CHAPTER 9: DESTINY HAS A WEIGHT

The streets of Luminis trembled with whispers.

"He’s returned..." the crowd echoed.

"The Banished Valerius has returned ."

"But... wasn’t he powerless?"

Kaelen Valerius strode through the fractured city, his boots crunching against cracked cobblestones blackened by the monstrous beast’s destruction. Heavy smoke coiled through the air. It carried the bitter scent of charred wood and blood.Echo walked beside him as his silent companion. He padded lightly, his silver-furred frame tense and alert. This confirmed the rumour that he was a beast tamer.

The people stared at the once rejected in fear, some bowed as Kaelen passed. It showed reverence shining in their eyes, while others recoiled, clutching their children tightly. His confidence made the murmurs rippled like a living current of doubt.

"No... no one wields such power without binding a demon."

"He’s dangerous. Mark my words. He will bring ruin."

And yet, others raised their voices above the uncertainty, their chants swelling:

"Hail the True Heir of the Valerius House!"

But within the towering spires of the Arcane Conclave, fear brewed like a storm. While the citizens saw a savior, the ruling families saw a threat. His presence was an unpredictable force capable of unraveling their centuries-old dominion over magic.

The Grand Conclave Hall loomed like a cathedral of power, carved from pale Aetherstone that hummed faintly with restrained energy. Above, the ceiling vanished into spirals of light where spells etched constellations into the air, bathing the chamber in an unnatural, shifting glow.

At the center, twelve Archmages stood in a tight circle, their jeweled staves pulsing faintly. The tension was thick enough to suffocate.

Lord Valerius, Kaelen’s father, stood at the heart of it, his robes black as obsidian, his expression a mask of cold precision. Beneath his composed exterior, however, burned barely contained fury.

"My son," he said at last, his voice edged with steel, "has returned from exile armed with powers forbidden and unknown. This cannot be ignored."

Archmage Soltair stepped forward, his robes adorned with flowing patterns of crimson flame, his tone growling with disbelief.

"We will not ignore it, Lord Valerius but neither should we condemn it. The boy saved Luminis when all others failed.Kaelen has proven himself a savior and should be commended,"

Loud gasps erupted from the chamber.

Archmage Marrowind slammed his staff against the marble floor, shadows curling around his feet like vipers.

"A savior?" he spat.

"That thing he wields is not magic as we know it. It is corruption. Abomination. If he is allowed to live, he will destroy us all." he warned spitefully.

A room echoed in agreement moved through Marrowind’s allies.

In order to lay a strong accusation on Kalen who the entire city views as a hero, they need proof. He was already a threat in their eyes.

Lord Valerius’ gaze darkened as he summoned Lyren, Kaelen’s younger brother. Lyren, whose heart is already clouded with jealousy, didn’t waste any chance to seize the moment.

"He is not what you think he is," Lyren declared.

Although his voice was shaking , it was loud to them all. This was the evidence they needed to brand him as a traitor.

"You did not see his eyes. You did not feel it. That is no mortal magic coursing through him. He is demon-touched, a danger to us all!"

The chamber descended into chaos, voices clashing like steel on stone.

Amid the uproar, a soft voice spoke, a whisper, yet it cut through the noise like a blade.

Serenya, the elusive Archmage draped in silver, tilted her head, her eyes glimmering unnaturally.

"Perhaps..." she said, "...we are witnessing the return of the Aetherborn."

Silence fell instantly. Even the ambient hum of the enchanted walls seemed to falter.

The word itself was forbidden.

The Aetherborn were ancient mages outlaws who once wielded the raw, untamed currents of Aether itself. They had been hunted to extinction centuries ago... or so history claimed.

"That is heresy," Marrowind snarled.

"Or prophecy," Serenya countered, her smile sharp and unreadable.

At that moment, lines were drawn. Factions silently formed. And the Conclave, once unshakable, began to fracture.

Kaelen moved through the lower districts of Luminis, Echo pacing at his side. Wherever he walked, silence followed, eyes and mouth withered .

"He’s the one!’’

People bowed in reverence, some daring to whisper blessings under their breath. Others shrank away as though his presence carried plague.

Above, banners depicting the Arcane Conclave’s sigil hung like watchful eyes, fluttering gently in the wind. Yet Kaelen could feel more than fabric watching him. Guards followed him at every turn, their presence subtle but deliberate.

And then... it hit him.

His Aether Sense flared violently, slamming into his mind like a tide breaking through a shattered dam.

The city came alive around him.

He saw threads of life passing through him like rivers of pulsating energy binding every living thing into an intricate lattice. He could trace the faint sparks of merchants bargaining across crowded squares, the fading embers of the injured clinging to life, and deep beneath it all, an ancient current flowing below Luminis itself, older and deeper than any mortal spell.

The sensation was intoxicating... and terrifying. The more he gets pulled in, the more it leaves him intoxicated.

For a single, dangerous heartbeat, Kaelen realized he could reach out and unmake those threads, sever them as easily as cutting silk.

Echo growled softly, grounding him, pulling him back from the edge.

Kaelen clenched his fists, steadying his breath.

He needed to gain total control.

He found Tiara near the shadowed steps of a ruined watchtower, her crimson cloak drawn tightly around her shoulders. The moment she saw him, her storm-gray eyes burned with fury.

"You fool," she hissed, stepping into his path. "Do you have any idea what you’ve done?"

Kaelen exhaled sharply.

"I saved lives." he replied nonchalantly.

"You exposed yourself," Tiara shot back, her voice low time.

"What is the purpose of showing yourself at this early stage," she highlighted.

"The Conclave already wants your head. You’ve handed them reason."

"Let them come," Kaelen said flatly. "I’m done running."

Her glare hardened.

"You think this is bravery, Kaelen? It’s not. It’s suicide."

She stepped closer, lowering her voice.

"That beast... the one from the Marches, it wasn’t natural."

Kaelen froze.

"What are you saying?"

"I tracked its Aether signature," she explained grimly.

"It matches the Blight Zones we studied. That thing was summoned or crafted... and whoever sent it knew exactly where you’d be."

Kaelen’s jaw tightened.

"The Conclave," he muttered.

Tiara didn’t answer but her silence said enough answers he needed.

"Now," she warned, "they’ll watch you. Every move. Every breath. You’ve stepped into their game, Kaelen... and they play to win." her voice grew curious.

That night, unable to rest, Kaelen followed a faint Aether trail, his heightened senses uncovered. It led him directly beneath the Conclave’s great spires.

He moved like a shadow through winding corridors until the path opened into a sealed chamber, lit only by floating crystals.

He heard muffled voices.

"The Source of Aetherium stirs," one Archmage whispered.

"We cannot contain it much longer."

"The pact will hold," another insisted. "It must. The boy doesn’t know."

"Not yet," a third voice rasped. "But his awakening was inevitable. His bloodline was engineered for this."

"It wouldn’t be long before it all begins"

Kaelen’s stunned at the revelation.

Before he could process the revelation, the crystals flared. Someone had sensed him.

He retreated swiftly, vanishing into the shadows before discovery.

But the words followed him, gnawing at his thoughts:

Source of Aetherium. Sealed Pact. Engineered bloodline.

"What was this all about?"He wondered to himself.

By dawn, a silver-clad courier arrived at Kaelen’s temporary quarters, his polished boots clinking softly against the marble floor as he approached.

"By order of Lord Valerius," the courier declared, bowing stiffly, his voice carrying the weight of formality,

"You have been summoned to House Valerius. His Lordship requests peace..."

Kaelen’s brow furrowed. He studied the courier carefully, noting the faint tremor in the man’s gloved hand, the quick dart of his eyes toward the door. He could tell he was trying to hide something about this message.

Before Kaelen could respond, Tiara stepped forward sharply, snatching the sealed letter from the courier’s hand. She tore it open and scanned the contents, her sharp intake of breath betraying her composure.

Her face paled instantly.

"Don’t go."

Kaelen turned toward her, his expression calm, almost unreadable. "Tiara..."

"No," she cut him off, her voice cracking slightly, uncharacteristically raw. "You can’t walk into this, Kaelen. You heard what the Council whispered last night. You heard them."

Kaelen’s jaw tightened at the memory. "That’s exactly why I have to go," he said quietly, pulling on his cloak with deliberate movements, fastening the silver clasp at his shoulder.

"I need answers, Tiara. About my exile. About my power. And most of all..." He hesitated, his voice dropping. "...about him."

Tiara stepped into his path, blocking the doorway. Her hands clenched at her sides, trembling with contained frustration.

"You think Valerius will give you answers?" she hissed. "He’s been weaving traps since before you were born! He’ll twist your doubts, make you question your own memories. Once you step inside those walls, you won’t be Kaelen anymore,you’ll be whatever he decides you are."

"Maybe," he admitted softly. "But if I don’t face him now, this power inside me... it’ll consume me before he ever gets the chance."

That morning was cold, he remained unyielding Finally, Tiara turned away sharply, fury and fear warring across her features.

"Then don’t expect me to save you when this goes wrong," she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word.

Kaelen stepped past her, his boots whispering against the polished stone floor, each step deliberate and controlled. Echo, his silent shadow, padded close behind him, the soft scrape of claws barely audible.

He didn’t look back.

The gates loomed ahead towering obsidian doors carved with symbols of dominance and bloodlines, their polished surface reflecting the pale morning light. The courier led the way but avoided Kaelen’s gaze, as though afraid to witness whatever would unfold next.

With a low, grinding groan, the doors opened just wide enough to admit him.

Kaelen crossed the threshold.

The massive obsidian doors swung shut with a thunderous boom.

And darkness swallowed him whole.