Morning light fell through the glass arches of Aether's Rest, brushing the sleeping roofs with molten gold. Dew clung to the flowerbeds of Aether's Garden, the only place where silence and bloom coexisted. Elira walked slowly through it, her fingers brushing the petals as though they might whisper back answers to her questions.
Beside her strolled Seren, calm and bright-eyed as always. Elira's voice was soft when she spoke. "Every time I close my eyes, Seren, I see faces I don't remember—smiles fading into fog. Maybe my dreams are just... unfinished memories."
Seren smiled faintly. "Dreams are seeds, Elira. They grow into meaning only when watered by will."
Elira looked at the horizon. "Do you remember the first time Rhazor and I met? It was after the siege at Silvermere. He saved me from a collapsing spire, said it was just instinct. But every time I think of it now... I wonder if it was the start of a story that shouldn't have begun."
The wind bent the tall grass. Seren placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Perhaps it was meant to teach you how deeply a heart can care—and how much it can endure."
Elira smiled faintly, lost in thought. Somewhere far away, hammers began to echo.
---
In the lower quarter of the village, Lynor stood shoulder to shoulder with the builders, the men who shaped Aether's Rest from sweat and dust. His hands, roughened by battle, now lifted stone instead of swords. He laughed with them, his humor brightening the toil.
"You lift slower than time itself!" he teased, slamming a stone block into place before the others could respond.
"Easy for you to say," one builder huffed. "You're the man who freed two kingdoms. We're just trying not to drop the walls."
Lynor grinned. "Then don't. A strong wall saves a thousand swords."
When the new barrier rose before them, sunlight broke through the clouds, scattering light across the valley. Lynor smiled, dust on his face, pride in his eyes.
"Enough work for one day," he said. "Let's drink to the sweat that built this place."
The builders cheered, and together they made their way to a nearby stall where Emberdew, the village's famed golden beverage, flowed like liquid fire. Laughter and clinking cups filled the air, as the scent of herbs and roasted grain lingered over the workmen's joy.
---
Night soon draped its silver cloak over Aether's Rest. Lanterns bloomed along the Skyledge, casting golden halos across the stone. Thorn, Maurice, and Vaeth sat together, the wind curling around them like a quiet listener.
Each held a small cup of Emberdew, its warmth glowing through the glass. "Feels like we've earned a breath," Maurice said, eyes tracing the stars.
Thorn took a sip and nodded. "Feels like peace. That's what scares me."
Maurice chuckled softly. "Peace never lasts long, especially for men like us. I still remember Rhazor back when he trained under me — reckless, brilliant, always looking for something to prove."
Vaeth's gaze shifted toward the horizon. "You've all seen much, but not all things meant to be seen. You seven are fragments of something larger. Among you lies the one who will lift this village beyond any of our names."
Thorn frowned. "Prophecies don't feed mouths, Vaeth."
"Maybe not," Vaeth replied, "but they keep the soul alive long enough to find its meal."
Thorn leaned back. "Then tell us, wise one. What keeps your soul alive?"
Vaeth's smile was faint. "A sin I can't undo."
Maurice looked at him curiously. "Go on then. If there's a story, tell it before the Emberdew runs dry."
___
That same night, far across the garden, Elira stirred in her sleep. Shadows swam through her dreams—faces of a family she could no longer name. Voices called from the mist, echoing a single word: "Alenwyre."
It was her family name—lost to time, burned from the histories. In her dream, she saw crowds cheering the House of Alenwyre, her mother radiant with pride. Then the cheers melted into screams, and fire devoured the vision.
Elira jolted awake, the name still trembling on her lips.
Outside, the winds of Aether's Rest shifted—carrying the faint echo of a beast's cry from beyond the mountains.
___
Vaeth's eyes dimmed, his voice lowering as the night deepened. "Before you came, Aether's Rest was not the haven you see now. My father ruled it—a man who believed power was purity."
He glanced at the stars, then continued, "He discovered a chamber beneath the vaults—the Vault of Cinders. There, he practiced forbidden rites, draining the life from innocents and, in the end, sacrificing his own wife—my mother—for what he called the Breath of the Abyss. It twisted him. His voice grew hollow, his veins turned black. But I... I could not stop him. So I broke him."
Thorn's expression hardened. "How?"
"I told him the truth he refused to face." Vaeth's tone grew sharper. "That he had already died the day he killed her. That the only redemption left for him was silence."
Maurice lowered his cup, eyes shadowed. "And he listened?"
"He did." Vaeth's voice trembled faintly. "The next dawn, I found him gone—his own blade buried deep. But something else rose in his place. From his blood and the magic he left behind came a creature of shadow—vast and hungry."
The air around them grew still.
"It screamed once," Vaeth whispered, "shaking the ground, and then it flew—wings wide enough to cover the moon. That is what my father left us. That is what waits beyond the ridge even now."
Thorn clenched his jaw. "So the beast... it's still alive."
Vaeth nodded slowly. "And one day, one of us will have to face it."
Silence lingered on the Skyledge. The moon hung heavy above, its light falling cold across their faces. Below, the village slept, unaware that a shadow from its past was still watching—waiting.