The next morning
Darkness melted into vague shapes — sharp edges softened by swirling mana, like trying to focus on a dream through a misted glass.
Salem was beside me, a warm outline shifting closer, her presence the only steady point in the haze. I felt the familiar brush of her hands as she handed me my clothes they felt so different from each other, one warm skin, the other shadow formed into a hand like her second skin — rough fabric against my skin, the faint scent of earth and fire clinging to them.
Around us, low whispers curled through the air, like threads of smoke weaving between the shadows.
"Ætherbound…" A word, half-heard, like a sigh lost in wind.
"Draumhold…" another, followed by broken phrases — "wiped out…" "devil…" "one survivor…"
The voices were everywhere but nowhere at once, slipping between the edges of my senses.
I blinked into the blur, trying to catch more, but it was like chasing shadows — fleeting, fragmented.
Salem helped me into my coat, slid my staff into my hand without asking. She always knew. Her mana brushed mine like warmth from a hearth. We didn't speak as we stepped out of the room and into the hall.
It was quiet. No movement. Just the sound of breath and quiet pacing — like every student had woken early and decided to wait for something.
We walked to the Grand Atrium together. I felt the outlines of others ahead of us — Lycian's flickering aura, Rōko's calm gravity, a few stray flickers of anxiety slipping out of even the calmest minds.
Above us — her presence like cold metal threaded through glass — stood Magister Eleris.
I didn't need my eyes to know she was already watching.
She didn't wait for the hall to settle. Didn't clear her throat or raise her voice.
She just spoke — and the world obeyed.
"Students," she began, "you have likely heard fragmented rumors this morning — uncertain and incomplete."
She paused, letting the weight of her gaze settle on us.
"The city of Draumhold was destroyed in a single day."
Her words echoed in the vast hall.
"Not by armies, not by plague, but by a singular devil — a force of unimaginable power."
A collective breath was held.
"There was only one survivor — a scout who fled before witnessing the horror."
Her eyes darkened.
"This is why the Kings' Council has enacted a secret measure, kept from the world until now."
Her voice grew solemn.
"You have heard the name: Ætherbound."
She waited, letting the word settle.
"This bond — between mage and mythical spirit — was kept hidden for generations. Until now."
"Five mages per continent will be awakened to this bond, to wield a power capable of facing such darkness."
Her expression hardened.
"To prepare you for this, training will become harder than we expected to give you as students."
She paced slowly, scanning the crowd.
"You will each receive a specialized program — crafted to your unique strengths, weaknesses, and mana affinity."
A murmur rippled, but she raised a hand.
"This will not be simple or forgiving."
"Training will be fifteen hours a day."
"One hour for eating and cleaning."
"Eight hours strictly for rest."
"Your training will be filled with physical training, mana drills, combat exercises, knowledge lessons, and chemistry classes. One more than the other depending on your personal program."
Her gaze was unyielding.
"If you cannot keep pace, you will be removed."
The room held a breathless stillness.
"Prepare yourselves. If you stand unprepared on the battlefield… you will die."
She turned sharply and left, leaving a silence that pressed heavy on every heart.
Beside me, Salem's steady presence wrapped around mine.
The whispers had ceased.
But the weight of what had been said lingered, thick as the dark blurs at the edge of my sight.
Salem didn't speak. Neither did I.
What could be said?
The room had become a chamber of silence — not reverent, but stunned. Fear wasn't a scream. It was a held breath.
I turned my head slightly toward the mana threads I recognized. Lycian. Rōko. Even Leonidas, his aura crackling with nervous tension.
Everyone was trying to pretend they weren't afraid.
But they were. Even me.
Ætherbound. A bond not shared with a beast, or a summoned spirit, or a forged construct.
But with a single ancient force — one spirit per continent — fragmented, yet whole.
Five chosen mages, each a shard of something vast.
Salem's mana flickered beside me — a calming storm held just beneath her skin. Her hand found the small of my back, her voice low, just for me.
"You're not going to be removed."
I didn't answer at first.
But after a moment, I whispered, "I know."
I didn't need to see to know the tension in the room was warping.
The threads of mana around me — usually sharp, controlled, proud — had turned restless. Heat in the air. A low buzz at the edge of my hearing. The kind of collective unease that comes just before a fight… or a revelation.
"This isn't what we signed up for," someone whispered behind me — a noble, male voice, mana wound tight with indignation and something sour. "We were told this was a prestige academy, not a military camp."
"My father didn't pay for me to be drilled like a common soldier," came a voice behind me, smooth with entitlement and heavy with citrus-tinged mana — undoubtedly a noble from the elves.
Another voice, softer but no less petulant, answered. "Fifteen hours of training? That's insane. That's for soldiers. Not prodigies."
I didn't turn. I didn't need to. Their mana gave away everything — bloated with ego, twitchy with fear.
Rōko, just off to my right, didn't even flinch. Her mana was still — like a stone resting at the bottom of a river.
"Sounds about right," she muttered under her breath. "My father trained me for longer when I was nine."
I felt her shift slightly — the faint clink of her chain-and-sickle weapon always within reach. Calm. Focused. I almost envied that.
Lycian, on the other hand…
His mana had changed.
There was a depth to it I hadn't felt before. Not just power — something older, more jagged. Like sharp stone under silk. It curled differently than usual, almost cautious… no, strategic. And beneath it, something else stirred — something that watched.
I reached out through the haze, trying to trace the edges of it — but just before I could focus, the entire room tilted.
Not literally.
But the mana signatures changed.
More powerful ones entered — like iron rods being slammed into the soil. Heavy. Controlled. Dominant.
I could feel the heads turn. Could hear the shuffle of boots, the quiet murmur of recognition rippling through the class.
"Upper years," Salem whispered beside me, tone low, sharp with caution.
Their outlines were taller. Broader. Not children anymore. Their mana didn't just pulse — it moved, weaving between one another in tight, intricate coils like a practiced dance.
One of them stepped forward, their voice calm but precise.
"We are the current Student Council. Seniors. Here to assist with the transition into the Ætherbound Directive."
They paused. Even their voice had weight.
"You will see us regularly. Some of you will join us soon — if you can keep up."
A soft scoff to my left — likely the same noble boy from earlier. "What's the point of that?"
Another older student stepped up. Her mana was sharp and cold — ice magic, if I had to guess. "Because the Council trains twice as hard. We're expected to lead. To teach those who fall behind. And ensure yesterday's… incident with the dwarves," she said the word like it was bitter, "doesn't happen again."
I felt Salem shift slightly beside me. Protective, but silent.
Then Magister Eleris stepped forward — her mana like a blade being drawn from polished steel.
"I understand these are not the conditions you expected," she said simply. "But this is no longer a school built around expectation."
"This academy is now part of a greater effort — to forge a generation strong enough to face what's coming."
A pause. Her mana rippled outward, almost brushing against our skin.
"These orders come from the Kings' Council. From generals. From those who've seen what the devils can do."
Her voice hardened.
"We will be losing more ground in the future."
Another beat of silence. No one dared speak.
"If you're here," she continued, "it's because you're worth the effort to make into something greater. But make no mistake—"
"If you can't keep up… you will not stay."
The student council stepped back, their presence like looming shadows. Strong, silent reminders of what we'd need to become.
I let out a slow breath, hands tightening around my staff. Salem didn't speak, but I felt her hand brush against mine — subtle, anchoring.
Rōko remained still.
Lycian… his aura had shifted again. More guarded now.
I didn't know what Ætherbound would bring. I didn't know what the training would break or forge.
But I knew this:
This school was no longer a sanctuary.
It was the forge.
And we were the metal