Morning on Aetheris
Twin suns rose over the horizon of Aetheris, spilling molten gold and violet across the sky. The light poured over rolling fields and clustered rooftops, bathing the small village of Kyralis in warmth. Here, mornings always felt gentle—the chirp of skybirds nesting in the rooftiles, the steady hum of the river wheels turning, and the scent of bread already wafting from the ovens of the market square.
For most villagers, the day began with routine. But for Ryven, routine always seemed like an inconvenience.
The boy kicked open the door to his modest home, yawning so loudly that the sound startled a flock of birds from the thatch roof. His dark hair stuck out at odd angles, his tunic half-buttoned, but his eyes burned with restless fire.
"Nova!" he shouted, hands cupped around his mouth. "Don't tell me you're still asleep! The suns are already up!"
His voice carried down the dirt road, bouncing off stone walls. A pair of older villagers paused in their sweeping, frowning at the disruption.
"That boy will wake the entire village one of these days," one muttered.
"Let him," the other said with a chuckle. "He's young. Let him burn."
Ryven ignored them, his attention fixed on the neighboring house. After a moment, the door opened with careful quiet, and out stepped Nova.
Where Ryven was chaos, Nova was composure. Her silver hair was neatly braided, her tunic properly tied, and her gaze sharp as ever. She carried a slim book under her arm, flipping it shut as she walked toward him with the calm of someone already tired of his antics.
"You wake the whole street every morning," she said flatly. "Do you enjoy the sound of your own voice that much?"
"That's the point!" Ryven grinned, spreading his arms as if presenting himself to the suns. "If the suns are up, the galaxy's up! You can't waste mornings."
Nova gave him a long stare before muttering, "Not everyone wants to live their life like they're already Guardians."
Ryven puffed his chest. "I'm not pretending. I'm training." He struck a dramatic pose, hand outstretched as if holding an invisible sword. "One day, when the galaxy trembles, they'll remember Ryven of Aetheris!"
"More likely they'll remember you as the loudest fool in Kyralis."
An old woman sweeping her porch snorted at the exchange. "Careful, Nova. Keep following him and you'll end up as foolish as he is."
Nova shrugged, though her lips twitched faintly as if holding back a smile.
---
Training in the Square
The square was alive with morning bustle. Merchants stacked crates, smiths hammered iron, children dashed between stalls. In the center stood the weathered training post—an old wooden pillar scarred from generations of practice, its surface a testament to sweat and stubbornness.
Ryven marched toward it with determination, Nova trailing behind. He grabbed a practice staff leaning against a fence, spinning it clumsily in his hands.
"Ready?" he asked, a grin tugging at his lips.
"You'll burn yourself out before midday," Nova sighed, drawing two wooden blades from the rack.
"That's why I've got you to slow me down," he teased.
Their sparring began. Dust kicked up as Ryven lunged, his strikes wild but powerful. Nova sidestepped with grace, her blades intercepting each swing with precise deflections. The clack of wood rang out, drawing curious eyes.
Ryven attacked like a storm—fast, reckless, burning bright. Nova countered like water—steady, adaptive, flowing around his fury.
A group of children gathered, clapping and shouting. "Go, Ryven! Show her!"
"Nova's gonna win, like always!" another shot back.
Nova ducked under Ryven's strike and tapped his ribs with a quick jab, making him stumble. She didn't even look smug.
"See?" she said.
Ryven gritted his teeth, then broke into a grin despite the sting. "Then I'll just have to train harder."
Near the fountain, an elderly man leaned on his cane, watching with twinkling eyes. Ryven's grandfather chuckled softly. "That spirit… he reminds me of someone I once knew."
---
Lunch and Banter
By midday, both Ryven and Nova were coated in dust and sweat. They collapsed on the grass near the square, catching their breath.
Ryven flopped onto his back, arms sprawled. "One of these days, Nova, I'm going to beat you. And when I do, you'll have to admit I'm Guardian material."
Nova calmly sipped from her water flask. "If you ever beat me, it'll mean I was distracted. That's not Guardian material."
"You're cold, you know that?"
"I'm realistic."
Ryven turned his head to look at her. Her braid had come slightly loose, strands sticking to her temple. For all her sharp words, she was still here, still training with him every day. He couldn't imagine mornings without her.
Before he could say something, a faint tremor rippled through the ground. His brow furrowed.
Nova froze as well, her hand lowering the flask. "Did you feel that?"
Ryven pushed himself upright. The square quieted as others noticed too—cups rattling on tables, dust shifting. A hunter glanced nervously toward the treeline.
Another tremor. Stronger. Birds scattered into the sky in a panicked flock.
The air grew heavy, charged, as if holding its breath.
Ryven swallowed, a strange excitement rising alongside his fear.
Then came the sound.
A howl. Low. Otherworldly. It rolled through the village, rattling windows and seizing hearts.
Nova's hand went to her blades instantly. "That's not an earthquake."
Ryven tightened his grip on the staff, his pulse hammering. "No. It's something else."
The villagers screamed as the first trees splintered at the forest's edge.
---
The Beast in the Forest
The treeline groaned.
Massive trunks splintered as if some colossal hand were crushing them like twigs. Leaves burst into the air in a violent storm of green, scattering across the village square. Villagers shielded their faces, children clung to their mothers.
Then it stepped out.
A creature unlike anything Ryven had ever seen emerged from the forest shadows. Its body was thick with jagged black armor, glistening with a sheen that looked alive. Its elongated skull pulsed with faint crimson veins, and when its maw opened, rows of serrated teeth glowed faintly red, as though fire smoldered inside its throat.
It moved on four massive limbs, each ending in claws that could rend stone. But what made Ryven's heart seize wasn't its size—it was its eyes. Burning, alien, intelligent.
"A—A Riftbeast…" an old villager stammered, backing away. "They said these things only appeared near warfronts, not here…"
The word shot through Ryven like lightning. Riftbeasts. Monsters born from the unstable tears in the galaxy—the very scars Guardians fought to keep closed. But why here? Why now?
---
Chaos in the Square
The Riftbeast roared. The sound shook Kyralis to its foundation, sending cracks racing through the plaster walls. A blast of heated air rolled from its throat, scattering market stalls like toys. Wooden beams flew, pottery shattered, screams pierced the air.
"Run! Get to the shelters!" the village elder shouted, waving his cane furiously toward the southern caves. "Now!"
Villagers scattered. Parents grabbed children, carts overturned in the scramble, goats bleated in terror as they broke free of their pens.
Ryven stood frozen for a breath too long. His staff trembled in his grip, every instinct screaming at him to flee.
"Ryven!"
Nova's sharp voice cut through his paralysis. She stood ready, blades drawn, her silver hair whipping in the wind. Her eyes were wide but steady, locked on the beast.
He exhaled. Right. He couldn't freeze. Not now.
"Help the others get away," Nova said.
"You're not seriously thinking of—"
"Do it, Ryven!"
Her tone left no room for argument. She darted forward, positioning herself between the monster and the villagers retreating down the path.
---
The First Clash
The Riftbeast lunged.
Its claws slammed into the earth, sending dirt and cobblestones spraying. Nova rolled aside, her twin blades slicing along its armored leg. Sparks erupted, metal screeching against something harder than bone. The beast shrieked and swiped at her, but she slid low beneath its strike, moving with impossible precision.
"Damn, Nova…" Ryven muttered, awe mixing with terror.
Then the beast turned its gaze on him.
Ryven's blood froze. Its crimson eyes narrowed, its maw splitting wider as if recognizing prey.
His hands shook. He had trained countless mornings, sparred countless times, but facing a Riftbeast wasn't like sparring Nova. It wasn't even close. This was real. This was death.
"Move!" Nova shouted.
The command snapped him back. He sprang sideways just as the beast's claw ripped into the ground where he'd been standing. Stones shattered, dust burst upward.
Ryven landed hard, his staff clutched tight. His lungs burned, but a strange fire flared in him too—part fear, part exhilaration. This was what he had always dreamed of. The battlefield. The fight.
But he was woefully unprepared.
---
Protecting the Villagers
As Ryven scrambled to his feet, a cry pierced the chaos. A child had fallen in the square, clutching his knee, too terrified to move. His mother screamed, but the crowd carried her away in the tide of fleeing villagers.
The Riftbeast's head swiveled toward the boy.
"No!" Ryven gasped, bolting forward.
The world seemed to slow. He could hear every ragged breath, every thunderous heartbeat. The beast raised its claw, shadows falling over the boy.
Ryven hurled himself forward with everything he had. He swung his staff upward, not to strike but to block. The claw crashed down. The impact rattled his bones, forcing him to his knees.
"Run!" Ryven shouted at the boy, voice cracking.
The child scrambled away, tears streaking his face, disappearing into the crowd.
The Riftbeast pressed harder, its claw grinding against the staff. Ryven's arms screamed with pain. His knees dug into the dirt. He was nothing compared to this monster, just a boy with a stick.
But he refused to break.
Then—
A flash of silver.
Nova's blades struck the beast's wrist, forcing it to recoil with an enraged roar. She grabbed Ryven's arm and yanked him up.
"You idiot," she hissed, breathless. "Trying to get yourself killed already?"
Ryven grinned despite the terror clawing at him. "Saved the kid, didn't I?"
She didn't answer, but her eyes softened for the briefest moment. Then the beast roared again, and the ground quaked.
---
The Village Burns
The Riftbeast unleashed a torrent of flame. Fire burst from its maw in a sweeping arc, consuming stalls and rooftops. The square lit up like dawn turned crimson. Smoke billowed, ash rained.
Villagers screamed as their homes ignited. The air stank of burning wood and fear.
Ryven's chest heaved. He couldn't stop shaking, but something deeper burned in him, fiercer than fear. Watching everything he loved torn apart, watching Nova risk herself, watching children nearly die—he clenched his teeth so hard it hurt.
One day… I'll stand against this. Not as a boy. As a Guardian.
But for now, all he could do was survive.