When Kael awoke, the world was painted in gold.
Not the rich hue of sunlight through glass, but threads — faint, glowing lines pulsing beneath his skin. They flickered and died as he blinked, leaving only the scent of ash and herbs in the air.
He lay on a low wooden cot, his body wrapped in rough linen. His limbs ached like something had chewed through his veins and spat him out.
"Ah, you're awake."
The voice came from a woman sitting by the hearth, gray hair coiled like smoke, her hands tracing runes above a simmering pot, the firelight catching her eyes sharp as amber glass.
"You nearly drained the whole room," she said, stirring the brew. "A normal core can't do that. Tell me, boy… what are you?"
Kael tried to answer, but his throat felt scraped raw. "I… I don't know."
The woman hummed, unconvinced. "Your pulse hums with aether. But it's backwards — like a river flowing uphill. When I poured mana into you, you took it. All of it." She turned, eyes narrowing. "That should've killed you."
He sat up slowly, staring at his shaking hands. "I don't want anyone's power," he said. "I didn't ask for this."
"No one ever does." She dipped a rag into the potion, wrung it out, and pressed it to his chest. Beneath his ribs, a faint warmth pulsed — steady, alien. "You're alive, which means something, or someone, wants you to be."
Outside, the twin suns were setting-one crimson, one pale gold. Their light spilled through the cracks in the walls, painting Kael's shadow across the floor.
For a moment, he thought he saw another shape behind it, a tall indistinct silhouette haloed in white fire.
He blinked. It was gone.
"Stay tonight," the woman said. "The forests aren't safe, and the Guild will come asking questions. A boy who drinks mana like water doesn't go unnoticed."
"Guild?" Kael repeated. The word was heavy with age and bureaucracy.
"The Mage Guild," she said. "They run this kingdom's veins. You cross them, you disappear."
Kael's gut twisted. He remembered - dimly - running through trees, being hunted. His breath hitched. "They already came for me once."
The old woman gave him a long unreadable look. "Then next time, you'd better be ready."
She handed him a small shard of crystal: it shimmered faintly blue.
"Try to draw from it."
Kael hesitated. "If I absorb it—
"That's the point".
He wrapped his fingers around the crystal. It vibrated and then cracked — light rushing through his arm like fire in his veins. He gasped, but instead of pain, there was clarity. The world lit up.
He could feel everything: the hum of mana in the air, the whisper of leaves outside, even the faint echo of the woman's own energy, a candle flickering in her chest.
Then he heard something else.
A voice. Distant. Layered like two tones at once.
"Wake up, Kael. The seal won't hold forever."
His vision blurred. In the beat of a heart, he saw not the cottage — but a huge hall of light, swirling runes of gold in endless motion. A figure stood in front of him — faceless, divine.
Then it was gone. The crystal turned to dust in his palm. Kael stared at his shaking hand. "What was that?" The woman's expression was wary. "Boy," she whispered, "you shouldn't be able to touch divine aether." He looked up then, his eyes wide with fear and wonder. "Then what am I?"