She blasted out of the sky like a falling comet and slammed straight into the heart of the Tree Grave.
Trees bent and morphed as leaves, branches, and hanging silk simply disintegrated in a burst of white light around her impact point. Her eyes flared with seething radiance as her boots carved deep furrows into the warped ground, knees flexing hard to absorb the shock while her body rolled forward into a ready stance.
Silence.
It pressed in from every direction, thick and unnatural, swallowing even the rustle of her own cloak. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears—the only sound left in the world.
A tree groaned somewhere to her left. Bark cracked with a slow, wet pop.
Something stirred in the shadows just beyond her peripheral vision. Auriel stood perfectly still, motionless, peerless, every sense sharpened to a razor edge as she scanned the twisted trunks.
Then sound exploded back into existence.
She spun on her heel, weight shifting through her hips for perfect balance. Her blade materialised in a flash of starlight, grip snapping into her palm as she brought her arm down in a clean, powerful arc.
Metal met something solid yet wrong.
Resistance slammed up her arm like cutting through thick glass and half-remembered dreams at the same time. The expected screech never came—only a violent vibration that rattled her teeth and made her shoulders lock.
Light spilled outward in jagged shards, then folded back into itself with a sickening pull. The forest warped around her—trees twisting into dripping silk, silk hardening into brittle bone, bone dissolving into nothing.
She blinked once. The forest had already returned to its usual shape, and whatever she had seen was gone.
What…? She thought, unable to recall what just happened.
Sound was sucked into a penny-sized vacuum right in front of her face.
Air imploded as she brought her blade up in a blinding reaction.
Her cape snapped forward instead of back, whipping across her armour with a sharp crack. She braced her stance, boots sliding an inch across the ground as the blast wave trembled through her bones.
Her hands came through with blinding speed—an arced slash with immense power came in retaliation.
CRACK.
A ̸c͟r͠a͞c̸k͞ ̛o͘f̷ ̶b͝o̸n͝e͠?͏ ͜͞N̛͝o͝—s̶̢̨͢͜͜͞͞t̴̵̸͢͜͜͢͡ǫ̸̶͝͡͡͞͡n̨̡͢͢͡͞͞͠e̸͘͘͜͜͜͜͠͞?
A blurred pressure of air stormed past her—
S͘͞͡o̷͢͞m̢͜͢e̴͡͠t̢͜͞h̶̛͡i̵͘͡n̨͢͞g̢̕͘ ͝͡͞m͘͠͝o͢͡v̶͝͝e̶̛͡d͡͞͝… ͢͝͝i͡͞n͜͢s͢͝͡i͡͝d̕͜͠e͠͞͠ ͜͞t͝͞h͢͡e͝͝ ͢͠l̷͝͝i͜͞g͢͝h͡͞t͠͝.͝͞
Vibrations trembled through her blade as she felt a weight that she did not remember being there a heartbeat after.
J͘͞͡o̷͢͞i͢͡͝n̢͜͞t͘͞͡e͝͡͠d͞͝ ͠͞w̶͝͝r͡͞o͞͝͞n͞͝g͝͞.͝͞—
Black trees morphed, vanished then reformed.
B͡͞r̶͞i͜͝s̶͝͝t͞͡l͝͞e͜͝s͞͝ ͠͞o͜͞f͝͞ ͝͞t͞͝h͝͞r͝͞e͞͝a͝͞d͞͝ ͜͞a͞͝n͝͞d͝͞ ͞t͞͝e͞͝e͞͝t͞͝h͞͝ ͝͞o͜͞f͝͞ ͝͞g͝͞l͝͞a͝͞s͝͞s͝͞.͞
Her mind convulsed as if it couldn't comprehend the visuals that were being registered, her eyes squinted and twitched as the moment brought slight stabbing pains to her temples.
The ground trembled with a pressured shockwave, forcing her to shift her weight mid-stance.
Silence returned, heavier than before. Her armour rattled with it—a vibration instead of sound.
The silence bled—then, it screamed in reverse.
Her blade shook violently again in her grip as she lunged forward, relying on instinct alone—its edge screamed like cut glass dragged across stone.
For one frozen instant she saw it clearly: eight points of a silhouette forming and unforming, like the mind desperately remembering a lost dream.
Then the image ceased to exist, replaced by the hiss of white noise that scraped inside her skull.
What… Did I strike?
The answer slid away before her thoughts could pin it down. Only the smell lingered—burnt silk and bark.
When she glanced at her surroundings again, the forest had gone still. Her armour steamed gently in the cold air. The canopy above trembled as though the entire woods had just shook with a violent force.
She felt watched… and yet utterly, terrifyingly alone.
Then she noticed it.
Parts of her vision were simply gone—not blurred, not darkened. Texture itself had vanished.
The tree beside her, a whole chunk of trunk the width of her shoulders, had disappeared. She slid her blade across the empty space and met solid resistance.
The trunk was physically still there, but now her blade's edge refused to exist, like ink had been dragged over its surface, erasing its shape from one's vision.
Interesting… she thought, eyeing the blade.
It's not invisible… but a creature that plays with perception—and perhaps, partial existence.
Behind her, the silk began to hum again—a vibration she heard but also vaguely remembered.
This thing is irritating.
She sighed through her teeth, retracted her blade back into a glowing yellow shard with a sharp flick of her wrist, and lifted herself smoothly off the ground. She glided just above the earth, boots hovering inches above the warped soil.
Light blipped into existence around her in perfect formation. Lumeris's constellations drew themselves along invisible Essence grids—condensing, spinning, tightening their orbits with increasing speed.
She pulled her own Vitalis inward, smaller, denser, coiling every ounce of power like a star about to go nova.
Constellation of Lumeris.
For one heartbeat the air itself froze.
Then she snapped outward.
The constellations detonated in a blinding ring of shooting starlight, erasing everything in a perfect sphere around her. Black bark shredded into ash. Dead leaves vanished mid-fall. Strands of silk ripped apart thread by thread. The ground was eviscerated in a clean, glowing crater.
Something so beautiful… yet so deadly.
She let out a long, shaky breath. Her arms rattled with the aftershock. The use of so many high-tier arts in one day had drained a dangerous amount of her Vitalis—her limbs felt heavier, her focus slightly frayed at the edges.
She glanced at her surroundings and spotted something peculiar half-buried in the fresh crater.
A shadow-shaped gouge bit into the earth—a patch where texture had failed to exist entirely. Eight, maybe ten legs. A swollen lower mass. A grotesque upper mouth lined with too many joints. A being of pure wrongness.
Its shape almost made sense… but came with an uncanniness that made her stomach twist.
Perhaps that was why it hunted through perception—as though existence itself resisted it until another mind gave it shape.
Auriel scanned the area one final time. The forest was dead now. No life persisted here. The previous silk was gone—a concept that had erased itself along with its host.
Now only the quiet existed.
She had enough.
Auriel shot back into the sky without another glance, dust and debris clearing off of her as she climbed.
Now… where did that trail go…
—— ❖ —— —— ❖ —— —— ❖ ——
There it is again…
That smell.
Sweetness drifting on the air, faint, warm, and wholly out of place.
Bird meat?
Auriel slowed her flight, tilting her head as the scent tugged her gaze downward. The forest broke open below into a ragged clearing—a scar carved violently into the land. Earth torn open, stone bitten black and glassy, and at its centre a small cabin sat half-buried in shifting shadow.
An explorer's amused huff escaped her lips.
"What do we have here…"
She descended in total silence, her boots met the ground with a whisper that barely disturbed the dust. The impact sent a faint ripple through the glossy surface beneath her.
She took in her surroundings with careful, measured steps.
The ground was wrong—glossy, mirror-black, like cooled glass after a cataclysmic impact. Her steps clicked softly as metal met the unnatural surface.
Suddenly the air changed.
Frost crept over her greaves in delicate patterns, her breath ghosting white in front of her face. A frozen tree rose at the heart of the scar, its branches reaching desperately outward toward the warmth it could no longer find. Frost crawled up its trunk in elegant spirals, blooming like veins of captured lightning frozen in time.
Her eyes narrowed.
Tilting her head, she peered straight into its heart. She sensed a pulse locked within—faint but rhythmic. Then slight rumbling vibrations through the ice, which made its way through the ground and up her boots.
The vibrations of echoing Essence—it felt wrong, disturbing.
Something not of this world.
It's an Opening, she thought, her hand twitched, ready to summon her weapon at any given second.
And it's active.
Her mind sharpened instantly. Heliandor would need to know. It had to be contained before the tear widened any further.
But then she felt something else—faint, subtle, laced through the frost like a hidden thread.
Luminary Essence twisted by a being's Vitalis.
It was something she could just about sense now she had achieved the Magica rank of Aetherial—more entwined with Essence, but more importantly, the interaction through Luminary and Vitalis.
Someone has been here.
And their signature… is familiar?
Her gaze lifted to the cabin beyond the scar.
Question is… who caused it?
…
Wood let out a soft sigh of a creak as her boots touched down on the small porch. She stood at the cabin's entrance, hand hovering near the door.
She pressed her palm flat against the rough wood and stepped inside.
Inside was still, yet warm. A fire had been tended recently—slight remnants of ash and smoke still clung to the air, mixing with the faint scent of roasted meat.
The space was humble and practical: one chair, one narrow bed, a simple desk, everything a lone traveller would need and nothing more.
Near the far end lay a young man, sprawled on his back across the bed, utterly oblivious to the outside world and the destruction that had just shaken the forest.
She went to take a step forward but then hesitated, weight shifting back onto her heels.
Wait… am I breaking into someone's home?
She blinked, then gave a small shrug, cheeks warming slightly.
…It's fine. H-he's suspicious.
She stepped lightly as she moved through the room, armour barely whispering. She peeked at the desk to her left—a worn journal, stained by water or maybe even blood.
Her curiosity won out.
She opened it with careful fingers.
Pages flipped beneath her touch: notes on terrain, local fauna, ruins and cave exploration sketches. Nothing immediately tugged at her—she had seen far stranger things in her years.
Another page turned.
Then stopped.
Her finger glided along words that caught her eye like a hook.
'Ancient Temple.'
'I found it!'
Light flicked dangerously in her eyes. Her expression hardened. Heat steamed off her.
Aura flared with murderous intent.
A blade of starlight coalesced in her grip with a flick of her wrist—smaller this time, a shortsword that hummed with restrained heat.
Each step she took toward the napping figure made her Aura thrum louder—a rising pulse of judgment and duty.
But just before she reached him, she stopped dead.
Something shifted inside her chest. The blade wavered, then folded back into its shard form with a soft click.
She felt it again—that same resonance from before.
A pulse of Vitalis unlike any mortal's, washing from him in gentle, perfect rhythm. It bent the Luminary Essence around him as though the two were dancing an ancient, familiar waltz.
Impossible.
Her breath caught in her throat.
"…Stars."
Why does… this man feel like the stars? She thought, cocking her head slightly.
She knelt slowly, drawn closer despite herself. The sensation was too familiar, too intimate to ignore.
Like my Astral Weave. Like Father…
The word escaped before she could stop it.
"Father?"
Her hand flew to her mouth, eyes wide with shock.
No. Impossible.
Only ones given Inheritance of Dawn can give off this feeling.
She studied his face in the dim glow filtering through the window. The features were soft, unguarded—utterly human.
"A mere man could never gather the stardust required," she whispered, voice barely audible, "let alone bind it to his own being…"
If Father felt this, he'd… Her hands trembled slightly at her sides.
She knelt lower, bringing her face closer, heart hammering.
…Who are you?
The journal still lay open on the desk, the ink drying on the word Temple.
An Opening not far from his door.
A resonance that felt like home.
Too much coincidence for chance.
Auriel's thoughts drifted backward, pulling at half-remembered stories.
I remember…
Mother told me stories when I was little—stories as old as the oldest Seraphels. Passed down as fairy tales. Of beings that fell from the heavens like sparks made form.
The legends say they drove away the Tyrants who ruled for a thousand years. Who began the Dynasties, giving land to the many races that fought under them.
The old name rose unbidden in her mind.
Fallen stars.
She rested her head atop her folded arm on the edge of the bed, eyes lingering on the peaceful figure. Luminary light played around him in invisible currents—invisible to most, but alive and dancing to her.
Her exhaustion got the better of her as her heavy eyelids slowly shut.
…
After an unknown stretch of time, she woke with only half a memory of where she was.
That may have been dangerous… She thought, wiping drool from her lips.
Her heart paced faster when her eyes lay on the same man in front of her. Her stomach knotted with equal parts dread and wonder.
Handsome. Mysterious. Presence of the stars. Radiant eyes…
Mother… I think I found him, my—wait, eyes?
Two dark blue pupils stared back at her. Glowing faintly, saturated with Vitalis. They absorbed her light, illuminating the many glittering sparks within.
"…uh," he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
"…um—" she echoed, frozen in place.
Their eyes locked, both staring in complete confusion.