In the dark, dense forest of this planet—Sylvaris—lay what remained of the Human kind, scattered across the globe of this world.
They used to be on top of the world—now reduced and seen as mere objects and worktoys to be exploited with.
It was a special day—not really but, it was one of the special days of the remaining human populace—because one of the Human families gave birth to a child. Normally, it would be a joyous occasion.
But the fellow human villagers looked on with heavy eyes and deep sadness—another poor human soul, born into this world of shackles.
His parents, however, smiled. It was their dream to have a child, and despite the filth and the fear. They were getting their dream.
They named their child: 'Aether.'
The dad, a rugged man named Kael with scars mapping the history of his servitude on his arms, crouched over, staring at the little newborn with overflowing happiness.
Elara, the mother, sat propped up against the damp, mossy wall of their hidden hovel. She pulled the rough, woollen blanket tighter around the infant, her fingers trembling—not from the cold, but from a terrifying rush of love and dread.
"Look at him, Kael," Elara whispered, her voice cracking.
She looked down at Aether.
He was so small, so pale, his eyes shut tight against the dim light of their dying hearth. "He's... he's perfect. And that is why I am terrified."
Kael reached out, his calloused finger gently stroking the baby's cheek. "He's strong, El. I can feel it. He won't be like us."
"He is us, Kael," Elara replied sharp and low, a sudden bitterness seizing her tone. She rocked the baby gently, her gaze drifting to the cracks in the wooden ceiling where the grey sky of the Exiled Lands peeked through.
"He needs to know," she murmured, more to the sleeping baby than to her husband. "Before the world breaks him, he needs to know who we were."
She leaned in close to Aether's ear, her voice dropping to a haunting lullaby.
"Long ago, little Aether... we didn't hide in the mud," she began, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "We lived in the Cities of Glass and Gold. Humans walked with heads held high. We didn't need claws, or wings, or fangs. We had ingenuity. We had spirit."
Outside the hovel, a twig snapped—loud as a thunderclap in the silence.
Kael froze, his hand instinctively going to the rusted iron shiv he kept at his belt. The physical tension in the room spiked. The villagers outside went deathly quiet.
Elara pulled Aether closer to her chest and waited.
Elara waited until the wind howled again, masking the noise. She let out a shaky breath and continued, her voice trembling with the weight of history.
"But then the Coalition formed," she whispered, her face twisting in disgust. "The Elves, with their arrogance, claimed we squandered the Magical Spectrum."
"The Beastmen claimed we were too frail for the Physical Spectrum. They said Kraton and Aetheros turned their backs on us."
"They burned our cities, Aether. They took our fertile plains and built their 'Utopia' atop our bones."
She looked up at Kael, her eyes pleading. "We named him Aether... a mockery of the God who abandoned us. Do you think... do you think the Gods will punish us for such hubris?"
Kael gripped Elara's shoulder, his grip firm and grounding. "Let them try. We have nothing left to lose but him. And we won't let them take him."
Suddenly, the baby stirred. Aether's eyes opened for the first time.