snapped, "I will personally pry your head off your shoulders."

Thorne blinked at her. "That's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

She glared harder. "You have no idea what that place means."

He lifted a brow. "Okay. What is that place?"

Rowenna huffed, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear as they continued walking. "It's one of the exclusive study libraries. Invitation-only. You have to be recommended by an older student or a professor to even get the access key."

Thorne whistled low. "Fancy."

"It's not just the books, though the collection's better than the main library. What really matters are the older students." She gestured as if trying to emphasize their importance. "They've already taken the classes we're struggling through. They know which textbooks are worth reading, which professors have weird grading habits, and what topics are guaranteed to earn top marks. Some of them even share old assignments."

Thorne gave her a sideways glance. "And they just do that out of the kindness of their hearts?"

Rowenna shrugged. "Networking. Reputation. Maybe a dash of guilt. But mostly? They're positioning themselves. One good tip and a first-year owes you a favor. A few favors? That's influence. That's power."

He chuckled. "This place really is just a magical political simulator, isn't it?"

"I prefer to call it strategic academia," she said primly.

They reached a vaulted corridor lined with crystalline sconces glowing faintly blue. The cold light reflected off Rowenna's cheekbones as she walked ahead, her braid swishing like a metronome.

"So where are we going?" Thorne asked, adjusting the strap of his satchel.

Rowenna didn't look back. "You asked for new spells. We're going to find you some."

Thorne brightened. "Oh, you are helping. I thought I'd blown my chance back there."

She exhaled sharply. "You almost did. And for the record? I have no idea what you'll even do with them. We're barely into the fundamentals and you want to dip your toes into advanced spellcasting."

He smirked. "I'm a prodigy, if you haven't noticed."

"Prodigy with a death wish," she muttered.

"Besides," he added, eyes gleaming, "I'm highly motivated."

That earned a glance. "Yeah, I heard about last night."

His smile faltered.

She noticed. "Whatever shady business you're mixed up in, keep it out of Aetherhold. And definitely keep it away from me."

Thorne gave her a mock-wounded look. "Why would you think I'm involved in shady business? I'm an upstanding citizen of... well... somewhere."

Rowenna snorted. "Earlier you said you don't ask questions. I'm extending the same courtesy. Don't think I haven't noticed how you move, how you watch people. My best guess? Spy. Probably from some enemy kingdom."

"Spy?" he laughed, but it was tight. "You're really going to make me sound that cool?"

"I don't want to know," she said flatly. "Ignorance is bliss."

Then, softer: "For now."

They walked in silence for a few steps. Thorne glanced over at her. Really looked at her. The sharp mind beneath the dry wit, the way her eyes flicked to corners, reading the environment. She didn't trust him, not fully, but she wasn't afraid of him either.

He grinned. "You know, you're very perceptive."

Rowenna gave him a sideways glance.

"And just for the record, my earlier offer still stands," he added. "If you want that Marius guy dead, I'm your man."

She rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."

"I prefer resourceful."

"You're something, alright."

The corridor Rowenna led him down was one Thorne hadn't ventured through before. There were no cheerful murals here, no enchanted portraits chatting amongst themselves, no students laughing or bickering as they walked between classes. Instead, the polished stone floor muffled their footsteps, and the arched ceilings bore silver inlays of ancient script that glowed faintly in the dim light.

"This part of the academy is mostly reserved for upper-year students," Rowenna explained in a hushed tone, not turning around. "Graduate-level research, private projects, and experimental spellwork."

"Experimental?" Thorne echoed with mild interest, casting a glance toward a closed door lined with warding sigils that pulsed like a heartbeat.

"Don't even think about opening anything without permission," she warned without looking. "Some of the wards here are... bitey."

They turned down a branching corridor, and Thorne immediately noticed a change in the air, something denser, tingling faintly against his skin. The magic here was... disciplined. As if it had been stored, categorized, and trained to behave.

The library she led him into was smaller than the main one, but more ornate. Less like a chaotic maze of bookshelves and more like a temple of knowledge. Shelves curved along the walls, carved from dark aetherwood, polished to a gleam. Ancient tomes floated gently beside pedestals of crystal, and small lanterns hovered in the air, shedding golden light that cast long shadows over thick carpets and worn desks.

There were maybe a dozen students inside, none of them first-years. Every single one of them looked like they had seen battle or were preparing to. Enchanted rings glowed faintly on fingers, tattoos shimmered beneath cuffs, and magical familiars lounged like lazy cats near their masters.

As they entered, an older man with an impossibly long beard looked up from his reading desk and approached them. His long robes shimmered subtly, a reflection of the shifting ambient aether around him. "Can I help you?"

"No, thank you," Rowenna said quickly, already scanning the perimeter.

The mage nodded, but added as he turned away, "If you take any spellbooks off the shelves, you'll need to sign them out first. Especially the enchanted tomes. Some of them bite."

"Understood," Rowenna replied politely, then immediately made a beeline toward a tall shelf carved with the symbol of a flame inside a circle. "Follow me."

Thorne trailed her, glancing around with interest. The silence was thick enough to taste, but not uncomfortable, just a focused sort of stillness. There was no idle chatter here. Just students and power and the scent of leather-bound books heavy with magic.

"Anything in particular you're looking for?" she asked over her shoulder.

Thorne shrugged. "Not really."

Rowenna sighed. "Of course not."

She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like 'Why am I not surprised?' before scanning the lower shelf. Her fingers brushed over a few spines before she muttered again, louder this time. "Alright, I guess we're heading to the beginners' section."

"You make that sound like a trip to the dentist."

"Because you're asking for battle magic like it's picking apples. Honestly."

She dragged him along a few more shelves before stopping at a cluster marked with small, glowing runes, Tier 1, Basic Spellcraft. She crouched slightly, scanning the titles. "You shouldn't have any issue with Tier 1 spells," she said, half to herself. "Unless you have a serious affinity deficiency, but I doubt that's the case."

"Affinity deficiency?" Thorne echoed, crouching beside her and trying to follow along.

"Some people just can't grasp certain types of magic," she explained. "It's rare, but it happens. Especially for Tier 2 and above. But Tier 1? Basically anyone with a working core can learn those. Think of them as the magical equivalent of learning to walk."

"I see," Thorne said thoughtfully, eyes flicking across the titles: Aetheric Bolts and How Not to Explode, Shielding Basics, The Beginner's Guide to Firelance.

"I'm guessing you want something offensive," Rowenna said dryly. "Of course you do. Men are always obsessed with blowing things up."

Thorne didn't argue. She wasn't wrong.

"But," she continued, grabbing a book titled Force and Focus: Channeling Destructive Energy, "defensive and utility spells are equally important. They don't sound flashy, but you'll thank me when someone's not actively turning your organs into soup."

Thorne smirked, raising a brow. "So considerate."

Rowenna ignored him, grabbing another book and flipping through it quickly. "Still… maybe I'll start as well. I hadn't planned on looking into battle magic until next semester, but…"

She trailed off, tapping the page in thought, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.

"But?" Thorne prompted.

"But I'm starting to feel underprepared," she admitted. "Given recent events."

Thorne watched her, saw the way her eyes darted across the page like they were devouring it. She hadn't been joking about her discipline. He was starting to understand that beneath Rowenna's dry wit and bluntness lay a formidable drive, not unlike his own.

"…So," she said, scanning the lower shelves again before pulling out a slim, silver-bound tome. "Start with this one, 'Sparks and Claws: Basic Offensive Spellcasting.' It's straightforward, focuses on early combat spells without too many convoluted theories."

She handed it to him and then grabbed two more books, flipping one open. "This one covers Tier 1 Fire Affinity spells. You might like it, there's Flame Needle, Scorch Palm, and Ash Grasp. All very manageable."

She set it atop the first book and reached for another, thumbing through until she found a page and handed it over with a quiet smirk. "And for variety, try this. 'Kinetic Flow – The Basics of Impact Magic.' You'll find Force Jab, Aether Push, and even Shatter Touch if you're feeling bold."

Thorne raised a brow as he took the small pile of tomes, their covers glowing softly in his hands. He glanced at one of the open pages, where intricate sigils danced faintly above neat script detailing gestures and mana shaping.

"Actual spells," he said, sounding almost impressed.

Rowenna shrugged. "You wanted spells, didn't you? You've got them. Just don't blame me when you singe your eyebrows."