The square felt too large and too full.
Mana rippled through the crowd, dozens of outlines, thousands of threads. High above, banners cracked in the breeze. I couldn't see them but the outlines of all three were filled by familiar strong mana. People stood shoulder to shoulder, pressed into every corner of the square and the balconies above.
We were at the front.
Somehow.
Salem had no fear of guards. Rōko had no fear of anything. Kate, of course, said, "If you don't get arrested at least once a year, are you even living?" So we walked, past velvet ropes, through crowded lines, under faint protests — until the front row unfolded like it had always been ours.
"Too much," Rōko muttered, arms folded. "Way too much."
I laughed quietly. "You hate ceremony, huh?"
"It's loud. It's long. And it smells like politics."
Salem nodded. "It is politics."
"Exactly. I hate it."
Fay's mana pulsed with quiet awe. "Still… it's kind of beautiful."
She was right. Even from my vision — just outlines and light. I could feel it. The tension in the stone. The air holding its breath. The moment before something big.
Trumpets blared, enchanted to project across the square without shattering ears.
Then the crowd hushed all at once.
I felt them before I saw them.
Three massive signatures. Each as old and layered as mountains. One was tangled like roots in stone. One was fire-burnished steel. And the last was like golden wind—high and laced with deep sadness.
The three kings.
Beren Falhren, of the Elves. Mana braided in threads so elegant they sang.
Hadrian Marelt, of the Humans. Aura sharp as armor, calm as command. Next to him his popular lion.
Gimli Earthshale, of the Dwarves. His mana was thick and warm and ancient — like forest loam under a mountain forge.
They stepped forward together, standing beneath the crest of the union: three branches twined around a sword of light.
Then two more figures walked up behind them.
One was a storm made man, his presence like thunder folded into flesh. Calm, but so dense I felt my heartbeat stagger. I could feel normal citizens that weren't of high rank stagger all the way back at the gates because of his presence.
Lincoln. The strongest mage alive.
Beside him: a softer signature. Precise, clean. Healing laced into every thread of her mana. Her outline shimmered with that same familiarity I hadn't felt in years.
"Dr. Lorre," I whispered.
Kate leaned down. "She's here."
"I haven't talked to her in so long. She always was so kind."
"She still is."
"…Where are Julius and Daniel?" I asked.
Kate's outline shifted slightly. "Daniel's with Rolim."
"Rolim?" My stomach twisted. "That idiot still alive?"
"He's our idiot. Daniel's learning from him. He's fine. He's joined the second line of defense of the elven army."
"And Julius?"
Kate smirked. "That's… something you'll have to see for yourself."
I didn't answer.
Something stirred behind the stage, the feeling of gates opening. History waiting.
Lincoln stepped forward. His voice rolled like skyfire.
"For centuries, we believed the devils were held at bay. That the veil our ancestors made the one we strengthened, held. That the tides could not return.
But we were wrong."
A hush fell deeper over the crowd.
"The tragedy at Draumhold proved what we feared — and what we denied. The veil was broken. The devils grow bolder. And we must answer in kind.
For that reason, a group has been formed — trained, chosen, and prepared in secret.
Today, they will no longer be hidden.
They are the Ætherbound."
A ripple. Like an intake of breath from the entire continent.
"These fifteen were selected not only for strength, but for clarity, for leadership, and for trust. Each one stands for something more than just power.
They stand for our future."
A new trumpet call rang out.
"Let the names be known," King Hadrian said.
⸻
"Lumos Drossel."
Alven made no noise. But his mana flared — not in shock, but pride. Not surprise.
"I knew it," he muttered under his breath.
The crowd cheered. The name echoed off the stone.
Lumos was already a legend — the strongest mage besides Lincoln, respected across all three continents. He walked forward without hesitation, outlined in clean, burning light.
"Raphos Falkor."
The crowd stilled.
The mana that stepped forward was wrong. Twisted and re-shaped, but still controlled. Deep and foreign.
Everyone gasped.
Except me.
"…Who?" I asked.
Kate leaned in. "A Chimera."
I stiffened.
"I thought—"
"They're usually with the devils now. Fully turned on us, But not him. Raphos is…"
She paused.
"Raphos is a miracle. Or a weapon. Or both."
The Elf King, Beren, raised his voice. "This may be… unorthodox. But trust must be earned. This man has earned it. Chimera or not, he is one of us."
The silence held. Then applause rose — hesitant, but real.
"Sir Myron Aethon."
My chest lifted slightly.
His mana was like snowlight — cold but not cruel. Familiar.
"Myron," I breathed. "He's here."
Kate smiled. "Kings Guard to Beren. And he'll still asks how you're doing."
I felt myself smile.
"Thorkell Bloodforge."
Dwarf magic surged. Heavy and ancient. But instead of flame or metal, it bloomed like roots and vines cracking stone.
"Plant magic," Fay whispered. "That's rare for dwarves."
"He's mastered it, i've seen it first hand," Kate said.
"Augustus Starshield"
I felt Rōko facepalm as he walked out. "Gods he looks ridiculous, let me guess fay…another noble."
She let out a chuckle. "He sure is, one of the highest born elves currently living, surprised he'd take on something that could get him killed though."
Then…
The next name dropped like a heartbeat skipping.
"Julius Pyrelight."
Everything in me stilled.
I felt his mana.
It wasn't what I remembered.
It was deeper. Sharper. No longer flame, more like the sun's core. Controlled, but blinding.
He stepped forward.
And I flinched.
"…He's so strong now," I whispered.
Kate laughed softly.
"Told you you'd have to see."
I couldn't breathe for a second.
Then I did.
The names kept coming.
But the sound of his, it echoed louder than the rest.
And somewhere deep in my chest, the future opened.
The next name rolled out.
But I wasn't listening anymore.
Because I'd felt something. Something unmistakable.
His mana.
Julius.
And it was completely different. Sharper, fuller, steadier — but still his. Still tethered to that same heartbeat I'd once memorized by accident during a hundred hours of sparring, and losing, and growing.
I shifted my weight.
Salem's outline turned toward me immediately. "What are you doing."
"Nothing."
A pause.
"Annabel," she said slowly, "why are you weaving space?"
I tilted my head up toward her, grinning. "I'll be back in a jiffy."
"Annabe—"
Too late.
I whispered a small spell under my breath, felt the edge of space fold and curl. Then I stepped backward into it, just a slip, a ripple, a window between one breath and the next.
And I fell.
Right through the veil.
Straight into Julius' arms.
He caught me by instinct alone — arms locking around me like a puzzle piece he'd forgotten he was holding.
His mana jolted. Then flattened in panic.
He didn't move. Then he did — just slightly — lifting me a little higher like I was made of explosives.
"…What are you doing in my arms," he muttered tightly.
I leaned against him without shame. "I missed you."
"There are so many people here."
"I know."
"I can hear whispers. Annabel, this is—this is humiliating."
"I'm blind. I can't hear them."
"That's not how it works—!"
Somewhere on the platform, I felt Kate's mana buzz with delight.
Fay whispered, "What the hell is she doing?"
Kate answered smoothly. "Testing him."
"Testing?! She's wrapped around him like a lovesick wyvern."
"She's making sure he's still Julius."
"Is he?"
"Yup. Just flustered. Stronger now."
Across the stage, I felt Dr. Lorre's aura light up like sunrise.
A gasp. Soft, reverent.
"…Annabel?"
I smiled faintly.
It had been years. She still felt like light woven into calm.
But then another shift — like wind snapping taut.
Lincoln.
He moved like a knife unsheathed. No sound. No warning.
Then a hand grabbed the collar of my coat — and yanked me upward.
"HEY—!"
He hoisted me like I weighed nothing, holding me toward the crowd like a demonstration.
"This," he said to the thousands watching, "is the blind prodigy."
My heart stopped.
"She won't be Ætherbound."
A murmur ran through the crowd. Then silence.
"She'll be like me," he continued.
"Eventually. If she stops messing around like this."
A low ripple of laughter followed.
Then his voice cut sharper.
"And she'll be the one fighting against the Ætherbound. Right here. In front of all of you. So you understand what they're capable of."
That was when I screamed.
"You absolute moron! Do you want me killed?!"
Another wave of shocked noise.
He just shrugged and dumped me—back into Julius' arms.
I flopped like a wet scarf.
Julius made a noise like his soul was leaving his body. "This is the worst day of my life."
"You're welcome."
"You're lucky I didn't drop you."
"I'm un-droppable."
Kate's mana pulsed with pure smugness. "Confirmed."
Lincoln ignored all of us. "That will be for later. The ones who want to see her face off with the Ætherbound will get their chance."
"Without my permission?!" I yelped.
He didn't answer.
"Now—" he called out again, "the final two names."
The stage shifted.
"Nora Bardot."
Sharp mana. Clean. Pure and honed like a spearhead. Her outline walked with weight, not heavy, but centered.
"Lirael Willowgrace."
The opposite. Calm. Her aura bloomed out, soft and wide, healer, I remembered her from the caves when i was still a child, she's so gotten so much stronger what are they feeding these elves?!.
No more names followed.
The stage was full.
Fifteen.
Plus one blind girl clinging to her childhood best friend like a tragic romantic cliché.
The silence swelled.
I could feel the entire city leaning forward.
Waiting.
And somewhere above us, behind the names, kings and war-bound promises, the world held its breath.