The ruined church on the hill felt older than time itself.
The shattered roof, the fractured pillars, the stone floor cracked by centuries of abandonment — all of it glowed faintly under the moon, as if the moonlight remembered what the place once was.
Inside that forgotten sanctuary, two silhouettes stood facing each other.
Kaenmor Lyren
Aetherbound of Peace, the First Wind.
And—
Dravon Valeis
Aetherbound of Shadow, the Third Vein, the Abyssal Knight.
Wind and Shadow.
Light and Darkness.
Brothers in name, opposites in nature.
Kaenmor exhaled slowly. The air around him shifted, soft and calm, almost protective.
Dravon didn't move.
He leaned lazily against a pillar, arms crossed, crimson eyes glowing faintly beneath long strands of platinum-streaked black hair. A careless pose — but nothing about Dravon was ever careless.
Even in stillness, he radiated danger.
The kind of danger that didn't roar or threaten.
The kind that simply existed.
Kaenmor approached a few steps, stopping just outside the swirling ring of shadows coiling around Dravon's feet.
"Dravon," Kaenmor said softly. "We need to talk."
Dravon smirked without looking at him.
"We are talking. You're speaking, and I'm tolerating it. Same thing."
Kaenmor resisted the urge to sigh.
"Always with this attitude…"
Dravon lifted an eyebrow.
"Would you prefer tears and apologies?"
"No," Kaenmor answered gently. "I'd prefer the truth."
Dravon's expression twitched — just barely.
Then he smirked again.
"Truth? From me? What else would I even give?"
Kaenmor stepped closer.
"Why are you here?"
Dravon shrugged.
"I live here. I breathe here. I ruin everything here. Take your pick."
"That's not what I meant."
"Then ask better questions."
Kaenmor narrowed his eyes.
"Why did you run away from us, Dravon?"
Silence.
A long, heavy silence.
Then—
Dravon tilted his head, eyes gleaming with amusement.
"You truly want an answer? Fine. Because I felt like it."
Kaenmor frowned.
"You don't do things without reason."
Dravon gave a soft laugh.
"You keep saying that like you know me. You don't."
"I know the Dravon who fought beside me," Kaenmor said calmly. "The one who stood between our team and death more times than any of us could count. The Dravon who—"
"Stop."
Dravon's voice sliced the air like a blade.
His shadows tightened.
Kaenmor didn't move.
"The Dravon you're describing," Dravon said coldly, "died a long time ago."
Kaenmor shook his head.
"No. He didn't die. He hid."
Dravon clicked his tongue.
"How poetic. Perhaps next you'll tell me friendship is the answer to all wounds."
"Not friendship," Kaenmor said softly. "Aria."
Dravon's expression didn't change.
But the shadows stirred.
"You felt it," Kaenmor said. "Even if you pretend otherwise. She is different."
Dravon scoffed.
"She is foolish. Naive. Weak. A child flung into a war she doesn't understand."
"And yet," Kaenmor murmured, "you didn't kill her."
Dravon's eyes sharpened.
Kaenmor continued.
"You were standing behind her in the balcony last night. You could have crushed her mind with a word. You didn't."
Dravon's jaw tightened.
"I didn't see the point."
"You didn't want to hurt her."
Dravon pushed off the pillar, stepping forward, shadows trailing like smoke.
His voice was low.
"Do not assume mercy where there is none."
Kaenmor stepped forward too, wind rising between them.
"Then why didn't you hurt her?"
Dravon opened his mouth—
—and shut it.
Kaenmor saw the flicker in his eyes.
"We both know why," Kaenmor whispered.
Dravon looked away.
Kaenmor's voice softened.
"Before Aria… there was someone else."
Dravon froze.
Kaenmor continued carefully.
"Elira."
The name hung in the air like a ghost.
Dravon's shoulders stiffened, almost imperceptibly, but enough for Kaenmor to notice.
He pressed gently, cautiously.
"She loved you."
Dravon didn't answer.
"She still does."
Dravon's hands curled into fists at his sides.
Kaenmor inhaled slowly.
"She loved you long before the first hero appeared. Long before the war. Long before the world broke."
Dravon shut his eyes.
Not in pain.
Not in anger.
In remembrance.
Kaenmor continued.
"You remember those days. Before the darkness. Before the hatred. Before the world turned us into myths."
Dravon didn't speak.
Kaenmor smiled faintly.
"We were young then. Carefree. Morian kept challenging everyone. Deyr's pranks made us want to kill him. Suvarn was trying his best to keep up with us."
He paused.
"But you… you were changing."
The shadows pulsed.
Kaenmor went on.
"Elira used to watch you. She used to smile at everything you did. She followed you, quietly, shyly. You never looked at her twice."
Dravon's voice finally emerged — soft and cold.
"Because I had nothing to give her."
Kaenmor's heart ached.
"Even so… she loved you anyway."
Dravon exhaled slowly.
"Love is a burden, Kaenmor. I do not carry burdens."
"You're wrong," Kaenmor said gently. "Love is not a burden. It is a hand in the dark."
Kaenmor stepped closer, lowering his voice.
"You don't have to love her back. You don't have to feel anything for her. But she deserves to see the Dravon we once knew."
Dravon whispered,
"…He doesn't exist anymore."
Kaenmor smiled sadly.
"Then let her see the real one standing right here."
Kaenmor did not stop there.
"And Aria…"
The shadows stiffened immediately.
Kaenmor continued.
"She deserves to go home. She deserves to defeat Zephyrion. And she cannot do it without you."
Dravon scoffed.
"She can barely hold a sword."
"True," Kaenmor admitted. "But she can hold us together."
Dravon's eyes flickered.
"You felt her light," Kaenmor said. "Even if you deny it. You felt her read into you. You felt her reach for something inside you."
"That was an accident," Dravon muttered.
"No," Kaenmor said gently. "It was the truth."
Kaenmor placed a hand on Dravon's shoulder.
Dravon didn't pull away — but he didn't return the gesture either.
"Morian needs his rival back," Kaenmor said softly.
"Deyr needs the only person who can anchor his chaos."
"Suvarn needs the one he once admired, even if he never admits it."
"Elira needs to see the man she loved isn't gone."
Kaenmor took a breath.
"And I… need my brother."
Dravon swallowed.
Wind wrapped around them, warm and calm, like a memory of sunlight.
Kaenmor stepped back.
He didn't order.
He didn't demand.
He didn't beg.
He simply spoke quietly, firmly, with all the weight of the centuries they lived.
"Come back."
Dravon looked up.
Kaenmor continued.
"Not for the hero.
Not for the world.
Not even for us."
His eyes softened.
"For yourself."
Dravon said nothing.
Kaenmor walked past him, heading toward the broken door.
At the threshold, he stopped and spoke one last time.
Soft.
Calm.
Stern.
"I won't force you. But we need you. I need you. When you're ready… step out of the shadows."
And then he left.
The wind followed him out.
Leaving Dravon alone in the moonlit ruin.
A single figure standing in a broken cathedral.
Shadow swirling.
Breathing slow.
Eyes unreadable.
Alone.
But no longer untouched.
No longer unmoved.
No longer unshaken.
The moon hung high over the broken city when Kaenmor finally stepped out of the ruined church.
The air outside was thick with worry.
Aria sat on a cracked stone bench, fingers twisted nervously. Suvarn stood beside her, glancing toward the church every few seconds, jaw clenched. Sera and Deyr stood shoulder to shoulder — she pretending not to be scared, he pretending not to be concerned.
Coren and Lyra hovered a little farther away, tense and pale.
But the person who paced the most was Elira.
She kept staring at the entrance of the ruined church, her hands pressed against her chest, her breath trembling with every exhale — like someone bracing for a fate she already knew too well.
Only one man sat relaxed as if the night was nothing more than a mild breeze:
Morian.
He had a piece of bread in one hand, and the other resting behind his head as he lounged against a toppled pillar.
Sera glared.
"Morian, are you even a little worried?"
He shrugged.
"About Kaenmor? No."
"About Dravon?" Coren asked, voice low.
Morian took another bite.
"He won't hurt Kaenmor."
Aria swallowed. "How can you be so sure?"
Morian lifted an eyebrow.
"That idiot Shadow respects only two things in the entire universe —
power…
and Kaenmor."
Deyr snorted. "Honestly, that's accurate."
Elira stopped pacing and clutched her hands tightly.
"Still… Dravon is unpredictable. What if something triggers him? What if—"
Morian shook his head before she could finish.
"He won't hurt him. Even in the old days, even when Dravon was drowning in darkness, the one person he'd never strike was Kaenmor."
Aria felt a strange knot tighten in her chest.
There was history there — deep, complicated, older than she could even imagine.
Footsteps echoed softly.
Everyone straightened.
Kaenmor emerged from the shadows of the doorway.
His expression was calm… but tired.
Wind curled gently around him, as if comforting him after a heavy conversation.
He stepped toward them.
Sera whispered nervously, "Did… did everything go alright?"
Kaenmor smiled faintly.
"Dravon heard what needed to be heard."
Everyone exhaled — relief mixed with confusion.
Elira stepped forward immediately, eyes trembling.
"Kaenmor — please — did he—?"
Kaenmor met her eyes, and his voice softened.
"He will come back. I promise."
Elira's breath broke.
Tears gathered along her lashes — not of sadness, but a raw, aching hope.
Kaenmor touched her shoulder gently.
"Elira… his shadow may wander, but his heart still knows where it belongs. He is still an Aetherbound."
She nodded, wiping her tears quickly, though she couldn't stop them from spilling.
Aria felt a warmth in her chest seeing that moment — the kind of love that lasted centuries.
The kind that survived hopelessness.
Kaenmor turned suddenly, the wind shifting sharply around him.
The others tensed.
They had learned, by now, that Kaenmor's wind only behaved like that when something was wrong.
"Kaenmor?" Suvarn asked.
The Vein of Harmony raised his head, eyes narrowing.
"There's smoke."
Aria blinked. "Where?"
"East," Kaenmor said, voice firm. "A village nearby is being raided."
Coren stepped forward immediately.
"Then we need to go—"
Kaenmor's voice cut through the air.
"Now."
That one word made the wind roar.
The Aetherbounds and Aria's mortal team followed him at once, sprinting out of the city ruins and into the dark forest. Wind carried them faster than their legs ever could — branches bending away from them, leaves swirling in their wake.
As they emerged from the trees, the night sky lit up in orange and red.
Fire.
Screams.
Demons.
Aria gasped.
The village was engulfed in flames. Straw roofs burning. Homes collapsing. People running in terror as grotesque horned demons chased them through the smoke.
Suvarn cursed under his breath.
Deyr summoned his chainblades.
Morian grinned, cracking his knuckles.
"Well then — warm-up time."
Kaenmor vanished in a burst of wind.
Aria barely had time to breathe before the world exploded into motion.
......
The first wave of demons lunged at them — snarling, twisted creatures with bone-like armor and glowing red eyes.
Kaenmor appeared behind them in an instant.
Whisperveil Wind: Gale Shatter.
A single sweep of his arm unleashed a circular burst of wind that sliced through the demons like paper — scattering them into dust.
Deyr somersaulted past the falling bodies, laughing as his chainblades curved around him like twin serpents.
"Chaos Waltz!"
The blades ripped through demons with unpredictable arcs — striking from every direction at once. Bloodless, clean hits that left nothing but fading shadows.
Sera stood behind him, casting barriers to protect the villagers from stray flames.
Coren lifted his shield, intercepting a demon twice his size, pushing it back with a roar.
Lyra guided the wounded behind makeshift barriers, hands glowing with healing light.
Aria stood beside Suvarn, heart racing, blades drawn.
Suvarn's flame ignited, eyes burning with determination.
"Stay close to me, Aria."
"I will."
They fought together — Suvarn burning demons to ash, Aria slicing through their weak points with the clarity her strange power gave her — sensing their movements before they happened.
The battle raged, but with the Aetherbounds present, it wasn't a battle.
It was a cleansing.
Within minutes, the demons were wiped out.
The village fell silent, except for the crackle of dying flames and the soft sobs of the saved villagers.
Aria knelt beside a crying child, wiping soot from her face.
"It's alright," she whispered. "You're safe now."
The girl clung to her tightly.
Nearby, a mother fell to her knees thanking Suvarn, tears streaming down her cheeks. Suvarn bowed humbly, embarrassed and yet deeply moved.
Villagers crowded around the team, offering gratitude, relief, prayers.
And yet—
Elira stood slightly apart.
She was not looking at the people.
She was looking at the flames.
"Elira?" Deyr asked softly.
She didn't answer.
She stared at the burning tower on the far edge of the village — a tall watchtower, engulfed in flames, leaning but not yet fallen.
Deyr followed her gaze.
His eyes widened.
Because atop that burning tower—
stood a silhouette.
Flames curled around him like obedient serpents, yet none touched him.
The wind bowed away from his presence.
Dravon.
He stood watching them all — but his gaze lingered longest on one person.
Elira.
Her breath caught.
Her hand covered her mouth.
Tears welled in her eyes — not of fear, not of sorrow…
But of heartbreak and love intertwined.
Dravon did not move.
Did not speak.
He simply watched her.
No mockery.
No taunts.
No coldness.
Just a stare drowned in centuries of silence.
The flames behind him roared higher.
The tower groaned.
And before anyone could call his name—
he vanished into the darkness,
leaving only the echo of his gaze behind.