Astraedus Academy – Skyward Archives, Forbidden Spire

  Rain hissed against the old glass windows as stormlight filtered through the tallest spire of the academy. The Skyward Archives had long been sealed to students, its records guarded by ancient sigils and keepers bound in silence.

  But tonight, the sigils flickered.

  Within the forbidden chamber, a lone figure traced his fingers across a weathered page—written in a script older than mana itself. The boy was no older than Aeon, yet his presence carried a gravity that made time itself hesitate.

  Silver hair. Violet eyes that saw through illusions. And a smile that never quite reached his eyes.

  “So… Aeon walks again.”

  The boy’s name was Sol Vyren, and his bloodline was erased from all known records for a reason. He was not just a watcher of history—he was once its author.

  And now, he had returned.

  Astraedus Academy – Dormitory Hallway, Room 87A

  Aeon jolted awake.

  His breath was shallow, skin damp with sweat, the dream fading fast—but one image remained:

  Sol, standing beneath a burning moon, whispering his name.

  He swung his legs over the bed, feeling the glyph-scroll still humming with low mana on his desk. It had started glowing on its own again. Aeon narrowed his eyes.

  Someone had just accessed his forgotten memories.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Lysira barged in, uninvited as usual. “You felt that too, huh?” she said. “There was a mana pulse from the Skyward Spire—right after your glyph flared. Whatever it was… it’s ancient.”

  Aeon stood slowly, heart still pounding. “I think I’m being watched.”

  “By who?” she asked, eyes sharp.

  He turned toward the window, the distant spire in view.

  “By someone who remembers me better than I do.”

  Astraedus Academy – Western Battlemaster Wing, Private Arena

  Kael Rynlor slammed his fist into the marble column, sending a pulse of thunder through the walls. Veyra, his sister, sat cross-legged on the ground, arms folded.

  “He’s not what we thought,” Kael growled. “Aeon’s not some random prodigy. He’s something… older. I felt it during our duel.”

  Veyra smirked. “Finally catching up, brother?”

  Kael gave her a sharp look. “We need to know what he is. Because if he isn’t human, and he isn’t just some magic freak—he could be the reason the old seals are failing.”

  Veyra’s eyes glinted. “Or he could be the key to breaking them all.”

  Underground – Vault of Lost Truths

  Zelphira knelt before the sealed statue. Its arms crossed, its eyes closed. Yet cracks had begun to form across its chest.

  “He’s awake,” she said softly, her fingers pressed to the seal. “Aeon… he’s remembering.”

  Myris frowned. “Too fast. The timelines aren’t aligned. If Aeon recovers his true name too soon—”

  Zelphira interrupted. “Then the balance we sought to control will shatter.”

  Behind them, a presence emerged from the darkness.

  Tall. Armored in shifting shadows. Vael Virelios.

  He stepped between the light and the seal, his voice as cold as starlight.

  “Let him awaken. Let him remember. That’s the only way I’ll know…”

  He turned his glowing eyes toward the statue.

  “…if he’s still worthy of being broken.”

  Astraedus Academy – Rooftop Observatory

  Aeon stood beneath the stars.

  He hadn’t spoken for hours. Lysira sat beside him, arms around her knees, letting the silence stretch.

  “I remember a name,” Aeon finally said.

  Lysira turned to him.

  “A name I don’t think is mine. But it echoes when I use magic. When I fight. When I bleed.”

  She didn’t speak. She just listened.

  Aeon’s voice lowered, almost a whisper.

  “Elysiar. That was the name. And it wasn’t whispered like a memory. It was shouted—like a war cry.”

  Lysira paled. “Aeon… that’s a forbidden word. It was once the title of a god.”

  “I know.”

  He stood up, the wind swirling around him, mana coiling faintly at his feet.

  “And I think I was him.”