THE AETHERBORN

Thorne hit the ground like a falling star.

The blast caught him mid-chest, threw him through a curtain of splintered trunks, and buried him in a shower of dirt and burning leaves. For a long, breathless moment there was only stillness, no sound but the slow hiss of molten soil cooling around him.

Then the pain arrived.

It was everywhere, muscle, bone, marrow. Not the clean pain of wounds but the deep, endless ache of something breaking from within. He rolled onto his back, gasping, each breath a jagged tremor in his ribs. The night sky swam above him, bright and distorted, colors wrong and shifting.

He could feel it.

The aether.

Too much of it.

When he'd used Arcane Harvest, he hadn't only unraveled the King's beam, he'd taken part of it into himself. The energy sat inside him like a second heart, pulsing, expanding, pressing against his skin. Every vein glowed white-blue; every nerve sang with static.

His body wasn't a vessel anymore. It was a bomb.

Thorne clenched his teeth, forcing his hands against the ground, trying to anchor himself. The soil vibrated beneath his palms, reacting to the current leaking from his fingertips. Light bled through the cracks in the dirt.

He could hear his core, a distant spiral inside his chest, spinning faster than it should, desperately trying to siphon the excess away. But the flow was endless. Every time it pulled in one thread, three more replaced it.

"Stop… stop," he whispered, voice cracking.

The aether didn't listen.

He doubled over, coughing light, the air around him warping with each pulse. He could feel his skin heating, his insides flickering between solid and radiance. The pressure behind his ribs was unbearable, like the world trying to climb out of him.

I can't hold this.

Through the ringing in his ears came another sound, low, rhythmic, distant but growing closer. The ground trembled in answer.

The Fourth King.

He could hear it moving through the smoke, slow, inexorable, dragging itself toward him.

"No," he rasped, trying to push himself upright. "No, not again."

He staggered, knees buckling. The motion sent another shockwave of aether rolling out from him, setting the grass ablaze in a ring of ghostly fire. Every breath hurt. Every heartbeat threatened to tear him apart.

He forced his mind to focus on a single thought.

Elias.

He turned, blinking through the haze. The elf's body lay crumpled near a collapsed tree, pale against the glowing soil. Still breathing. Barely.

Thorne tried to move toward him, stumbled, fell to one knee. His vision pulsed with static; threads of aether twisted in his sight, too vivid, too alive. The world had turned to light and noise.

He pressed his hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat thundering beneath his ribs. His core spun faster still, a blur of motion and heat. He could sense it straining, trying to bleed the excess into the air.

Hold together. Just until he's safe.

He forced one foot forward, then another. The air rippled behind him, every step leaving a footprint of glowing dust.

The King's shadow stretched through the smoke, massive, misshapen, luminous in the haze. Its molten eyes cut through the fog like twin suns.

Thorne barely looked up. He reached Elias, dropped to one knee beside him.

"Elias?"

The elf's gaze unfocused at first, then cleared, pupils reflecting the blinding glow radiating off Thorne. "By the stars…" he whispered, voice hoarse. "You're… burning."

Thorne almost laughed, part disbelief, part exhaustion. "Not exactly the time for compliments."

Elias tried to push himself up, then froze, eyes darting past Thorne to the molten clearing, the ruin, the distant outline of the Fourth King dragging itself through the haze. He swallowed hard. "That thing, what did you..."

"I'll explain later," Thorne cut in, gathering him up despite the pain screaming through every nerve. "Right now, we leave."

The light pouring from his skin danced over Elias's face, stark and unreal, painting him in shifting shades of blue and white. Elias could feel the heat rolling off him, not fire, but raw aether. It made the air hum.

He stared, stunned, fear and awe warring in his expression. "Thorne… what are you?"

Thorne met his eyes for half a heartbeat. The answer came low, grim, almost apologetic. "Complicated."

Then he turned, and the glow around them both flared. The earth cracked beneath his boots.

He started to run.

The first steps were agony. His body screamed in protest, every motion sparking arcs of aether that leapt from his arms, his chest, his throat. The air shimmered in his wake, the ground burning where his feet touched.

Elias clung to him weakly, barely conscious, breath hitching with every jolt. "Thorne... too much… can't!"

The words broke apart in a gasp as another surge rippled through Thorne's body. White-blue lightning danced along his skin, wild and beautiful, snapping in and out of existence.

He could feel the aether swelling inside him again, rising toward the edge of detonation. It crawled up his spine like molten metal, begging for release. The forest around them blurred, trees flashing by as streaks of color.

Then Elias groaned, a sharp, pained sound. His body arched slightly, his skin reacting to the storm of energy bleeding from Thorne. Strands of light brushed against him like tendrils, scorching faint patterns into his robes.

"Stop! Thorne it burns!"

Thorne's chest tightened. He forced a whisper through clenched teeth, voice raw and low, aimed not at Elias but at the thing raging within him.

"He's a friend. Don't hurt him."

The aether reacted, hesitated.

The arcs still danced along his body, but their touch softened, shifting from wild lashes to a controlled shimmer. They slid harmlessly over Elias, their light dimming as if recognizing him.

Thorne blinked in disbelief. "You listened?"

The aether hummed back, not words, but something close to acknowledgment.

Elias's breathing steadied slightly, though his voice was still strained. "Too much… aether. Hard to… breathe."

"I know," Thorne said through gritted teeth. His muscles trembled with every step, his body glowing brighter, flickering at the edges. "Just—hold on a little longer."

He forced his mind to focus, slipping through the constant stream of sensory overload. His Veil Sense was a hurricane of input, trees, wards, beasts, pressure currents, every living and non-living thing rendered in excruciating detail. He sifted through it, searching, filtering, until he caught a signature he recognized: twin runic anchors, buried deep in the leyflow to the north.

The statue of the beaked beast, the same construct that had hurled him into the forest.

It was still active. Flickering. Waiting.

"That's our way out," he hissed.

The forest roared behind them. The ground shuddered, soil rippling like water. A distant bellow shook the canopy, followed by a flare of light so bright it turned night into day.

The Fourth King was coming.

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Thorne didn't have to look to know what it was doing. His Veil Sense painted it clearly in his mind's eye, the colossal form tearing through trees, each step leaving molten scars. The beast's gullet glowed brighter, the energy gathering for another shot.

He ran harder, the aether under his feet solidifying instinctively, forming platforms of light that carried him across ravines and shattered roots.

A second later, the forest exploded.

Aether beams cut through the darkness, vaporizing everything in their path. The shockwaves hit in rolling thunderclaps, throwing waves of molten debris across the clearing.

Thorne ducked low, darting between walls of fire and collapsing trees. His body blurred from speed, light trailing behind him in streaks of gold and blue.

Elias coughed against his shoulder, voice barely audible. "You can't.... keep this pace…"

"Not planning to," Thorne muttered, his focus narrowing to a single glowing thread in the distance, the leyline tethered to the twin statues. "We're almost there."

The King roared again. The sound tore through the air like a physical blow. Thorne stumbled for half a step, the force nearly throwing him off balance. He pushed through, lungs burning, every vein in his body glowing brighter.

The aether within him was reaching a breaking point. He could feel it tearing through his veins, scratching at the inside of his skull, screaming for release. He could almost hear it whispering, coaxing him to stop, to let go, to end it here in one last burst of annihilation.

He ignored it.

The threads of aether under his feet pulsed faster, carrying him through the collapsing forest. Trees bent away as he passed. The air behind him burned.

Another blast hit the ground a few hundred meters behind him, the shockwave throwing him forward like a leaf in a gale. He landed hard, slid, then forced his body upright again, Elias still cradled in his arms.

Ahead, through the smoke and light, he saw them, the faint silhouettes of the twin beaked beast statue, half-buried in the clearing, its runes flickering like dying embers.

Its eyes were dark now, but the residual aether around them recognized him. It pulsed once, faintly, like a heartbeat.

"That's it," he breathed. "That's our exit."

The ground quaked again,the Fourth King closing the distance, its colossal form outlined in the inferno behind them. The heat rolled over his back like a wall.

Thorne tightened his grip around Elias, every muscle screaming, every pulse of light from his body threatening to tear him apart.

"Just a little farther," he said. "Just one more breath."

And then he ran again, into the storm of light, toward the only chance they had left.

The statue loomed ahead, silent, ancient, half-buried beneath roots and ash. Its stone feathers gleamed faintly in the haze, the once-proud beaks tilted toward the dying sky. Thorne stumbled into the clearing, dragging Elias in his arms, lungs heaving as the last of his strength faltered.

The Fourth King roared behind them, the sound a living earthquake. The ground buckled under its approach.

Thorne dropped to one knee at the statue's base, one hand pressed to the ancient runes carved into its chest. The lines were cold and dark.

"Come on," he rasped. "Wake up."

He pushed his right hand against the stone and let the aether flow.

The reaction was instant.

The ground cracked, runes blazing to life as the statue's eyes ignited, first dull gold, then blinding white. The air trembled, every thread of ambient energy twisting toward the construct. The beak creaked open with a grinding shriek, light bleeding from its seams.

The stored aether inside released in a thunderclap.

There was no time to think, no time to brace. A column of radiant force erupted from the statue's mouth, swallowing them whole. Thorne felt his feet leave the ground, the world falling away beneath him.

They were flying, no, launched, hurtling skyward through a storm of light. The air turned thin and electric, the forest vanishing into the glow below.

Elias screamed beside him, clutching at Thorne's arm, his voice lost in the roar.

Thorne couldn't answer. His body convulsed midair, the aether inside him surging wild again, tearing through veins and muscle. He could feel his core spinning out of control, a dying star collapsing inside his chest.

He tried to contain it. To shape it. To breathe.

Too much.

He felt something hot on his cheeks, thought for a heartbeat it was blood, then saw the drops floating away in the aether light, not red at all, but glowing.

Aether tears.

They drifted like tiny stars into the tunnel of light around them.

Elias saw them and went silent. His own cry choked in his throat. His eyes widened, horror and awe mixing as he reached across the wind to grab Thorne's shoulder.

"Thorne! Hold on! Please!"

Thorne couldn't speak. His body shuddered with each pulse of his heart. The light inside him was no longer contained by skin, it seeped through every pore, streaming backward into the void.

The tunnel of aether widened ahead, swallowing them both, its center a storm of white and violet.

They shot through it like falling stars.

The world snapped back.

They slammed into solid ground, the impact echoing across the open expanse.

They had made it home.

Barely.

Thorne collapsed onto the platform, gasping, the glow from his body flickering erratically. The cracks along his arms glowed brighter, widening, his veins like molten glass about to burst.

Elias landed hard beside him, rolling onto his knees, coughing violently. "Thorne!" He crawled over, grabbing his shoulder, shaking him. "Thorne, can you hear me? Say something!"

Thorne's lips moved, voice barely more than a whisper. "Marian…"

Elias blinked, confused. "Professor Marian?"

"Yes," Thorne rasped. His eyes were unfocused, distant, burning with the same terrible light that had nearly consumed the forest. "Get Marian. Now."

Before Elias could reply, a low hum started deep in Thorne's chest. His core, unstable, overloaded, flared. Then his body lit up all at once.

Then came the blast.

Light burst from him in a violent pulse, hurling Elias backward. The elf crashed into the stone steps, the skin along his arms blistering, blood streaking down his face.

"Go!" Thorne screamed, his voice raw, ragged, carried by the aether wind tearing around him. "GO!"

Elias forced himself up, half-blind from the glare. "Thorne!"

"RUN!"

Another pulse tore free, cracking the stone beneath Thorne's hands. His entire body was shaking apart, light streaming upward into the night sky, bright enough to cast shadows across the entire plateau.

Elias hesitated for a heartbeat, long enough to see Thorne kneeling in the center of that impossible glow, face streaked with tears of aether, eyes hollow and bright.

Then instinct won.

He turned and ran.

Thorne's scream tore through the night as another wave of aether ripped free from his body, spiraling upward in blinding arcs. The light scorched the stone beneath him, leaving molten trails that glowed like veins of liquid fire.

He could barely think, only feel. The aether was everywhere inside him, howling, restless, overflowing. He tried to force it out, to channel it in measured bursts the way he'd learned to regulate his flow, but this was different. There was no control. No rhythm.

He gasped, forcing a single word through clenched teeth. "Out."

The aether listened.

It flared from his palms in sharp, controlled bursts, streaks of light firing into the sky like flares. For a moment, the pressure lessened, his body sagging in relief.

But then more came, another tide rising behind the first, stronger, heavier. Every time he expelled it, the flow refilled. Endless. Relentless.

He didn't know how long he stayed there, caught between agony and exhaustion. His sense of time dissolved. There was only the light, the pain, the hollow thrum of his heartbeat.

Then footsteps.

"Thorne!"

The voice cut through the roar, sharp and clear, commanding and terrified all at once.

He blinked through the haze. A shape rushed toward him, robes whipping in the wind, silver hair streaked with light. Marian.

She was shouting, her words barely audible over the hum of aether. "Here! Set the portal up, now!"

Thorne tried to move, but his limbs refused. He felt himself falling, the light dimming in his vision. Then Marian was there, dropping to her knees beside him, her hands trembling as she turned him onto his back.

"Stay with me," she hissed, eyes wide, voice cracking at the edges. "Do you hear me? Stay with me!"

She pulled a crystal from her satchel, long, multifaceted, etched with a web of runes, and pressed it toward his chest.

Before it even touched his skin, it shattered.

The explosion sent a shockwave, scattering fragments of burning crystal across the floor. Marian recoiled with a strangled scream, shielding her face from the blast. The air around Thorne distorted, shimmering violently.

"No! no, no, no!" she shouted. "It's too much, he's tearing through containment!"

Elias stumbled into view, his face bloodied, his hands glowing faintly from residual burns. "What's happening?!"

"Hurry up!" Marian barked, her voice sharp with panic as she pulled another focus from her robes. "We have to leave now!"

Thorne barely registered their voices. The world had narrowed to soundless light. The aether's rhythm had changed, its pitch shifting, the threads vibrating in strange harmony. It wasn't screaming anymore. It was singing.

He felt it move through him, no longer chaotic, but purposeful.

"Come," he whispered.

And it obeyed.

The wind howled. Marian threw one hand outward, her pearl ring igniting in a flash of white. A circular sigil blazed to life beside them, its surface swirling with mirrored light.

"Now!" she yelled.

The portal expanded, the edges flickering, barely stable under the aether's interference. Marian reached for him, her magic clashing against the storm around his body.

"Come on, Thorne, stay with me!"

She waved her hand, the ring flaring brighter, and the portal swallowed them whole.

Light folded in on itself and then vanished.

Thorne hit the ground hard, the breath torn from his lungs. The air that filled them was cold, dry, dead. No hum. No pulse.

He blinked up at a colorless sky. The horizon stretched empty in every direction, a sea of cracked earth and dust. Not a blade of grass. Not a sound.

Marian was beside him, kneeling, one hand still raised from the casting. Her ring was dim now, the pearl dulled and lifeless. Elias lay a few paces away, breathing but unconscious.

It was quiet. Terribly, mercifully quiet.

Thorne pressed a shaking hand to the ground. Nothing answered him. No threads, no whisper of the endless tide that filled every corner of the world. Here, the aether was thin, so faint he could barely sense it at all.

A wasteland. A scar left by something ancient. And yet… for the first time in hours, he felt his body begin to ease. The invisible pressure that had been clawing through his veins lessened. The light leaking from his skin dimmed to a faint shimmer.

He exhaled, a sound that was half relief, half disbelief. "It's quiet," he murmured.

Marian nodded once, eyes scanning the barren horizon. "That's why I chose it. Nothing lives here. Nothing listens."

Marian watched him silently, worry and awe warring in her eyes.

And for the first time since the forest, Thorne let his eyes close, the light dimming around him until only faint ribbons of blue shimmered across the cracked ground, marking the place where the storm had finally gone still.