Morning came to Kaenmor's island softly — not with blinding light, but with warmth.
The horizon shimmered with a faint green glow as the wind carried the scent of the sea and crushed leaves.
Mist rolled down the trees, silver as silk, revealing the calm of a world that seemed untouched by sin or sorrow.
Aria stirred to the sound of waves and low voices. The camp had woken early. Lyra and Coren sparred near the stream; Sera gathered glowing fruit; Suvarn knelt by the blue, smokeless fire he'd conjured. Deyr whistled tunelessly while irritating everyone within range — business as usual.
Then, a deeper, steadier voice joined them — rough and familiar.
"Are we finally eating, or are you all meditating on starvation?"
Aria turned sharply. Standing near the treeline, shield strapped to his back, was Garron, the team's ironclad wall.
"Garron!" she exclaimed, rushing over. "You're— You're finally here."
He grinned faintly, rubbing his neck. "Wasn't dead, just… buried in my own head for a while."
Deyr leaned against a crate, smirking. "You sleeping for a day straight?"
Suvarn looked up from the fire. "Not sleep. The island rejected him at first."
Everyone turned toward Kaenmor, who had been sitting cross-legged near the cliffs, eyes half-closed. His voice was gentle but sure.
"Wind and stone rarely share breath. This island bends to my element — light, shifting, intangible. Garron's heart is bound to earth. His Aether runs deep and heavy. The island's air couldn't carry him, so it pressed him into stillness until balance was found."
Garron exhaled deeply. "Translation: the place didn't like me, so it put a barrier against me."
Kaenmor smiled faintly. "You might say the wind had to learn your weight."
Deyr chuckled. "So basically, this great island didn't wanna handle you."
Garron shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first place that couldn't handle me."
Sera smirked. "Welcome back, stonehead."
He gave her a mock bow. "Nice to be insulted again. But only this once."
The group's laughter filled the clearing, soft and warm. For the first time since the war began, it sounded like they were just people again — not saviors, not soldiers.
Later, Deyr sat near the shore, flicking stones into the glittering water. The sea mirrored the pale blue sky, waves rolling like slow heartbeats.
Sera approached quietly, arms crossed. "Do you always look for trouble, even when it's calm."
He didn't glance back. "Calm's worse. Gives you time to think."
"That bad, huh?"
Deyr laughed softly — the kind of laugh that hurt more than silence. "When you spend half your life being a walking disaster, thinking's dangerous."
She sat beside him, the sand glowing faintly beneath her hands. "You talk like you deserve that."
"I do," he said simply. "I laughed while my world burned. The Aether must've thought that was courage."
Sera studied him — not with pity, but with understanding. "You laugh so you don't have to remember."
He flicked another stone. "If I stop laughing, I remember everything."
The breeze picked up, brushing her hair across her face. She hesitated, then placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Then laugh when you need to," she said quietly, "but don't forget to breathe between them."
He looked at her, surprised by the warmth in her tone — by how gently she'd said it. His smirk softened into something rare, something unguarded.
"Careful, spear woman. You'll make me like you."
She rose, cheeks faintly flushed. "Too late for that."
His laugh this time was real — softer, almost human.
Aria found Suvarn near a rippling stream that wound through the island's heart. He sat cross-legged, his eyes closed, flames hovering above the water like tiny suns.
She knelt beside him quietly. "You're always so still."
He opened one eye. "Stillness doesn't mean silence. It means listening."
Aria smiled faintly. "You sound like Kaenmor now."
"He taught me once. Long ago."
She glanced at the flames. "Do you ever wonder why the Aether chose you?"
"Every day," he said. "Not because I was strong — because I refused to stop believing even when belief hurt. Hope isn't victory. It's standing when you've already lost."
She looked at him, thoughtful. "Then maybe I'm learning hope, too."
He turned toward her, smiling softly. "No, Aria. You are the hope now."
The wind stirred, scattering petals across the stream. Neither spoke for a long time.
By midday, everyone gathered near Kaenmor's stone circle — a natural hollow rimmed with flowers that pulsed faintly with light. He poured glowing tea made from the leaves of his island's living trees.
Deyr sniffed his cup suspiciously. "If this turns me into a bird, I'm haunting you."
Garron sipped his without hesitation. "If it kills me, at least it'll be quiet."
"You've been quiet enough," Lyra teased.
"I went nconscious there for a moment, not peaceful," he said. "Big difference."
Laughter echoed around the clearing. Kaenmor smiled faintly. "It's good to see harmony return."
Lyra leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Alright, question time. Which of you Aetherbounds is the strongest?"
Deyr pointed at himself instantly. "Obviously me."
Suvarn rolled his eyes. "In delusion, yes."
Kaenmor chuckled. "In raw strength — Morian. He could move mountains and reshape rivers. The Vein of Power was unmatched in might."
Garron whistled. "So the Titan lives up to the name."
"Lived through the name," Kaenmor said. "But strength alone breaks without balance."
Lyra smirked. "Then who's the most handsome?"
A beat of silence. Then, slowly, every head turned to Kaenmor.
He blinked. "…What?"
Deyr grinned. "Don't play humble, Wind. You're practically sculpted by divine aesthetics."
Suvarn added, deadpan, "You're literally glowing right now."
Kaenmor sighed. "That's the sunlight."
Lyra smiled faintly. "Sure it is."
"Dravon would've won that argument easily," Kaenmor admitted. "Though none of us would have dared tell him."
The laughter dimmed at the mention of Dravon's name. Even the wind seemed to quiet, as if remembering.
Then Garron raised his cup. "Alright, next question. Who's the biggest womanizer?"
Without hesitation, everyone pointed at Deyr.
He stared. "Unbelievable. One smile and I'm branded for life."
"You've earned it," Sera said dryly.
"Maybe," he said, grinning, "but at least I'm consistent."
Kaenmor shook his head in amusement. "Some things never change."
Lyra's eyes sparkled. "Who was first born?"
Kaenmor nodded. "I was the first to answer the Aether's call. Morian second, Dravon third, Deyr fourth, and Suvarn last."
Deyr grinned. "So I'm on of the middle child. Explains my trauma."
Suvarn chuckled. "Explains your attitude."
Garron leaned back, smirking. "Explains everything, really."
"Traitors, all of you," Deyr muttered.
The laughter this time was unrestrained, echoing across the trees. Even Kaenmor smiled warmly. "It's rare to hear such joy in the wind."
Lyra tilted her head. "What were Morian and Dravon like?"
Kaenmor's gaze turned distant. "Morian was power incarnate — a man of unmatched strength and duty. He could hold mountains together by will alone, but his heart carried grief too heavy for even him to bear."
"And Dravon?" Aria asked softly.
Kaenmor's voice dimmed. "Dravon was the calm shadow beneath the sun. He was intellect, balance, restraint — until the light he trusted turned against him."
Silence fell. Even the breeze seemed to hesitate.
Then Kaenmor's head lifted slightly. The air had changed.
Suvarn frowned. "What is it?"
Kaenmor stood slowly, his expression darkening. The wind shifted — warmer, sharper, tasting faintly of ash.
"The mountains speak," he said quietly.
The ground trembled. Pebbles rolled across the clearing.
Aria looked toward the horizon — four distant plumes of smoke rising into the sky, red against the blue.
"Volcanoes?" she whispered.
Kaenmor's eyes flashed green-white. "Four of them. One in each direction."
Suvarn's jaw tightened. "A coordinated eruption?"
"No." Kaenmor's voice was grave. "A message."
The sea began to churn, the waves turning black with distant ash. A sound rolled across the world — not thunder, but the strike of an enormous hammer.
Kaenmor's tone dropped to a whisper.
"Morian Veyr. The Vein of Power."
Deyr's grin faltered. "Of course it's him. The Titan never could resist making such an epic call."
Kaenmor closed his eyes, the wind curling around him in a spiral. "He doesn't seek war. He seeks proof. This is his challenge."
Aria's heart pounded. "A challenge for what?"
Kaenmor opened his eyes, glowing faintly.
"For the right to decide whose strength the world still follows."
The wind howled suddenly, tearing through the trees, scattering petals into the air. The ground shook under their feet.
And somewhere beyond the horizon, within a sea of molten light, a man stood amidst roaring flame — skin like bronze, eyes like suns, laughter like thunder.
"Come then," Morian Veyr rumbled, his voice echoing across the continents.
"Let the wind, chaos and flame remember what power truly means."
The volcanoes erupted in unison. The sea heaved.
And far away on the island of peace, Kaenmor's gaze hardened to steel.
"The Titan calls."