That evening, the wind wasn't like a whisper, but like a dagger made of ice. The top of the castle walls carried the scent of the bottomless void: Ozone, rust, and infinite cold.
The moon had just crossed the horizon. Its silvery light illuminated the silhouette of the massive, rusty chains hanging below. The chains held this end of the North in a nightmare silence.
Zero had leaned his massive frame against the thick stones. His raven-black hair waved in the wind. He had taken off his armor, but the burden he carried was heavier than steel. The lines of his dark, tired face were like rock carved by the North wind. His eyes were fixed on the dark void on the horizon; behind the blue lens, he was contemplating the burden of past wars.
Aetherion came to his father's side. His walk was silent. He dangled his legs from the ramparts. His bare feet felt the ice-cold stone.
Neither spoke. There was no need to speak. The howling of the wind told more than words. It carried Zero's grief and reflected Aetherion's silent resolve.
Zero spoke without looking away. His voice was deep, worn by grief and duty.
"One day, this place will be yours," he said, continuing to look at the horizon. "This castle. This responsibility. The lives of these people. Not a blessing, but a curse."
Aetherion nodded.
This was my vow, he thought with determination. I didn't ask for another life. I asked for a purpose.
"I know."
Zero finally turned. When his eyes locked on his son, he looked at the grey veil in Aetherion's eyes. Almost a month had passed. The effect of the Frostthorn Drop had waned.
At that moment, with that momentary tension where Aetherion gathered all his will, the Frostthorn veil over his eyes lifted with a momentary rustle. The protection of the half-faded magic was gone.
Zero's eyes locked onto his son's magma-red, roaring eyes. This look proved that the curse belonging to Zero lived in his son too. It had to be sealed again tomorrow morning.
"Will you be able to protect it?" he asked, doubt hidden in his voice. "This burden crushes even the soul of an adult. You will have to sacrifice your own life."
"Yes."
Zero placed his heavy, calloused hand on his son's small shoulder. It was a hand smelling of steel and blood. Its weight was like the entire responsibility of the North.
At that moment, Aetherion placed his own small hand over his father's. This was not a show of affection, but a declaration of a pact. The warmth of the small hand instantly melted his father's coldness.
"We will protect it together," Aetherion said. This time his voice was not childish, but like the voice of a king taking an oath.
Zero lowered his commander mask at that moment. He saw the reflection of his own fire in his son's eyes, but more importantly, he saw that fire of loyalty he had forgotten for years.
The corner of his lips curled up slightly; this was a real, sincere smile not seen on the castle walls for years.
"Together," whispered Zero. His voice was full of sorrow and honor.
He was six years old, and the world was still just a theory sealed by castle walls and coded with symbols on his father's map—until that moment.
The thick, iron-plated main gate had been opened halfway for supply carts to pass. This was a rarely opened wound in the suffocating defense wall of the North.
Aetherion saw the opportunity. But first, he pulled his hood tight. That flame-orange hair was a beacon giving him away even in the shadows. He buried his small, porcelain-white face in the darkness. The first rule of being a warrior hadn't changed: Be invisible. Or you become prey.
He glided with ghost-like silence through the rough cargo crates and tired soldiers.
And then, for the first time, he stepped "outside."
The cold air burning his lungs was different from the gloomy dampness inside. Outside smelled of pure, stinging metal and ozone. This resembled the smell leaking from the Void beneath the Chains.
Aetherion leaned against the wall and held his breath.
Those thick, black lines he saw on his father's map... They weren't just ink marks.
What lay before him wasn't a horizon line. Immediately at the end of the cliff began an infinite, nauseating void. Below was a pitch-black nothingness that swallowed light. And over this nothingness, massive, rusty metal links stretched out, connecting the landmass they were on to the others.
Chains as thick as a mountain range... They swayed slightly in the wind, emitting that terrible, metallic groan with every movement.
The map was right, Aetherion thought, his grey eyes tearing up from the wind's intensity. We don't live on a planet. We live on rocks chained so we don't fall into the void.
Right at that moment, he heard a strange, rhythmic sound from the cliff edge where the chain connected to the castle.
Grit-grit. Click.
This wasn't the sound of the wind. It was metal rubbing against metal; the sound of hunger.
Aetherion pulled his hood tight, hiding his flame-orange hair, and hid behind a large moss-covered rock. From the edge of the cliff, a nightmare was climbing up.
This wasn't an animal. It looked like a living heap of scrap thrown from a junkyard. It was a multi-legged creature with a torso made of rusty iron plates. In its mouth, there were rotating saw-like pincers evolved to tear steel instead of flesh.
The creature's blind antennae quivered; it was searching for the smell of fresh steel in the air, meaning the guard's armor. Its target was a young guard standing with his back turned in front of the gate, wiping his sweat with his helmet off. Vulnerable, careless prey.
Aetherion's grey eyes narrowed. His hand went to the short dagger at his waist by reflex. But he stopped. His palms sweated.
50 years of war experience whispered a painful truth to his 6-year-old body: I cannot pierce that armor with these puny arms. The steel in my hand is just a toothpick to that creature. If I play the hero and jump in front of it, I will be shredded in seconds.
This wasn't cowardice; it was the acceptance of the power difference between predator and prey.
The creature accelerated. Its metal legs directed towards the target, sparking on the stone floor. The guard's life depended on seconds.
Aetherion looked around. I can't fight, he said internally. But I can use my mind.
His eyes drifted to the primitive cargo elevator system immediately to his right. The counterweight stone, weighing tons, attached to the pulley hung suspended by a taut rope. The shadow of the stone fell exactly on the path the creature would take.
My strength isn't enough to pierce that shell, Aetherion thought, drawing his dagger. But the mass of that stone is.
He wasted no time.
He launched silently from his cover. Not like a child, but like an arrow locked on target. The creature was about to attack the guard; its pincers had opened.
Aetherion ran to the pole where the rope was tied. He didn't waste time untying the knot. He pressed the sharp edge of his dagger against the taut rope and pulled, giving his entire body weight.
SNAP!
The rope, exploding with tension, cracked like a whip in the air. The counterweight stone, weighing tons, whistled as it came down.
Before the guard could turn to the sound of the snapping rope and ask "What's happening?"...
BOOM!
The sound echoed like the largest bell of the Chain Realm. The ground shook when the stone block fell on the creature. Greenish, acid-smelling liquid and crushed metal pieces scattered around.
The young guard flinched with the noise and fell to the ground. He had turned as white as a sheet. When he turned around trembling, he saw the crushed monster just two steps away from him... and the small child standing breathless with a dagger in his hand.
Aetherion sheathed his dagger. His heart was beating as if it would burst out of his chest, but he was relieved.
He fixed his hood blowing in the wind, hid his orange hair again, and looked at the shocked soldier.
"Are you okay?" Aetherion asked, his voice trembling with childish concern. He pointed to the crushed creature. "It almost caught you."
The soldier stammered. "L-little lord? You..."
At that moment, a shadow fell from above, from the top of the ramparts. Zero had descended to the scene.
He looked at the crushed creature, the broken rope, and his son checking if the soldier was okay by touching his shoulder.
Zero let out a deep breath. There was no emotion in his gaze.
His son hadn't frozen. He hadn't jumped to death with foolish courage. He had accepted his own weakness and used the environment as a weapon.
Clever, thought Zero, feeling the burden on his shoulders lighten. He won without drawing a sword.
He turned his back and disappeared into the shadows.
Evening had fallen. But peace did not come to this realm with the night; the shadow of those massive, rusty chains in the sky combined with the crimson glow of light dust to fall over the courtyard like iron bars.
Aetherion was alone in the middle of the courtyard.
His porcelain-white skin was drenched in sweat, his flame-orange hair plastered to his forehead. His lungs were pumping that heavy metal and ozone smell in the air like a bellows.
The wooden sword trembled in his hand. But he didn't stop.
That metallic monster, those rotating saw teeth were still in his mind. He had won with his intellect today, but he knew; he wouldn't always be lucky. Sometimes there wouldn't be time to lift that stone. Sometimes he would have to pierce that armor with his own hands.
"Faster," he whispered, breathless. "Harder."
With a scream, he made his final move. He stretched his entire body like a bow from his hips to his shoulders and brought the wooden sword down on the dummy's neck.
CRACK!
The thick piece of wood snapped and fell to the ground.
The sword slipped from his hand. His knees gave way.
His small body couldn't carry this load anymore and collapsed right there, into the mud. His stomach spasmed violently. Bile and bitter water spilled from his lips onto the soil.
He couldn't breathe. His throat burned. But there were no tears in his eyes; only anger. Pure, searing anger at his own weakness.
A shadow fell over him.
Aetherion wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked up. His father had emerged from the darkness of the porticos, standing over him like a tower.
Zero said nothing. He just extended the leather water skin in his hand. This was a "break" permission given by a commander to a soldier pushing his limits.
"Enough for today," Zero said. His voice was deep as always.
Aetherion grabbed the skin, drank the water greedily. The cold water soothed his burning throat.
Zero put his large, calloused hand on his son's head. He stroked that dangerous, flame-orange hair for a moment, then withdrew his hand.
Aetherion stood up. His legs were still trembling, but his back was straight.
He looked at those massive chains dividing the sky like a scar on the horizon. The last rays of light dust had painted the rusty links of the chain blood red.
Aetherion's grey eyes shone with the reflection of this crimson light. Maybe it was the effect of the drop wearing off, maybe it was a trick of the sun... But at that moment, behind that grey veil, a magma-red ember flared up once again.