Ilias woke to sunlight cutting through the window like a blade.
For a moment, he didn't move. Just lay there, staring at the ceiling of Seraph's apartment, feeling the warmth of her pressed against his side, listening to the city waking up beyond the walls. Traffic humming. Vendors setting up shop. Someone's radio playing old Afrobeat through an open window.
Home.
He turned his head, watched her sleep. She looked peaceful like this—no worry lines, no tension in her jaw, just the soft rise and fall of her breathing. He wanted to memorize it. The way her hair fell across her face. The way her hand rested on his chest. The way the morning light painted her in gold.
Twenty-nine days left.
The thought sat in his chest like a stone.
He slipped out of bed carefully, trying not to wake her, and padded to the window. The city sprawled below—alive, breathing, rebuilding. He could see the construction crews already at work on the damaged districts. Could see the crater to the east, dark and deep, a scar he'd carved into his home.
*You made that.*
Seraph's words from yesterday echoed in his head.
Yeah. He'd made that.
His hand drifted to the Academy invitation card on the windowsill. Sleek. Cold. The number printed on the back seemed to glow in the morning light.
He could call. Ask questions. Figure out what he was walking into.
His fingers hovered over the card.
Then he pulled back.
They'd come for him. He knew that much. A Blessed without training wasn't just dangerous—he was a ticking bomb. One Divine-level Tuned could level a city block. Ilias? At full power? He could end a planet if he lost control.
They'd come.
He didn't need to chase them.
He set the card down and turned away from the window.
Seraph stirred, blinking awake. "You okay?"
Ilias forced a smile. "Yeah. Just thinking."
"Dangerous habit."
"Tell me about it."
She sat up, sheets pooling around her waist, and studied his face. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Just..." He gestured vaguely at the window. "Twenty-nine days."
"Then let's not waste them standing around."
She swung her legs out of bed, stretched, and headed for the tiny kitchen. "I'm making breakfast. You're helping."
Ilias followed, grateful for the distraction.
---
They burned the eggs.
Not on purpose—Seraph got distracted trying to show Ilias how to flip them without breaking the yolk, and he got distracted watching her, and by the time either of them noticed, smoke was curling up from the pan.
"Shit—"
Seraph lunged for the stove, killed the heat, waved a towel at the smoke detector before it could scream.
Ilias stared at the blackened mess. "I think we murdered them."
"We gave them a warrior's death."
"Pretty sure that's not how eggs work."
She laughed anyway, the sound bright and warm and entirely too precious. They scraped the remains into the trash, made toast instead, and ate standing at the counter like they had all the time in the world.
They didn't.
Halfway through, Seraph's expression shifted—something heavy settling over her.
"My family's estate," she said quietly. "The inheritance. I got another call from the bank."
Ilias set his toast down. "What'd they say?"
"Same thing. I'm the sole heir. Everything goes to me." Her voice was flat, hollow. "The house. The accounts. All of it."
"Seraph—"
"I don't want it." She looked at him, eyes hard. "I don't want their money. I don't want their legacy. They're dead because of what they did, and I—"
Ilias took her hand. "You don't have to decide now."
"But I'll have to eventually."
"Yeah. But not today."
She squeezed his hand, nodded, and they didn't talk about it again.
---
Kojo was waiting for him at the training yard.
Arms crossed. Gauntlets gleaming in the afternoon sun. The same gauntlets that had belonged to Ogun, god of war, fused to Kojo's forearms like a second skin.
"You're late," Kojo said.
"I'm on time."
"You're *late*."
Ilias sighed. "What do you want, Kojo?"
"To make sure you don't embarrass yourself at the Academy." Kojo gestured to the empty yard. "Get in the ring."
"I'm still healing—"
"You think they're gonna care about that? You're going to a school full of Blessed, Ilias. They're gonna push you. Hard. And if you're not ready, they're gonna break you."
Ilias opened his mouth to argue, saw the look in Kojo's eyes, and shut up.
He stepped into the ring.
---
It was brutal.
Kojo didn't hold back—didn't give him time to think, to breathe, to do anything but *react*. The gauntlets hit like freight trains, each blow shaking the ground, and Ilias was running on fumes.
Fifteen percent. Maybe twenty on a good day. His Resonance flickered weakly in his chest, trying to keep up, but it wasn't enough.
He dodged. Blocked. Countered when he could.
But Kojo was faster. Stronger. *Better*.
A fist caught Ilias in the ribs—pain exploded through his side, knocked the air from his lungs. He stumbled, barely stayed upright.
"Come on!" Kojo barked. "Is that all you've got?"
Ilias gritted his teeth, pushed harder.
His Resonance flared—wild, uncontrolled—and for a split second, he felt it. The raw power that had destroyed the Entity. The force that had carved a crater into the earth.
He lashed out.
The blast caught Kojo square in the chest, sent him flying backward, crashing into the far wall with a sickening *crack*.
Ilias froze.
"Kojo—"
Kojo pushed himself upright, coughing, blood on his lip. But he was grinning.
"*That's* what I'm talking about."
Ilias's hands were shaking. "I almost—"
"But you didn't." Kojo wiped the blood away, walked back over. "You lost control for a second. But you pulled it back. That's progress."
"I could've killed you."
"Yeah. You could've." Kojo clapped a hand on his shoulder. "That's why you need the Academy, little brother. You need to learn how to use this without burning yourself—or everyone around you—to ash."
Ilias didn't have an answer for that.
---
The Morrows looked different in daylight.
Ilias walked the streets he'd grown up on, hands in his pockets, taking it all in. People were rebuilding—new walls going up where old ones had crumbled, fresh paint covering scorch marks, life pushing back against the destruction.
But the crater was still there.
Ilias stopped at the edge of the barrier they'd put up around it. Yellow tape. Warning signs. *DANGER: UNSTABLE GROUND.*
He stared into the darkness.
Three city blocks. Gone. Just... gone.
"Still can't believe you did that."
Ilias turned. Rhea stood a few feet away, arms crossed, studying him with that sharp look she always had. Kojo's fiancée. Tough as nails, twice as smart, and entirely unimpressed by Blessed powers.
"I didn't mean to," Ilias said.
"I know. Doesn't change what happened." She stepped up beside him, looked into the crater. "People are scared, you know. Not of you, exactly. But of what you *could* do."
"I'm leaving. That should help."
"Maybe." She glanced at him. "Or maybe they'll just be scared you'll come back and do it again."
Ilias's jaw tightened. "I would never—"
"I know that. You know that. But fear doesn't care about intention." She softened, just slightly. "Look, I'm not trying to make you feel worse. I'm just saying... be careful. People don't forget things like this."
She left him standing there, staring at the scar he'd left behind.
---
That night, they gathered at Kojo's place.
Not a formal dinner. Just... everyone showing up, one by one, until the small apartment was packed with noise and warmth and too many bodies in too small a space.
Kojo, Myra, Revub, Seraph, a handful of others from the Morrows. His family. The only family he had left.
Revub cooked—of course he did—and soon the air was thick with the smell of jollof rice and fried plantains and chicken stew. Music played softly in the background. People talked over each other, laughing, arguing about seasoning, about who was the better fighter, about nothing and everything.
Ilias sat in the corner, watching.
Myra caught his eye, raised her drink. "You good, little brother?"
"Yeah," he lied.
She didn't believe him. But she didn't push.
Eventually, Kojo stood, raised his bottle, and the room went quiet.
"To Ilias," he said, voice steady. "May he come back better than he left."
Everyone drank.
Ilias felt something hot and painful lodge itself in his throat.
"Thank you," he managed. "All of you. For... for everything."
Revub grinned. "Don't get all sappy on us, guy. You're not dead yet."
"Just leaving for school," Myra added. "Not like you're going to war."
But it felt like war.
It felt like goodbye.
---
Later, when everyone had gone home and the apartment was quiet again, Ilias climbed to the roof.
Alone.
The city stretched out before him—lights flickering on as night fell, two moons rising in the unfamiliar sky, music drifting up from open windows. He sat on the edge, legs dangling over empty air, and let himself *feel* it.
The fear. The doubt. The weight of what was coming.
Twenty-nine days.
Then everything changed.
He thought about calling Seraph. Thought about going back down, curling up beside her, pretending the morning wouldn't come.
But he didn't.
He just sat there, staring at the stars, and told himself he wasn't alone.
Even if it felt like he was.
---
The morning of departure came too fast.
Ilias woke before dawn, packed what little he had—clothes, the carved figure the old woman had given him, the invitation card—and stood in Seraph's apartment one last time.
She was still asleep.
He kissed her forehead, whispered something he wasn't sure she heard, and left before he could change his mind.
---
The pickup point was an abandoned lot on the edge of the Morrows. Empty. Quiet. Marked on the card with coordinates and a time.
Ilias arrived early.
So did everyone else.
Kojo. Myra. Revub. Seraph.
They stood in a loose circle, no one quite sure what to say.
Revub broke the silence first, shoving a wrapped package into Ilias's hands. "Food. Won't last long, but... thought you'd want something from home."
Ilias took it, throat tight. "Thanks."
Myra punched his shoulder—not hard, but enough to sting. "Don't get soft out there."
"I won't."
Kojo pulled him aside, away from the others. His expression was serious. Dangerous.
"Listen to me," Kojo said quietly. "You're my brother. Blood or not, you're my *brother*. And I need you to come back. You understand?"
Ilias nodded.
Kojo's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Good. Because if you don't, I'm coming to get you myself."
They stood there for a moment, and then Kojo pulled him into a hug—quick, fierce, over before Ilias could fully process it.
When Kojo stepped back, his eyes were hard again.
"Go learn. Get strong. Then come home."
Ilias's voice cracked. "I will."
Seraph was waiting.
She took his hand, led him a few steps away from the others, and just... looked at him. Memorizing. The same way he'd memorized her that first morning.
"Come back to me," she whispered.
"I will. I promise."
She reached up, pulled something from around her neck—a small charm, her mother's, worn and delicate—and pressed it into his palm.
"So you don't forget."
Ilias closed his fingers around it. "I could never."
She leaned in, and he thought she was going to kiss him.
Instead, she pressed her forehead to his—close, intimate, grounding.
Then she *flicked* him.
Hard.
Right in the center of his forehead.
"Ow—what the—"
"Your head shouldn't be in the gutter always," she said, smiling even though her eyes were wet.
Ilias laughed despite himself, despite the ache in his chest, despite everything.
"I love you," he said.
"I know." She stepped back. "Now go before I change my mind about letting you leave."
---
The ship descended from the sky like a falling star.
Sleek. Organic. Green and blue hues blending seamlessly, like it had been grown rather than built. The hull shimmered faintly in the early morning light, bioluminescent patterns tracing its surface.
It landed without sound.
A door opened.
And the Guide stepped out.
Ilias recognized him immediately. The same Blessed who'd given him the invitation. The same one who'd thrown Kojo out a window.
Kojo's entire body went rigid.
The Guide's eyes flicked to him, something unreadable passing across his face.
Kojo stepped forward, slow and deliberate, and the air around him seemed to *crackle*. Ogun's gauntlets hummed, resonating with barely restrained power.
"You," Kojo said, voice low and dangerous.
The Guide didn't flinch. "Me."
"If *anything* happens to my brother—" Kojo's hands curled into fists, the gauntlets glowing red-hot. "And I mean *anything*—you won't be throwing me through windows. I will find you. And I will end you. Are we clear?"
The Guide met his gaze, steady. Unflinching.
Then, slowly, he inclined his head.
"Crystal clear."
Kojo held his stare for another long moment, then stepped back.
The Guide turned to Ilias. "It's time."
Ilias looked back at his family one last time.
Kojo, arms crossed, jaw tight.
Myra, trying to smile and failing.
Revub, giving him a thumbs-up that looked more desperate than confident.
Seraph, hand pressed to her chest, tears streaming down her face.
Ilias raised his hand in a wave.
They waved back.
Then he turned and walked toward the ship.
The door closed behind him with a soft *hiss*, sealing him inside.
---
The interior was quiet. Clean. Minimalist. Just him, the Guide, and rows of empty seats.
"We're traveling to Aeon," the Guide said, not looking at him. "It will take three days."
"Three days? Where *is* this place?"
"Far enough that you'll need to adjust." The Guide gestured to a door at the far end. "Sleep pods are through there. I suggest you use them. The journey is... disorienting for first-timers."
Ilias wanted to ask more questions. Wanted to know what he was walking into. Wanted to know if he'd made the right choice.
But the Guide had already turned away, heading toward the cockpit.
Ilias stood there, alone in the belly of the ship, and watched through the viewport as Elyria began to shrink.
The city. The crater. The people.
Home.
Getting smaller.
Smaller.
Gone.
---
The sleep pod was cold.
Ilias lay down, staring at the ceiling, and tried not to think about how far he was from everything he knew.
His eyes drifted shut.
And the nightmares came.
---
*The Entity. Darkness. The void pulling him down, down, down—*
*"You cannot escape me, Ilias Venn."*
*Tendrils wrapping around his throat, his chest, squeezing—*
*"You will drown in silence."*
*He couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream. Couldn't—*
---
Ilias woke with a gasp, heart hammering, sweat soaking through his shirt.
The pod was still dark.
The ship was still humming.
And the Guide's voice crackled over the intercom.
"We've arrived. Welcome to Aeon."