The Aetherion domain had not weakened.
It had simply… relaxed.
I felt it the moment I stepped beyond the inner courtyard. The formations still hummed with precision, the halls still carried authority, but the constant, instinctive restraint that once governed every movement was gone.
Ten years without me had rewritten expectations.
Servants bowed correctly, but without hesitation. Elders greeted me with courtesy rather than wariness. Empyreal Heaven had reached a quiet conclusion in my absence.
I was no longer relevant.
Good.
Mother was waiting for me in the outer hall.
She looked exactly as she always had.
Time had not touched her — not her posture, not her gaze, not the calm authority that clung to her presence like an unspoken law. A million years could pass and Elara Aetherion would still look the same.
When she saw me, she did not hesitate.
She crossed the hall and embraced me firmly, without ceremony.
"You came out," she said.
"I finished," I replied.
She pulled back just enough to study me, her eyes sharp, discerning.
"You're steadier," she said. Not a question.
I nodded.
That was when I sensed it.
A shift — faint, controlled, unmistakable.
Mother followed my gaze and smiled, something warm passing briefly through her otherwise composed expression.
"It's time," she said.
The birth took place that night.
The skies of Empyreal Heaven did not fracture. The laws did not hesitate. But spirit currents gathered naturally above the Aetherion domain, forming soft arcs of light that flowed in deliberate harmony.
It was a phenomenon heaven understood.
Talent.
Promise.
Order.
The child's cry rang clear and strong.
When I entered the chamber, the spirit currents stabilized.
Not diminished.
Refined.
Mother rested against silk cushions, untroubled by exhaustion, her presence as composed as ever. In her arms lay my sister — small, warm, undeniably alive.
Aurelia Aetherion.
She turned her head at the sound of my steps, her gaze unfocused yet aware. Her spirit fluttered, bright and responsive, reaching outward without fear.
She reached for me.
I stepped closer.
The moment my fingers brushed hers, the surrounding radiance settled completely, smoothing into perfect alignment — as though the world itself had been waiting for confirmation.
A murmur passed through the attendants.
"She's gifted."
"Exceptionally."
I felt it clearly.
Her spirit flowed easily, flexible and radiant. Where mine was weight, hers was movement. Where mine was pressure, hers was harmony.
Different.
But strong.
"She'll be loud," I said quietly.
Mother smiled. "Then you'll remain the quiet one."
I looked down at Aurelia.
"I already am."
The ceremony was held three days later.
Proper. Public. Celebrated.
Spirit arrays activated cleanly, producing results that pleased every observer present. Alignment was clear. Aptitude unquestionable. Potential abundant.
Exactly what Empyreal Heaven wanted to see.
I stood to the side throughout, unnoticed by most.
Until I wasn't.
"So," a voice said behind me, amused. "You finally decided to rejoin the world?"
I turned.
The speaker was a young man, his cultivation evident and aggressively refined. His robes bore the sigil of a prominent allied family, his posture relaxed with entitlement.
His gaze flicked to the ceremonial platform, then back to me.
"Your sister's talent almost makes people forget you exist," he said lightly.
I felt it then.
Not anger.
Interference.
The spirit around me condensed — inward, controlled, absolute.
I met his eyes.
He smiled wider, mistaking restraint for weakness.
"I suppose even the Aetherions produce defects now and then—"
He never finished.
His spirit collapsed inward without sound, compressed beneath an authority it could not resist or comprehend. His body followed a heartbeat later, striking the floor lifelessly.
No backlash.
No struggle.
Just absence.
The hall froze.
I stepped past the body and returned to the platform, kneeling beside Aurelia. I placed a hand gently between her eyes and the fallen form.
"Don't look," I said softly.
She grasped my finger instead.
The pressure lifted.
Sound returned. Panic followed.
I stood and faced the hall.
"She is Aetherion," I said evenly. "And she is under my protection."
No one challenged me.
Because this time, Empyreal Heaven did not misunderstand what it had witnessed.
This was not cultivation.
This was authority exercised without permission.
And after ten years of forgetting, heaven remembered me.