THE AETHERBORN

The silence stretched uncomfortably as Marian's hollow gaze stayed locked on Thorne. The weight of it felt almost physical, pressing into his chest. He forced himself not to look away, even as his mind raced with questions about what had happened to her.

And then, just to break the tension...

"…Is it just me," Elias whispered loudly enough for Rowenna to hear, "or does she look like she just fought a basilisk and lost?"

A couple of nearby students snickered under their breath. Rowenna glared at him so sharply it could've cut stone.

"Shut up," she hissed.

"What?" Elias muttered defensively. "I'm just saying. She looks like she hasn't slept since..."

Before he could finish, Marian finally looked away from Thorne, her expression hardening into a mask of professional detachment.

She stepped toward the center of the crystal classroom, her voice clear but carrying the faint edge of someone stretched too thin.

"Last time we met," she began, "we covered the basic alignment sigils used to stabilize minor arcane matrices." Her fingers flexed slightly, as if she were recalling them in her mind. "Specifically, the Triad of Flow: the base sigils for elemental attunement and channel balance."

A few students nodded, flipping open their textbooks.

Marian raised her chin slightly. "For the next three classes, we will shift focus to containment sigils, used to hold, suppress, or anchor magical forces in spellwork."

She began to pace slowly as she spoke, her tone low but sharp enough to cut through the room's quiet.

"These are the sigils that bind your spells in place. Without them, your weaves unravel. Your wards collapse. And, if you're careless enough, a simple misalignment can turn a containment sigil into an amplification instead. I'm sure I don't need to explain why that is dangerous."

Her eyes swept over the class, lingering on a few students who immediately sat straighter.

"The most common spells using containment sigils include basic warding circles, holding patterns for familiars and spirits, storage glyphs, and temporary sealwork for unstable objects."

She stopped in the center of the room. "A mistraced sigil will not only fail, it will backfire. Some of you will simply singe your fingers. The rest of you will detonate something you didn't mean to."

A soft ripple of nervous laughter passed through the students. Marian didn't smile.

As she continued, she lifted one hand.

The pearl ring on her finger began to glow faintly, tracing soft lines of light through the air. Sigils shimmered into view, each one hovering like a ghostly glyph.

"This," she said, sketching a precise, angular shape in a single motion, "is the Anchor Mark, the foundation for any containment lattice. Without this..." she traced a second, more intricate spiral looping around the first "... you cannot hold power in a fixed state."

The glowing sigils rotated slowly above her, casting pale reflections across the crystalline walls.

Around him, students scrambled to copy her diagrams.

Thorne opened his textbook, flipping to the new chapter on containment glyphs. At the same time, he pulled out a smaller notebook, his personal one, and began writing.

He didn't just copy her exact words. He wrote in his own shorthand, layering notes between what she said:

Anchor Mark = baseline, stabilizes internal flow
Needs precise pressure, margin for error = none
Misalign spiral? → Reverse feedback = explosion

As Marian traced another sigil in the air, a sharp triangular pattern intersected with runic curls, Thorne leaned slightly forward, his quill moving smoothly.

Her voice was calm but unyielding.

"Containment sigils are the difference between a controlled ward and a volatile accident. You will learn their shapes, their variants, and their most common pairings with focus and holding runes. And by the end of this set of lessons…" Her eyes flicked briefly across the room, "you will demonstrate a functioning seal circle without supervision."

Elias leaned slightly toward Thorne, whispering out of the corner of his mouth. "Containment sigils. Great. Just what I needed. More ways to blow myself up."

Rowenna smacked him lightly on the arm without looking away from Marian.

"Focus," she muttered.

"I am focusing," Elias whispered back. "I'm focusing on how much I'm going to hate this."

Thorne didn't even glance at them. He kept his eyes on Marian, quietly taking notes as she continued sketching new sigils in the air.

And yet, despite her sharp voice and precise motions, he couldn't stop thinking about how hollow she'd looked when she stepped out of the mirror.

Whatever had happened to her, it wasn't just exhaustion.

Thorne kept his quill moving as Marian continued tracing glowing sigils through the air. He copied the shapes precisely, his notes neat but interspersed with his own thoughts.

Anchor Mark → cut at pivot intersection? Collapse entire structure with a single strike.
Containment Spiral → secondary flow line = weak point.

As Marian explained how containment sigils held raw magical forces in place, he wasn't just learning how to create them. He was cataloguing how to dismantle them. Every detail she gave, the stabilization points, the "safe" margins, the pressure lines, all of it translated in his mind to new ways he could sever wards faster, cleaner.

Learning how to build a wall gave you all the information you needed to tear it down.

It gave him new clarity about the wards he'd faced in the tower. Next time, he wouldn't spend minutes cutting through one, he'd know the weak lines immediately.

The class felt longer than usual, but finally Marian lowered her glowing hand and the sigils faded one by one.

"That will be all for today," she said. "Your assignment is to practice these forms. Next class, we will begin layering containment sigils with focus runes."

The students let out a collective breath.

"That was… captivating," Rowenna said quietly, already closing her notebook.

Thorne gave a small, wordless nod, still turning over the implications of what he'd learned.

Elias groaned loudly, slumping against his desk. "Captivating? It's insane. Do you realize how many sigils we're expected to memorize? Dozens. Dozens! I didn't sign up to be a walking rune encyclopedia."

Rowenna rolled her eyes. "You barely sign up for anything, Elias."

Thorne stood, ready to leave with them. But before he could take a step, Marian's voice cut through the soft chatter.

"Mr Silverbane."

He froze, glancing back.

"Stay for a moment."

The room stilled for half a beat. Rowenna raised a brow, silently questioning him. Elias looked faintly amused, clearly expecting trouble.

Thorne just shrugged, keeping his face blank, calm. Inside, though, his thoughts sharpened. What does she want now?

"See you at the next class," Rowenna said softly as she followed the others out.

"Try not to get yourself expelled while we're gone," Elias added with a smirk before trailing after her.

When the last student stepped out, the classroom doors closed with a soft hiss.

The sigils along the crystalline walls flared, sealing the room.

And Marian exploded.

"What were you THINKING?!"

Her voice wasn't calm or measured now, it was sharp, edged with something raw.

"Entering the vault?! Freeing an Elderborn?! Unleashing all those monstrosities and getting dozens of people killed in the process?!" She advanced a step, her hollowed eyes blazing. "Next three students are found dead under suspicious circumstances, which I am pretty sure it was your doing. Then acting unstable, reckless and NOW I hear you caused a mini earthquake in Evermist, killing even more people?!"

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Each accusation hit like a lash.

"You're reckless. You're drawing attention to yourself every time you do something like this. Are you TRYING to be found out? To be hunted down? To be dissected like an animal in some scholar's lab?!"

She was trembling slightly now, her anger tightly coiled with something else, fear.

Thorne didn't move.

He listened calmly, almost detached, cataloguing every word.

So Marian knew. All of it. She'd been watching him closely, too closely. Monitoring his movements, tracking his actions, keeping tabs on the fallout of everything he did.

The realization made his jaw tighten.

He didn't like it.

No, he knew he didn't like it.

It felt uncomfortably similar to Uncle. That same suffocating oversight disguised as "concern."

He cut her tirade off quietly.

"What happened to you?"

The question hit her like a wall. Marian's mouth snapped shut mid-breath.

For a fleeting moment, something cracked in her expression.

But then she recovered, her glare hardening again. "Don't change the subject." Her voice rose again, sharper now. "We are talking about your irresponsibility, your insanity! Do you realize what you've done? You walked into the Vault! The Vault, Thorne! Even I'm not foolish enough to do that!"

She took a shaky breath, her voice trembling slightly. "You practically ran into the arms of the very people who kill us, who study us. You're handing yourself to them on a silver plate!"

Thorne nodded slowly.

Because honestly? She wasn't wrong. He had been reckless. He knew it.

But regret? No. He didn't regret his choices.

So he stayed calm, his voice even. "On that note… do you know someone called Varo?"

Marian froze.

Her hollow eyes widened faintly.

"Varo?" she echoed, her voice dropping, softer now but far more dangerous.

Thorne kept his gaze steady on her. "He's an Elderborn."

Marian's lips pressed into a severe line. Slowly, she nodded.

"I know of him," she said, her voice clipped and heavy with meaning. "I have been very careful in avoiding him." Her eyes sharpened like drawn glass. "Have you met him?" she asked, the softness in her tone deceptively thin, like silk hiding a blade.

Thorne gave a single, measured nod.

"He was here."

The words hit Marian like a physical blow. She straightened abruptly, disbelief flashing across her face.

"He has been here?"

"Yes," Thorne confirmed. "The first week in Aetherhold. We had a… meeting. About a potential sponsorship."

Marian's breath caught, her expression darkening. "You met him? Face to face?"

"Yes."

"Does he know?" she demanded, her voice sharper now.

Thorne exhaled slowly, resigned.

"Yes. During the meeting he cast some weird spell. It bypassed the necklace's protections. He… entered my core."

Marian paled.

Thorne went on, calm but his words heavy. "I saw things, visions. He called them possible futures, though I'm not sure if that's true. Maybe they were illusions. Maybe not."

Marian stared at him in silence, her face unreadable.

"I rejected his offer," Thorne continued. "But a couple of days ago… an official offer came. From the Empire of the First Light."

At that name, Marian stiffened.

Thorne's tone hardened. "It wasn't really an offer. It was veiled in threats. It doesn't look like I can decline. And…" He hesitated, then added, "I'm pretty sure Varo is still watching me. Somehow."

Marian moved like she'd been struck. She sat down heavily on a nearby crystal bench, her hands trembling faintly as she pressed her fingers to her temple.

"Oh," she whispered, almost to herself. "This is bad. This is very bad."

She massaged her forehead slowly, muttering under her breath. "Varo in Aetherhold… the Empire making a move… and now you tied to it…"

Her shoulders sagged, the weight of too many pieces sliding into place visibly crushing her.

Marian sat very still for a long moment, her fingers still pressed against her forehead. Then, finally, she lifted her gaze to Thorne, her voice quieter now but heavy with a sharp, controlled edge.

"Varo is a collector," she said, the word tasting bitter. "He doesn't just find Elderborn, he delivers them. He collects us for his Emperor, like rare, dangerous pets to be locked away or tamed. It's how the Empire of the First Light has risen so far, so fast. They don't just wield armies or magic. They wield us."

Her voice grew more hollow as she continued.

"Varo has found dozens over the decades. I've heard names whispered, Elderborn who now serve in the Emperor's personal elite. They say the Emperor's Guard isn't even human anymore, that his entire council is bound by blood pacts to him. That's the Empire's greatest secret."

Thorne stayed silent, watching her.

"I don't even know if the Emperor himself is one of us," Marian said, shaking her head slightly. "There are so many rumors… he's immortal, he's a fragment of some ancient god, he's the last surviving Elderborn from the original lines. No one knows. Almost no one has even seen him in person, only his voice and decrees echoing through his proxies."

She looked away for a moment, her tone softening but no less grim. "But to live under the Empire's yoke… Thorne, I don't know. I've heard so many horrific stories. Elderborn who refused and simply vanished. Whole families disappeared overnight. Cities 'cleansed' for harboring them. I can't even tell what's truth anymore and what's just meant to scare us, but I know the Empire gets what it wants."

Her hollow eyes met his again. "All I know for certain is this: you should decline that offer. Whatever it takes, don't let them take you."

Thorne's jaw tightened.

"I was told I can't decline," he said quietly. "That once the Empire has set its eyes on someone, there's no way out. You either accept the offer or they take you anyway."

Marian closed her eyes briefly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Yes," she whispered. "That's what I've heard too. Once they notice you, you're already caught in their web. The only Elderborn I've ever heard of escaping the Empire's attention… are dead."

She exhaled, clearly weighing how much to say, then went on.

"Some of the Elderborn under the Emperor's banner aren't just loyal. They're… bound. I've heard there's a seal the Empire uses, something ancient that chains their cores directly to the Emperor's will. They become weapons. Living sigils of destruction."

Marian's gaze grew distant, haunted. "There's one they call the Crimson Wraith, an Elderborn who can tear entire cities apart with a thought. Another, the Veil Dancer, who vanishes between realms. And there are more… shadows you never see until it's too late. All of them chained to the Emperor's banner, used to crush rebellion and expand his reach."

Her hands clenched faintly. "That's what Varo does. He brings the Emperor more of us. And once you're taken… you're not coming back."

Silence stretched between them.

Thorne stood still, absorbing her words, his expression calm but his thoughts sharp.

So Varo wasn't just some wandering recruiter. He was the Emperor's hound.

And now that hound had already sniffed him out.

Marian was silent for a long moment, her hollow gaze fixed somewhere past him, as if she were replaying memories she didn't want to remember. Then, slowly, something hardened in her expression.

"No," she said finally, her tone firmer now. "We're not going to wait for them to tighten the leash around your neck."

Thorne blinked, taken slightly off guard by the change in her voice.

Marian straightened, the dim light catching in her pearl ring as her fingers curled into a fist. "Your training starts tonight."

He stared at her, his brow lifting faintly.

"Once night falls," she continued, voice sharp and determined, "you'll come to me. There's no more time for half-measures, Thorne. If the Empire has already marked you, then you'll need more than luck and instincts to survive what's coming. You'll need control."

Her sunken eyes still carried the exhaustion, the hollow weight of whatever had drained her in these past few days but now there was steel behind them.

Thorne didn't argue.

He didn't promise, didn't thank her. He just nodded once.

And then Marian dismissed him with a single flick of her fingers, already turning back toward the mirror portal she had entered from.

When he stepped out of the crystalline tower, the light outside felt colder.

Students still milled about the courtyard, laughing, talking, rushing to their next lessons as if the world wasn't shifting beneath their feet.

But Thorne's thoughts were heavy.

Varo. The Emperor. The Empire's leash tightening around him. Marian's sudden anger. Her hollowed face.

He walked away from the tower with a carefully calm mask, but inside, he was more unsettled than ever.

Night would come soon.

And with it… a new kind of training.

***

Night had fallen over Aetherhold when Thorne returned to the Crystal Tower. Its facets glimmered faintly under the moonlight, casting sharp, cold reflections across the courtyard.

Marian was waiting for him at the base of the outer staircase. She didn't speak, simply turned and led him silently back into the tower.

Inside, the mirrors lining the walls rippled faintly. Marian stopped before one, her sunken features calm but unreadable, and raised her hands.

Her pearl ring flashed, pale light running across her fingers as she wove them through the air in complex, layered patterns. Sigils flared and rotated around her wrists like tiny constellations. The mirror rippled deeper, the reflections dissolving into a swirl of silver mist.

"Follow me," she said quietly.

Thorne stepped in without hesitation.

On the other side, he emerged into a room unlike anything he'd seen before.

Half of it was an ancient crystal library, towering translucent shelves filled with tomes that glowed faintly with embedded runes. The other half was an upscale living area, all polished marble and shimmering fabrics draped across elegant furniture, the soft hum of enchantments in the air.

Marian didn't stop. She moved fluidly toward a tall archway at the far end of the room.

She raised her hands again. Sigils spun from her fingertips like strands of silk, the pearl ring catching starlight with each motion. The arch shimmered, the air inside it shifting until it folded in on itself.

"Stay close," she murmured.

Thorne stepped beside her.

The archway breathed and as they walked through, it became a door.

They emerged into starlight.

The scent of salt hit him first, sharp and clean.

They were standing on a tiny, round island, nothing more than a patch of smooth stone and sand surrounded by the endless expanse of sea. The waves murmured softly all around them, catching the silver glow of the moon overhead.

The air here felt different, open, vast, untethered by the wards and constraints of the academy.

Marian stepped a few paces ahead, her silhouette cutting sharp against the shimmering water. When she turned back to him, there was no anger in her face this time, only cold, measured intent.

"Your power," she said quietly, "is frankly… terrifying."

She let the words hang in the air for a beat.

"You have a capability to wield aether most can only dream of. But your control…" She shook her head slightly. "It's crude. Elementary. You rely on brute force and raw instinct. You think big explosions mean effectiveness. They don't."

Her pale eyes sharpened.

"We're going to change that."

She raised her hand, the pearl ring pulsing faintly as the starlight bent around her fingers.

"It's time," Marian said, "for you to learn the subtle ways of aether manipulation. Precision. Flow. Silence. How to make your power move like a whisper instead of a hammer."

The waves crashed softly around them, the endless sea murmuring in the night.

"Tonight," she finished, "you stop being a blunt weapon."