The room remained silent after Kaenmor's explanation of the old hero's fall.
The weight of history pressed down on everyone, suffocating and thick.
Then Elira stepped forward.
She looked at Aria… then at each Aetherbound — all four standing like shadows of a past the world tried to bury.
When she spoke, her voice held centuries.
....
"You know my purpose," she began softly.
Morian smirked half-heartedly. "To annoy us."
Kaenmor gave him a look.
Deyr snorted.
Suvarn smiled politely.
Elira ignored them.
"I am bound to each of you. My lifespan, tied to your existence. My duty is to watch you, guide you, prevent any Vein from falling into madness or loneliness."
Her gaze darkened.
"And no one has ever required more watching than Dravon."
Aria felt a chill crawl down her spine.
"Because?" she whispered.
Elira's eyes softened — but with fear, not pity.
"Because Dravon walks the thinnest line between light and abyss. One step wrong, and he becomes the greatest monster this world could ever know."
Kaenmor nodded gravely.
"In the last war, when Zephyrion rose, we needed strength… and Dravon was the only one among us who could match the Demon Lord blow for blow."
Suvarn added quietly:
"And if Dravon gives in to the abyss, he might become stronger than all four of us combined."
Aria stiffened.
"That… strong?"
Morian looked away, almost ashamed.
"Aria… if Dravon ever embraces his darker half willingly… you won't need to worry about Zephyrion."
Deyr whispered:
"Because Dravon will end the world himself."
.....
Elira stepped closer.
"Aria. If we don't bring Dravon back soon, we lose this war before it begins. Zephyrion knows this. He is waiting. He is watching. He remembers Dravon's true power."
Aria swallowed tightly.
"What does he want with him?"
Elira's voice trembled with ancient dread.
"To twist him. To revive the monster Dravon once could have become."
.....
Kaenmor inhaled, then began.
"You want to know how Dravon became an Aetherbound. We can tell you only what happened after."
Aria nodded slowly.
Kaenmor spread his hands, letting wind weave faint images into the air — memories painted in swirling light.
"At that time, Morian and I were already chosen. The first and second Veins. Wind and Power."
Morian grinned faintly. "Yeah. We thought the world was balanced."
Kaenmor continued.
"Then something impossible happened."
He clenched his fist, and the wind shimmered.
"Aether awakened a third vein—before it had chosen Chaos or Hope."
Aria blinked.
"So… Dravon wasn't supposed to be third?"
"No," Kaenmor said. "He was never meant to exist in the first place."
Elira nodded.
"Four Veins were intended: Peace, Power, Chaos, Hope."
She looked at Aria meaningfully.
"But Rage was never planned."
....
Morian sighed deeply.
"We found him after it happened."
Aria frowned. "Found him… how?"
Suvarn sat, eyes clouding with memory.
"In the middle of a battlefield. Human soldiers everywhere. Not demons. Humans."
Deyr crossed his arms.
"The black bandits; a group so big it could fit a whole city, attacked a village. Dravon fought them alone."
Aria stiffened.
"He saved the village?"
Morian nodded.
"He killed the bandits. Every last one. But his body—"
Kaenmor finished softly:
"—was glowing. His veins lit red. His eyes were crimson. And the Aether had already marked him."
Aria's breath faltered.
"So he became an Aetherbound… in the middle of a fight?"
"Yes," Suvarn said. "The third Vein awakened through sheer force of will."
Aria whispered:
"But that's… impossible."
Kaenmor nodded.
"It shouldn't have happened. Aether chooses. It is not swayed by mortals."
"And yet," Elira whispered, "Dravon forced the world to acknowledge his rage."
.....
Aria looked confused.
"So since then he became the Vein of Rage..."
Deyr leaned against the pillar, voice low.
"Oh, he was. But he was called the Vein of Rage even before he turned into an Aetherbound. That nickname wasn't given by gods. It was given by the humans who saw him fight."
Morian sighed.
"I first met Dravon while fighting him. Back when we both were just human. Although I was blessed with Aether but not yet evolved."
Aria blinked.
"You fought him as a human?"
"For three weeks straight," Morian groaned. "And he still wouldn't fall."
Kaenmor added:
"They fought without rest. Without food. Without hesitation."
Suvarn whispered:
"Humans don't fight like that. They die. But these two..."
Aria shook her head slowly, unable to process it.
"How… Just how was he that strong without even a blessing? "
Deyr shrugged.
"Nobody knows. Not even now."
Elira looked at her softly.
"But people whispered of him. A human who fought like wrath incarnate. A man whose presence warped the air. A warrior who never broke."
Her voice quieted.
"And so… they named him the Vein of Rage."
Aria's pulse hammered.
"And when the Aether finally responded…"
Elira nodded.
"It gave his rage a throne."
....
Kaenmor's expression softened.
"We brought him to the First Temple. Hoping to understand what he had become."
Morian chuckled bitterly.
"And hoping he wouldn't kill us by accident."
Deyr elbowed him. "He almost did."
Suvarn sighed. "He apologized afterward…"
Kaenmor continued.
"He stood at the altar, Aether swirling around him… and the world accepted him as the third Vein."
Aria whispered:
"The third Aetherbound. The one that wasn't supposed to exist."
Elira answered softly.
"Dravon Valeis.
Vein of Shadow.
Aetherbound of Rage."
Aria stiffened.
"Shadow… and Rage?"
Kaenmor shook his head.
"No. His vein is Rage. But its form manifested as Shadow."
Elira added:
"He is the balance between fury and void. He is emotion incarnate — and emotion withheld."
.....
Suvarn placed a trembling hand over his heart.
"Aria… Dravon isn't just strong."
Kaenmor nodded sadly.
"He is the most dangerous Aetherbound in existence."
Deyr's chainblades rustled.
"And if you don't pull him back soon… someone else will."
Aria whispered:
"Zephyrion."
Elira stepped close, her voice like a prophecy:
"If Dravon returns to the abyss willingly…
not even all four Aetherbounds together could save this world."
The candles flickered violently — then died.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Aria stood shaking, the weight of fate pressing against her chest.
The only light…
was the faint pulse of her crest.