Arin never believed in destiny.
He was a firm believer in hard work, peaceful nights, and surviving another day. It was intended to be a routine night. The village slept under a pale moon, surrounded by the dark forest that everyone feared. Together with his mother, Arin lived in a small wooden house at the edge of the village. The breeze was quiet. Too serene. Then—
BOOM.
The ground trembled.
Arin jumped from his bed. The dogs howled outside. The air felt heavy, as if the world itself was holding its breath.
"Arin! Avoid going outside! his mother shouted.
However, Arin saw it. From the ancient banyan tree, the forbidden location, a blue light penetrated the sky. Everyone said that tree was cursed.
Everyone said those who went there never returned the same.
Arin was pushed forward by a force. Before he could stop them, his feet started to move. When he reached the tree, the earth beneath it glowed with strange symbols—ancient runes burning with silver and blue fire.
Then he heard a voice in his head echo. "At last… the heir has awakened."
Arin's right hand went into a rage of pain. A glowing symbol carved itself into his skin.
The sky roared with thunder.
And in that moment, Arin's ordinary life ended forever.
Arin gave in and fell to his knees. The pain subsided, but the mark remained, still alive and softly burning. From the shadows beneath the banyan tree, a figure emerged. Tall. Cloaked in darkness. Like dying stars, its eyes sparkled. "You carry the Blood of Aether," the figure said.
"The last living legacy of magic."
Arin's voice was shaking. "Magic isn't real."
The figure laughed—a sound like cracking stone.
"Next, describe the mark on your hand." Memories flooded Arin's mind—wars he never fought, spells he never learned, cities falling under blazing skies.
"You were hidden," the figure continued.
"Protected until the world needed you again."
Horns from afar suddenly reverberated throughout the forest. Hunters.
"They've sensed you," the figure warned.
"Run. The entire world will burn if they take you. The figure vanished before Arin could ask any more questions. Footsteps approached.
Arin ran.
Arin burst through the forest, branches cutting his skin.
Voices are behind him. Clacking from armor. Cold, disciplined voices.
"Target confirmed."
"Detected the bearer of the sigil." Through enchanted masks, men in black armor emerged, their eyes glowing red. One raised his hand.
A bolt of dark energy shot past Arin, blasting a tree into ashes.
Magic.
True magic. The mark on Arin's hand responded to his scream. A wave of blue light exploded outward.
The hunters were thrown back like broken dolls.
Arin stared at his hand in horror.
"I did that..." From the shadows, a familiar voice whispered:
"Power answers fear before control."
The cloaked figure returned.
"They will never stop," he said.
"Because you hold the key to either starting or ending the last war." Arin took a big inhale. "What do I do?"
The figure met his gaze.
"You learn.
Or you die."
Arin followed the cloaked figure through the forest until the air itself began to change.
The trees grew taller. The shadows moved out of character. Then, reality was exposed. They saw a wall of glimmering light in front of them. The figure stated, "This is the Veil." "The line that separates our world from yours." Arin hesitated. "And what if I break it?" "You will never be normal again."
Arin clenched his marked hand.
"I already crossed that line."
He made his way forward. Light and sound shattered the world and rebuilt itself. They were in a huge city with floating towers, glowing runes, and skyscraping light rivers. Creatures of magic walked openly. Everything was powered by spells. Arin's breath caught.
"This… this is real?"
"This is Aetherion," the figure replied.
"The final haven of magic."Arin was taken to the Academy of the Lost, a white stone fortress with ancient spells. Inside, students learned to use raw magic, blades, and staffs. Fearful eyes focused on Arin's glowing mark. Others—with hatred.
A woman with sharp eyes and silver hair approached. "So this is him," she said coldly.
"The Last Survivor." "I'm Master Elowen," she continued.
"And your training begins right now." The training was hard. Arin failed spell after spell.
regained control multiple times. "You're weak," Elowen snapped.
"Magic does not respond to emotion but to discipline." Arin sat on her own that night. "I can't do this," he whispered.
The mark pulsed.
A voice answered from deep within him—
"You are not weak. You have not awoken. The ground trembled.
Arin's power surged, ancient, unchecked, and terrifying. The Academy sounded the alarm.
A room with floating runes that was circular was where the Council gathered. An ancient book hovered in the center—The Codex of Endings.
Elowen read aloud:
"When the Heir awakens,
the Seals shall break.
The world shall either be saved…
or burned to ash."
Elder with a hood spoke. "The Dark Sovereign is back." Arin's temperature dropped. "He hunts the Heir," the elder continued.
"Because he can only be killed by the Heir." Arin glanced at his glowing hand from below. "So I'm not just a student."
Elowen met his eyes.
"No.
You are a weapon.
And a target."
The sky got darker outside the Academy. Far away, something ancient opened its eyes.
The war had begun.Throughout the night, the Academy's alarm bells rang. Arin fled. The students were yelling. Masters were casting spells that protected them. The sky split open like broken glass above Aetherion. Dark creatures poured through the rift—shadows shaped like beasts, their eyes glowing crimson.
"Elowen!" Arin shouted.
She appeared beside him instantly, her staff blazing with light.
"This is your first real test," she said. "Don't be afraid." Arin was attacked by one of the creatures. He felt a surge of anxiety. And the mark answered.
His arm was wrapped in blue flames. He was led by instinct rather than training. Arin put out his hand. A spear of light shot forward.
The creature dissolved into ash.
Arin blinked as he stared. "I… I did that."
Elowen gave a grim nod. "Yes. And they could feel it. High above the battlefield, something watched him.
Someone beaming.The Academy was damaged but still standing after the attack. Meetings of the Council were secret. "We were breached from the inside," one elder said.
"From the outside, the Veil cannot be opened so precisely." Like poison, suspicion spread. Arin had trouble sleeping that night. He felt that pull once more. He followed it into the lower halls of the Academy, where magic hummed uneasily.
Then he saw her.
Lyra.
one of the best pupils. Calm. Brilliant. Kind.
She stood before a glowing portal of dark magic.
She said softly, "You shouldn't be here," and she didn't look around. Arin was frozen. "Lyra… what are you doing?"
She looked at him with regret in her eyes. "I was sent to watch you," she said.
"From the moment you arrived."
"By who?"
The shadows moved.
The room was filled with the sound of a voice— "By me."
The darkness took the form of a massive figure topped with black flame. The Dark Sovereign.
Lyra whispered, "I'm sorry."
The world shattered into darkness.Arin couldn't breathe.
The Dark Sovereign came forward and crushed the air with his presence. He said calmly, "So," "the Last Heir stands before me."
Arin made it a point to speak. "You demolished the previous world." The Sovereign laughed.
"No. I freed it from weak magic."
He raised a hand—and time seemed to slow.
"I was once like you," he continued.
"Chosen. Feared. Hunted."
The burn from Arin was terrible. The Sovereign replied, "You can rule alongside me." "Or die like the others."
Suddenly—light exploded through the chamber.
Elowen and the Masters arrived, attacking together.
Unperturbed, the Sovereign retreated into the shadows. He looked straight into Arin and said, "This is not the end." "This marks the beginning." The gloom vanished. Lyra collapsed, crying.
Arin remained still. He understood now.
This war wasn't just about power.
It was about choice.
And the final choice would be his.The battlefield was silent.
The Dark Sovereign had vanished, leaving only whispers of his power lingering in the air.
Arin stood amidst ruins of the Academy's outer courtyard, dust swirling around his boots.
His hand's mark shone brighter than ever. Lyra, still alive but bruised, crawled alongside him. "You… survived," she whispered.
Arin looked at his hands.
He said softly, "They made me something I never asked to be." "I'm… the Last Heir."
Elowen showed up, exhausted, and her battle-damaged staff was dim. Arin, you are more than just a weapon. You are the choice this world needs."
Suddenly, the sky tore open again, revealing the Shadow Rift.
Through it, the Dark Sovereign appeared—bigger, more terrifying, fire licking his black crown.
"You cannot escape your fate, Heir," he boomed.
"I will finish what started hundreds of years ago." Arin took a breath. In a single instant, he was put to the test of everything he had learned—the control, the spells, and the raw power. He went to sleep. The voice of the ancient magic whispered inside him:
"Power doesn't define you; choice does. Choose with care. He opened his eyes.
He had two choices: Fight the Dark Sovereign with everything he had, risking everything including himself and Lyra.
Accept the Sovereign's offer, gain unimaginable power, but put your soul and the world at risk. Time slowed down. Arin was able to feel every magic pulse and heartbeat in the world. He made his way forward. A surge of blue light exploded from his mark.
The ground shook, and the air itself seemed to warp.
Smiled the Dark Sovereign. "So… what will it be?"
Arin's voice rang like thunder:
"I select the world" Blue flames shot outward, forming a protective barrier around the Academy.
The Sovereign screamed, unable to penetrate it, but the rift remained open.
Arin turned to Lyra.
"We fight together," he said.
"Not as master and pawn… but as guardians."
The Shadow Rift pulsed violently.
A voice echoed from the void itself:
"The final war has begun…"
As lightning shattered across the heavens, the sky became darker. Arin looked at his hands. The mark glowed brighter, almost alive.
He also became aware of something terrifying for the first time: This was just the beginning with the Dark Sovereign. Greater forces awaited somewhere beyond the rift. And Arin... was now the only way in. The story paused, leaving the fate of Aetherion and the Last Heir in suspense.