The morning sun spilled gold across Aetherion, brushing rooftops and walls with light. Birds sang energetically from the trees, and smoke rose in thin spirals from cooking fires. The village was alive with the sound of children running barefoot, merchants calling out, and the occasional bark of a goat.Elior rose from the small cot in his room with a stretch, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Yesterday’s adventures had left his muscles stiff, but the memory of the puppet clearing and the Law of Carving pulsing faintly in his chest made him feel a little alive again. His mother appeared at the doorway, hands on her hips, a frown resting on her face.“Elior,” she said, her tone sharp but not unkind, “you are grounded. That means no wandering off, no experiments, and no arguing. Today you fetch water from the village well and then prepare the herbs for drying. Understood?”“Yes, Mother,” Elior replied quickly. The words felt absurd after everything he had just seen and felt, but he nodded

The sun had begun its slow descent behind the distant hills of Aetherion, bathing the village in a soft orange glow. Shadows stretched across the courtyards, and the air was filled with the faint hum of evening activity. Villagers called out to each other, closing stalls, finishing chores, and preparing for supper.Elior sat on a low stone near his home, the wooden bird cradled carefully in his hands. The carved essence pathways traced faint lines beneath his fingers, and the small hollow heart in its center seemed to beckon for something it could not yet hold. He had spent the entire day carving items for the villagers—small toys, wooden cups, and simple utensils—but no matter how precise or careful he was, the feeling of incompleteness lingered.He set down the cup he had just finished, watching the sunlight glint across the carved patterns. Each item held subtle perfection, yet in his mind, nothing matched the potential he had glimpsed in the morning with the wooden bird. Something

The village slept under the silver gaze of the moon. Streets lay empty, silent but for the occasional rustle of wind through the trees or the soft creak of shutters swaying. Elior stood in the shadows of his home, his heart hammering. He was grounded—an immovable rule meant to keep him idle—but his body would not obey inertia. The pull of the hidden rune, the unfinished song of the wooden bird, and the gnawing curiosity that had taken root in him long ago refused to be quelled.He took a cautious step forward, then another, keeping low, listening. The air was cool, filled with the earthy scent of damp soil and distant smoke from village chimneys. Every sound felt amplified in the quiet night. His eyes flicked to the monkey at his side. The small creature’s red forehead mark caught the moonlight, glowing faintly, reflecting the tiny sparks of energy Elior always seemed to sense when the monkey was near.“I need to find runes,” Elior whispered under his breath, crouching low behind a lo

Elior ducked under the incoming punch, the wind from the blow scraping past his head. Dust burst upward where the fist struck the ground, leaving a shallow crater.He straightened, heart pounding, eyes locked on the remaining two golems.They were different from the one he destroyed.Their movements were sharper, more precise. Their bodies were stone, but something inside them pulsed faintly like a strange core of pale light.They approached without sound.The monkey on his shoulder hissed and clung tightly to his collar.Elior stepped back, inhaling deeply. The circulation of energy in his meridians was rough and strained, but he forced it into motion again. The celestial heart thumped a slow rhythm, and he guided the essence across his limbs.Not too much.He had learned that from the first clash.Primordial essence was terrifying, but it was also easy to lose control of.The second golem lunged.The third came in from the right at the same time, their attacks perfectly synchronized

Elior crept through the familiar path to his house, chest still racing from the morning chase. The twin swords were tucked beneath his tunic, hidden, and the monkey clung tightly to his shoulder, chattering softly as if sensing his unease.The sun had climbed high, yet the village was still mostly quiet. His heart leapt into his throat as he approached the doorway. He gently pushed it open, expecting the familiar silence of an empty house, but the sight froze him in place.His parents sat together at the low wooden table, hands folded calmly in front of them. Their eyes met his immediately, not in anger, but in anticipation, as if they had been waiting for him. The subtle worry in his mother’s eyes, the patient calm in his father’s—something stirred deep inside him.“Elior,” his father said softly, “come, sit.”Elior obeyed instinctively, sliding onto the bench across from them. His father’s gaze was steady, warm, not harsh. There was no scolding here, only concern.“You left the vill