The stars above Aetherion burned quietly, unaware that two forces beyond their light had begun to stir.Elior slept, but uneasily. His body was still small, his breath shallow, yet within him the faint outline of the Book of Laws glowed like an ember. Its protection still lingered, a thin barrier between his fragile soul and the endless dark that had tried to reach him.In that same endless dark, where distance and time meant nothing, the silence cracked.A figure stepped out of the void. His robe was white, not the dull white of cloth, but the blinding purity of creation itself. Each fold shimmered faintly, and his eyes were like twin suns that had seen the birth of worlds. Around him, the chaotic flow of laws straightened into perfect order, as though reality itself feared to misbehave before him.A calm smile touched his lips.“You came after all,” he said softly.The space beside him trembled. Shadows folded into themselves, forming the shape of another man — tall, sharp-featured,

Morning sunlight poured through the gaps between the roofs, filling the village square with warmth. Smoke rose from the cooking pits, and laughter drifted from the fields where the older folk were already at work. For once, the air felt peaceful. The excitement from the previous sensing day still lingered like the smell of roasted grain.Elior stood near the well, washing his hands before helping his mother pound herbs. The scent of crushed mint filled the air. He liked mornings like this, when the world felt simple and quiet. The pulse of essence inside him was calm now, flowing through the pathways the Book had created. Every few moments, he could still feel a faint hum in his chest where his Law Heart was forming, though he made sure to hide it.His father came from behind, carrying a sack of grain on his shoulder. “You’re up early again,” he said with a smile. “You must really want to beat everyone in tomorrow’s test.”Elior laughed softly. “Not really. I just couldn’t sleep.”“Th

The golden light of late afternoon stretched across the village, painting the wooden fences and tiled roofs in hues of fire and amber. Elior sat beneath the wide oak tree at the edge of his yard, knife in hand, carving a small piece of wood into the shape of a bird. His father had taught him the art of carving simple things — figures, animals, little toys for the younger children — to steady the mind and sharpen patience.The rhythmic scrape of the blade against wood calmed him. Each stroke left behind soft curls of shavings that fluttered onto his lap. He smiled faintly at the thought that, for the first time since awakening the Book of Laws, the world felt still again. But deep within his chest, he could still sense that single drop of golden essence pulsing like a heartbeat, faint but potent. It reminded him that even peace had weight.The quiet was broken by familiar voices calling his name.“Elior!”He looked up to see Lana and Taron running down the dusty road, faces flushed wit

The forest trembled beneath the roar of the beast. Dry leaves scattered in a frenzy, and the ground quaked under its weight. Elior steadied his stance, his breath shallow, his arm still faintly glowing with the last trace of golden essence. The monkey-like creature towered before them, its eyes burning crimson, its chest heaving as if mocking their fear.But instead of attacking, it paused.It tilted its head curiously, watching them like a child studying insects. Then, with a rough sound that was half-growl, half-laughter, it sprang backward onto a low branch, dragging Taron easily as if the boy weighed nothing.“Put him down!” Elior shouted. His voice cracked from panic and exhaustion.The creature only grinned. Its teeth glinted in the slanted light that filtered through the trees. Then, with a mocking chitter, it swung higher, the red mark on its forehead pulsing like a living ember.“Elior!” Lana cried, clutching his arm. “It’s taking him deeper into the woods!”“Follow it!” he ba

The walk back from the puppet field felt strangely quiet. The forest around them had grown dense, the air heavy with the residue of the old Law. Elior kept glancing behind him, his chest tight with the echoes of what he had just seen. The giant puppet at the center of the clearing lingered in his mind, its runes pulsing faintly in memory. Every step he took carried the weight of new understanding, and the faint pulse of the Law of Carving resonated in his soul.Lana held Taron’s arm firmly, steadying him as he struggled to keep pace. Both were quiet, their usual chatter subdued, as though the forest itself demanded respect. Leaves crunched under their feet and the wind whispered through the trees. Even the usual hum of insects felt muted. Elior sensed something watching them, though he could not see what.A rustle came from the side, soft but deliberate. Elior froze mid-step, his gaze snapping to the undergrowth. “Stay close,” he whispered. His hand brushed faintly against the golden