Kael had always imagined his second life—if there ever were one—would be peaceful. Maybe a quiet village. A warm hearth. Possibly an orchard. Not this.
He sat, now half-lucid, on a rickety cart rattling along a forest road that pulsed with magical fog and ethereal whispers. The wheels creaked like they bore the weight of more than just wood and steel—like they carried fate itself. Elira Vaelthorn, the cold, silver-haired knight who'd fished him out of his volcanic grave, rode at the front, unmoved by the sounds slithering through the trees.
Kael coughed, his chest still sore. The smell of smoke had faded, but his skin still shimmered faintly, betraying the draconic aura within. Every time he blinked, he saw remnants of the dream—the titanic dragon, the fractured selves. The words "You are all of us, and none" echoed in his skull like a mantra.
"We're close," Elira said without turning. Her voice was clinical, but not unkind. "You'll see the outer gate soon. Try not to drool."
Kael leaned to the side and stared into the horizon. Then he saw it.
Aetherion.
A city, no—a fortress—built upon a floating island that hovered over a massive sinkhole filled with swirling red clouds. Jagged obsidian spires clawed upward, while golden runes pulsated in vast rings around the citadel's base. Above it all stood a colossal gate made of shimmering crystal and molten stone, rotating slowly as if alive. Guardian constructs—half lion, half wyvern—circled it, their eyes glowing blue.
He gaped. "That's... a school?"
"It's an academy. And a prison. And a battlefield. Depends on your grades."
Kael muttered, "I miss death."
Elira cracked a smile. It was brief, but real.
As the cart reached the outer platform, Kael was bombarded by new stimuli. Hundreds of figures—some human, others not—stood in lines, argued at kiosks, or simply floated above the obsidian tiles like meditating monks. Students wore robes, armor, even rags. A girl with scales instead of skin lounged atop a two-headed basilisk while a boy with a flaming halo bartered with a shadow vendor.
A bell tolled. Deep. Resounding.
"New initiates," Elira muttered. "They're always so noisy."
Kael stumbled from the cart, his legs still half-jelly. Elira followed and tossed him a metal armband etched with crimson glyphs.
"What's this?"
"Your identification crest. It tracks your mana signature and performance. If it turns black, you've either died, gone rogue, or blown yourself up."
"Comforting."
She smirked. "You'll be fine. Probably."
A thunderous roar split the sky.
Kael looked up—and saw a dragon.
Not a fire-breathing lizard like in old fantasy. This beast was translucent, made of starlight and storm. Its wings carved wind tunnels as it circled the gate, its voice cracking the heavens.
"Skywarden," Elira explained. "Headmaster's pet. Trained to incinerate dropouts."
Kael paled. "Are you joking?"
"You'll find out."
Inside the orientation hall, a vast cathedral of stone and levitating runes, Kael joined a mass of recruits standing before a floating platform. A voice echoed through the space—calm, cold, commanding.
"Welcome, initiates, to Aetherion."
The speaker appeared. A woman with antlers of gold and skin like marble descended from above. Her dress shimmered like moonlight over snow, but her eyes held no warmth.
"I am Arch-Dean Selvarien. You are here because you are monsters. Misfits. Abominations of blood, curse, or creation. Aetherion does not save you. It refines you—into weapons."
Whispers spread like wildfire.
"Some of you will ascend. Others will be unmade. All of you will be tested."
Selvarien raised her hand. A burst of light erupted, forming a crystalline scoreboard midair.
[Welcome to Aetherion: Binding Trials Initiated.]
Names began appearing, including Kael's:
Kael Raventhorn — Classification: Hybrid Anomaly — Collapse Timer: 84:12:03
Trial Status: Uninitiated. Danger Tier: Crimson.
He shivered.
Selvarien spoke again. "Your first trial begins at sundown. Until then, prepare. The Collapse waits for no one."
The lights dimmed.
Later, Kael found himself alone in a dorm chamber—though "chamber" felt like a stretch. It was a circular room of blackstone, filled with floating candles and a mirror that whispered secrets when touched. His assigned uniform—a dark jacket with red trim—fit snugly over his still-burning skin.
He stared into the mirror.
"Who are you now?"
A knock.
He turned. Elira stood at the door, arms crossed.
"Training room. Now."
He blinked. "What? Why?"
"You need to manifest your Core. Or you'll die tomorrow."
No room for protest. He followed.
The training room was underground, vast, and dimly lit. Runes pulsed beneath glass tiles, and elemental crystals floated in cages around the perimeter.
Elira tossed him a sparring staff. "First things first. Focus your mana. Not the raw fire. Deeper. To your Heartroot."
Kael furrowed his brow. Sweat beaded instantly.
Elira circled him like a wolf. "You're fractured. Your draconic blood is unstable. Your core is misaligned. If you don't anchor it, the Awakening will eat you alive."
He growled. "I'm trying."
Suddenly, Elira slammed her boot into the floor, sending a shockwave.
Kael stumbled. Pain flared.
She shouted, "Stop trying. Let go! You were born of fire. Feel it!"
Something snapped inside him.
Not pain. Not fear.
Rage.
He roared.
Flames burst from his back, wings half-formed, curling around him. His staff melted. His eyes glowed.
[Core Formation Initiated: Draconic Variant — Class: Emberborne Catalyst]
Elira shielded her eyes. "Good. Now bind it—before it binds you."
Kael clutched his chest. Threads of light and fire coiled around his ribcage, sealing the unstable pulse. A burning symbol etched itself into his sternum.
Then silence.
Elira approached, looking almost impressed.
"You're still rough. But not useless."
Kael panted. "You're... the worst coach ever."
"You're welcome."
They stared at each other for a moment too long.
Kael smirked. "You care."
She turned away. "I care about not having to clean up your ash."
Still, she lingered.
Outside, the sky darkened. Sundown loomed.
And with it, the first trial.