The forge district of Nolvaris never slept.
Even at night, the air shimmered with heat. Metal rang in steady rhythms. Aether hummed beneath everything—constant, controlled, alive.
Aetherwyn stood just outside one of the workshops, staring at the doorway.
"…This is the place?" he muttered.
Behind him, Filo leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"…You've asked that three times."
"…I just wanna make sure I don't walk into the wrong place."
Filo smirked faintly.
"…You'll live."
Aetherwyn exhaled and pushed the door open.
## **Inside the Forge**
Heat hit him instantly.
Not just fire—
Aether-infused heat.
The kind that didn't just burn.
It observed.
Aetherwyn slowed slightly as he stepped inside, eyes scanning the room. Tools lined the walls. Weapons rested in various states of completion. At the center—
The forge.
"…So this is where weapons get upgraded…" he said quietly.
"…Not upgraded."
The voice cut in cleanly.
"…Refined."
A figure stepped forward from the glow of the forge.
Older. Steady. Eyes sharp enough to measure more than just metal.
"…You're the kid," the man said.
Aetherwyn blinked.
"…The kid?"
"…The one who survived Elderglen."
Aetherwyn hesitated.
"…Yeah."
The word felt heavier than it should have.
Something in his chest tightened.
The man gave a small nod.
"…Good."
A pause.
"…Means your gear didn't fail you."
Aetherwyn glanced at his wand.
_Or maybe I just didn't die fast enough…_
"…Now let's see if it deserves to stay that way," the man continued.
Filo stepped in behind him.
"…Don't break it."
"…I won't," the man replied.
A small pause.
"…Unless it needs to be."
Aetherwyn instinctively tightened his grip on the wand.
_Break it?_
The man's gaze flicked toward him.
"…Relax."
"…If it breaks, it means it wasn't worth keeping."
That didn't help.
_Not the wand…_
_Not this…_
Aetherwyn exhaled slowly.
Everything here felt like a test.
_Not just the weapon…_
_Me._
"…Place it here," the man said.
Aetherwyn stepped forward and set the wand onto a circular Aether-bound platform.
The moment it touched—
It lit up.
Soft at first.
Then brighter.
"…Interesting," the man muttered.
"…What?" Aetherwyn asked quickly.
"…It's already aligned to you."
A pause.
"…That's rare."
Filo raised a brow.
"…Of course it is."
Aetherwyn glanced at her.
"…That didn't sound surprised."
"…It wasn't."
The man raised his hand.
Aether surged.
Not wild.
Not violent.
Precise.
Controlled.
It wrapped around the wand, threading through it—testing it.
Aetherwyn felt it.
Not physically.
But deeper.
Like something was brushing against his own Aether.
"…Whoa—"
"Don't fight it," the man said.
"…Let it flow."
_Flow… not force…_
Aetherwyn steadied his breathing.
He didn't push.
Didn't resist.
He let his Aether move naturally—
Meeting the forge's energy halfway.
The wand reacted instantly.
The glow stabilized.
Then sharpened.
Cleaner.
More defined.
"…There it is," the man said quietly.
"…That's your frequency."
Filo smirked.
"…Told you."
The Aether collapsed inward—
Then settled.
The light dimmed.
The wand rested still.
Changed.
Subtly.
But undeniably.
Aetherwyn picked it up.
"…It feels lighter."
"…Not lighter," the man corrected.
"…More efficient."
Aetherwyn rolled it slightly in his hand.
The flow felt smoother.
More responsive.
Less resistance.
_Like it finally stopped fighting me…_
Or—
_Like I stopped fighting it._
---
Something hit his chest.
"…Here."
Aetherwyn barely caught it.
"…What is this?"
"…Gear," Filo said.
"…Proper gear."
He unfolded it.
A dark, layered outfit revealed itself—structured but flexible. Clean lines. Reinforced sections without unnecessary bulk.
A cloak draped behind it—light enough to move, heavy enough to matter.
Faint purple accents traced through the fabric, woven with subtle Aether threading.
It wasn't flashy.
But it didn't need to be.
"…This is for me?" Aetherwyn asked.
"…Unless you think it'll fit me," Filo replied.
"…Put it on."
Aetherwyn didn't argue.
When he stepped back out—
Filo looked him over.
Slowly.
Measured.
"…Better."
Aetherwyn blinked.
"…That's it?"
"…You expected praise?"
"…A little."
"…Don't die and I'll consider it."
"…That's not how praise works."
"…It is for you."
Aetherwyn sighed.
But he moved.
Stepped.
Turned.
The outfit responded.
No drag.
No stiffness.
It followed his motion like it was part of him.
"…It moves with me…" he muttered.
"…Yeah," Filo said.
"…That's the point."
Aetherwyn looked down at his hands.
At the wand.
At the faint Aether flow threading through the fabric.
Everything felt—
Connected.
He stood there for a moment longer.
Quiet.
Still.
Elderglen flashed in his mind.
Fire.
Heat.
The moment everything changed.
_I'm not the same as before…_
_Not after that._
His grip tightened around the wand.
Not out of fear.
Out of certainty.
"…Alright."
A faint, determined smile formed.
"…Let's see what I can really do now."