The night over Valencrest had turned unnaturally silent.
After the strange surge of power that erupted from Aerion's body, the entire palace had fallen into confusion. Guards rushed across the corridors, knights gathered near the walls, and the royal mages began casting protective barriers across the capital.
Something had changed.
Something ancient had awakened.
And everyone could feel it.
But at the center of it all stood Aerion.
Still on the palace balcony.
Still staring at his hands.
The golden glow that had appeared beneath his skin was gone now, but the warmth remained deep inside his chest, like a quiet fire that refused to fade.
Lyria stood beside him, watching him carefully.
Her mind was racing.
"Aerion…" she said softly.
He didn't respond immediately.
His eyes were still fixed on the distant mountains where the massive pillar of shadow continued rising into the sky.
"That power…," she continued.
"You felt it too, right?"
Aerion nodded slowly.
"Yes."
"What did it feel like?"
He took a long breath.
"Like something… waking up."
Lyria's expression grew serious.
Before she could ask anything else, hurried footsteps echoed behind them.
"Aerion!"
They both turned.
King Alric, Aerion's father, stepped onto the balcony along with three royal mages and the elderly royal seer, Master Tharion.
The old man looked pale.
Not frightened.
But shocked.
His ancient eyes locked onto Aerion immediately.
"You felt it," the old seer whispered.
Aerion frowned slightly.
"You knew this would happen?"
The old man didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he slowly walked forward.
Closer.
And closer.
Until he stood only a few steps away from Aerion.
Then he asked a single question.
"Tell me… what color did the power have?"
Aerion hesitated.
"Gold."
The moment he said it—
Master Tharion's staff slipped from his hand and clattered against the stone floor.
The old man staggered slightly.
"Impossible…"
The king immediately stepped forward.
"Tharion, what is it?"
The old seer slowly lifted his trembling hand and pointed at Aerion.
"That power…"
His voice was shaking now.
"…belongs to a king who died three thousand years ago."
The balcony fell completely silent.
Lyria looked between them.
"What king?"
The old man slowly raised his eyes toward the sky.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"The King of Eternity."
Aerion frowned.
"I've never heard of that."
"No one has," Tharion replied.
"Because his name was erased from history."
The wind moved across the balcony again.
Even the torches flickered strangely.
King Alric crossed his arms.
"Explain."
The old seer nodded slowly.
"Three thousand years ago… before Valencrest existed… before most kingdoms were even founded…"
"There was one ruler who united the entire continent."
"A king so powerful that even the ancient shadows feared him."
Lyria's voice was quiet.
"What was his name?"
The old man's eyes slowly moved back to Aerion.
"…Aetherion."
The name echoed strangely in the air.
Aerion blinked.
"Aetherion?"
"Yes."
"The Eternal King."
The old man's voice grew darker.
"He wasn't just a ruler."
"He was something far greater."
Aerion felt a strange chill run down his spine.
"What do you mean?"
The old seer spoke carefully.
"Aetherion possessed a power that no mortal should have."
"The power to manipulate the very essence of existence."
Lyria's eyes widened.
"That's impossible."
"So everyone believed," the old man said quietly.
"Until the war began."
King Alric stepped closer.
"What war?"
"The War of Endless Night."
The torches flickered again.
And far away in the mountains, the shadow pillar twisted violently.
Tharion continued.
"The shadows you see now…"
"They are not just creatures."
"They are fragments of something far worse."
"A being older than this world."
Aerion felt the golden warmth in his chest pulse slightly again.
"The ancient enemy of Aetherion."
"Three thousand years ago, that king fought the shadows alone."
"And he won."
Lyria leaned forward.
"Then why was his name erased?"
The old seer's expression darkened.
"Because no one knows how he died."
The silence grew heavy.
"But before he disappeared," Tharion continued slowly,
"he made one final prophecy."
Aerion's heart skipped slightly.
"What prophecy?"
The old man looked directly into his eyes.
"That one day… when the shadows returned…"
"…his blood would awaken again."
The golden warmth in Aerion's chest flared slightly.
Lyria whispered softly.
"That's why the prophecy reacted to you…"
The old seer nodded.
"Yes."
Then he spoke the words that froze everyone.
"Aerion…"
"You are not just a prince."
"You are the last descendant of Aetherion."
The King Who Defeated the Shadows.
The wind exploded across the balcony.
The comet above the sky suddenly burned brighter.
And deep inside the massive pillar of darkness beyond the mountains—
Two enormous red eyes slowly opened.
A voice older than time echoed through the shadows.
"…Impossible."
"…That bloodline was destroyed."
But it could feel it now.
That power.
That presence.
The same power that had once nearly erased it from existence.
And it had returned.
Inside the palace balcony, Aerion clenched his fists slowly.
Golden light flickered faintly beneath his skin again.
Not uncontrolled this time.
Awake.
Alive.
Watching.
Lyria stepped beside him and took his hand without hesitation.
Her voice was calm.
"So what if he's the descendant of some ancient king?"
She looked at the dark horizon.
"We'll still defeat whatever comes."
Aerion looked down at their joined hands.
Then back toward the distant shadows.
And for the first time since the prophecy awakened—
He smiled slightly.
Because if the ancient enemy had returned…
Then so had its greatest nightmare.
The bloodline of the Eternal King.
And this time—
The story wasn't ending in the past.
It was beginning again.