The courtyard had gone quiet except for the clash of swords.Metal against metal.Impact against air.
The boy sat on the edge of the wooden bench, small hands resting on his knees, watching two knights dance across the stone floor.
Sir Ren — the second-in-command of the Solarin knights — was sparring with a younger swordsman. The air shimmered faintly with Ether. Not Aura Ether yet, just the faint leaks that came from impact and motion.
Every swing carried a storm.Every parry, a spark.
The Solarin style was born from speed and impact — like lightning caged inside a blade.
The boy's eyes never blinked.
At first, he simply watched. But then… something shifted. The air dimmed, the courtyard fading into quiet. The clashing swords slowed — or maybe his eyes simply moved faster than sound.
He saw it.
Blue and red streams flowing before the men themselves. The Ether wasn't something they cast — it moved before them, tracing paths their blades had not yet taken.
"That's strange," he whispered softly. "Why does his light move before he does?"
The maid tilted her head. "Young master?"
But he didn't answer. His focus deepened.
The Ether bent, coiled, snapped. And then — faint, white letters shimmered before his eyes.
Mind's Eye…
The words pulsed once, then vanished like mist.
His body tensed. His Ether flared uncontrolled.Blue light rippled from his skin — unseen at first, then bright enough to make the knights stop mid-swing.
"By the heavens—what's that!?"
"The young master!"
Ren shouted, "Fetch the medics, now!"
Before anyone could move, the boy swayed. Blood rolled down his nose, his eyes glassy but calm. He touched the red with his fingers, looked at it curiously—
"It's warm," he murmured—then collapsed.
When he awoke, the world was soft again. The smell of herbs lingered. Curtains fluttered with the wind.
Beside him sat his mother, Elara, her robes loose, eyes red from lack of sleep.
"Easy now," she whispered. "You gave us a fright."
The boy blinked, his voice hoarse.
"I saw it."
Elara froze, her lips parting.
From across the room, his father stood by the window, arms folded, expression calm but hard. The faint hum of lightning lingered in the air around him.
"You saw what?" Cael asked, voice deep but even.
The boy turned slightly, his face serious in that way children shouldn't be.
"When the two men clashed… I saw it. It wasn't like how you or mother move. It was different. The light moved first."
Elara covered her mouth, tears starting again. Cael stepped closer, his boots silent against the floor.
"What light?"
The boy hesitated, then lifted his hand. Ether gathered at his fingertips, faint and blue.He moved his fingers through the air. Lines of light followed, forming letters — symbols no one should have been able to write.
The glowing words floated for a moment:
"Mind's Eye."
Cael's expression broke for the first time. He froze, staring at the words as they faded into the air.The tone that lingered was soft, harmonic — alive.
Elara gasped, whispering,
"The Gaia Tone…"
The Gaia Tone — the language of the System itself.The world's hidden voice, the words that appeared only when one awakened at fifteen.Humans instinctively understood it, but no one could speak it.No one could write it.
Yet here was a four-year-old child, shaping it from raw Ether as easily as breathing.
Cael's jaw tightened, his tone now half shock, half command.
"Is that all you saw?"
The boy shook his head slowly.
"I saw Ether. It moved before they did. Every time the swords clashed, I saw shadows of it — like air showing me where it would go next."
He paused, his small brow furrowing.
"But with you and mother, it's different. You're… clearer."
Elara clutched his hand. "Enough, love. You need rest."
Cael nodded slowly, his gaze still distant.
"Yes. Sleep, my son. We'll talk more tomorrow."
Elara kissed his forehead. "I'll be right here."
The boy smiled faintly and closed his eyes. Within moments, his breathing steadied, the Ether around him returning to calm blue light.
Outside the room, the corridor was silent.Cael closed the door behind them. The air between husband and wife was thick with quiet understanding.
"You saw it too," Elara said softly.
"I did," Cael answered. "That was the Gaia Tone."
He walked to the end of the hall, pausing by the candlelight. His voice dropped low.
"I need to go back. To my family. If anyone knows what this means, it's them."
Elara's eyes widened. "You mean the House of Gale?"
"Yes. They've studied Ether flow longer than anyone else."
She hesitated, then nodded slowly.
"Then I'll contact Azen's Flame Tower. They might understand how a child could use the Gaia Tone. I'll stay with him until they arrive."
Cael placed a hand on her shoulder. "We'll find answers."
Later that night, the moonlight crept through the window.The boy stirred in his bed, half-awake, eyes glowing faintly in the dark.
He rose quietly, bare feet touching the floor, and reached for a wooden stick leaning by the bedside — something the knights had carved for him to play with.
He stood there, small and serious, mimicking the movements he remembered from earlier that day.
"Sir Ren moved like this… and the other one like this…"
He swung the stick clumsily but with focus. Ether flickered faintly along the edge.
"Should I sharpen my Ether? No… it wasn't sharp. It was fast."
He whispered to himself, copying, adjusting, correcting.Hours passed that way.
And when exhaustion finally took him, he dropped the stick, climbed back into bed, and fell asleep —the faint hum of blue light still dancing at his fingertips.
Thus began the story of the child who saw Ether before motion,and the first awakening of the Mind's Eye.