Beyond the Final Dawn

The days passed with quiet diligence. Aether devoted every free moment to refining his connection to mana. Though his young body lacked the strength to wield it properly, he knew that mastery began with understanding—not just of power but of oneself.

Each night, after his lessons with his father and the occasional company of his mother, he would sit cross-legged on the wooden floor of his small study and repeat the process. Breathing. Focusing. Feeling.

And with each attempt, his awareness sharpened.

He could now sense mana more distinctly—a flowing presence within him, like unseen rivers winding through his very being. But sensing wasn't enough. If he wanted to wield it, he needed control.

Yet, how does one control something that refuses to be grasped?

It was a puzzle, and Aether thrived on solving puzzles.

His past life had taught him the importance of patience, of trial and error. So, he experimented.

At first, he tried willing it to move—mentally commanding the flow to shift toward his fingertips. Nothing happened. Then, he attempted force, pushing his will onto the energy within him. Again, nothing.

It wasn't until he stopped forcing and started guiding that something changed.

Instead of demanding mana to obey him, he focused on feeling its natural movement—subtle ripples and pulses deep within his core. It was almost like learning to breathe again, not by control, but by letting his body do what it was meant to.

And in that moment, for the first time, he felt the mana respond—a faint flicker, barely more than a whisper.

His heart pounded in exhilaration.

It was progress. Small, but undeniable.

Yet, before he could delve further, a sudden voice interrupted his focus.

"Aether?"

His mother's gentle tone carried through the dimly lit hall outside. He quickly straightened, ensuring he didn't look suspicious. His progress with mana was his secret for now.

"Yes, Mother?" he replied calmly.

The door creaked open, and Lirien stepped inside, her silver-blue eyes filled with warmth. In her hands, she carried a small tray of food—a habit she had developed whenever she noticed him studying late.

"You shouldn't strain yourself too much," she said, setting the tray down on the table beside him. "You're still a child, no matter how serious you act."

Aether smiled slightly. If only she knew…

"I was just reading," he lied smoothly.

Lirien chuckled, brushing a few strands of his midnight-blue hair aside before kissing his forehead. "Then at least eat something before you rest. Your father would scold me if I let you go hungry."

Aether nodded, watching as she turned to leave.

But just before stepping out, she paused.

"…You remind me of someone, you know."

He raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

She smiled softly. "Your grandfather."

His eyes widened slightly. His grandfather?

Before he could ask further, Lirien had already disappeared into the hall, leaving Aether with more questions than answers.

Aether sat in silence, staring at the untouched meal before him.

'My grandfather, huh?'

For as much as he had learned about the Zephyrion bloodline, there was one thing he had yet to hear—what happened to the man who came before his father?

Aether lay awake long after his mother had left, his mind circling around her last words.

His grandfather.

He had always assumed that his father, Calem Zephyrion, was the head of their lineage. But if there was a predecessor, why had no one ever spoken of him?

Aether's curiosity burned, but he knew that asking too many questions would be unwise. If his grandfather was never mentioned, there had to be a reason.

And so, he decided to listen.

Over the next few days, he paid closer attention to the conversations around the estate. Servants whispering as they carried out chores, knights training in the courtyard, scholars discussing old records—every word, every hint of history, he absorbed like a sponge.

It wasn't until a week later that he caught his first clue.

Two of the household knights stood near the western wing of the estate, their voices hushed yet clear to Aether's sharp ears.

"…Lord Calem doesn't speak of him, so neither should we," one of them muttered.

The other hesitated. "But he was once—"

"Enough," the first knight cut him off sharply. "If you value your position, you'll forget the past."

Aether narrowed his eyes from behind the corner where he stood, unnoticed.

Something had happened. Something important.

And if it was something forbidden to speak of…

That only made Aether more determined to uncover the truth.

---

Later that evening, he found himself in the grand study—his father's private library. The scent of old parchment and polished wood filled the air as Aether's fingers traced the spines of countless books.

He needed records—family history, political archives, anything that could hint at what had been erased from memory.

His hands finally landed on an old leather-bound tome. The Zephyrion crest was etched into the cover, its once-golden emblem now faded with age.

He pulled it free and flipped through the pages.

There, amidst detailed records of the noble bloodline, he found a name.

Aldric Zephyrion.

The moment his eyes landed on it, his pulse quickened.

Aldric… That had to be his grandfather.

But as he scanned the entries beneath the name, a cold realization settled over him.

The records ended abruptly.

No date of death. No mention of exile. Nothing.

As if he had simply ceased to exist.

Aether clenched his jaw. Someone had deliberately erased his grandfather from history.

But why?

He exhaled slowly, closing the book and slipping it back into place. He had found his first real lead.

This wasn't just a forgotten piece of history.

It was buried.

And now, Aether would uncover the truth—no matter what it took.