In the past


    The early morning sun filtered through the grand halls of Aetherum, casting intricate patterns of light and shadow along the stone floors. The city itself seemed to hum with the quiet energy of magic, a force as old as the world that thrummed through the veins of every building, every tree, and every person within its borders.


    In a secluded corner of the city, Maelor''s team gathered in the atrium of the Sanctum Veridica, a place reserved for those preparing for missions that carried the weight of the Aetherian Council''s authority. The air buzzed with anticipation as the young Arcanists stood in a loose formation, their faces a mixture of determination and barely concealed excitement.


    Maelor, their commander, stood at the center, a towering presence with earthy roots literally intertwined with his very essence. His dark hair was streaked with silver, and his eyes—those deep, storm-grey eyes—commanded attention without effort. His connection to the earth was visible in the way small vines and bits of soil seemed to cling to him, though they never dirtied his simple yet regal armor.


    To his left stood Ignis, his fiery red hair a wild mess of curls that seemed to dance like flames in the wind. His intense, molten-gold eyes burned with an inner fire, always on the lookout, always ready to unleash the blazing fury simmering beneath his skin. A silver hoop adorned his right ear, from which hung a small charm shaped like a flame, swaying gently—a subtle but ever-present reminder of the power he wielded.


    Zephyr stood a little farther back, leaning casually against a stone pillar, his light gray eyes glinting with amusement. His silver hair, straight and silky, cascaded down to his shoulders, always in a state of subtle motion, as if stirred by an unseen wind. The cloak he wore was a shimmering silver, nearly translucent, fluttering gently even though the air remained calm. His presence was serene yet undeniably powerful, like the calm before a storm.


    Riven stayed close, as he always did, the ever-present shadow to Maelor’s commanding presence. His red eyes, sharp and unwavering, rarely strayed from his commander, a dangerous glint always lurking beneath the calm. Black hair, falling just past his shoulders in a disheveled cascade, stirred subtly, as if the magic within him was constantly simmering just beneath the surface. The faint pulse of blood tattoos under his skin was a quiet reminder of the lethal force he carried, a power that could turn deadly in an instant. There was something unsettling about him, a tension that never quite left the air when he was near. But despite the unease he stirred, Riven’s fierce loyalty to Maelor was clear to everyone, a bond no one dared question.


    At the far end, looking slightly out of place but with no less determination, stood the youngest members of the team: Aria and Taron. They were the newest recruits, not yet battle-hardened like the others, but their potential was undeniable. Aria’s raven-black hair, streaked with cosmic-purple highlights at the temples, shimmered under the morning light. Her bright blue eyes were alight with curiosity, tempered by the seriousness of the mission ahead.


    Taron, standing beside her, cut a striking figure. His blond hair, long but neatly tied back, glowed in the sunlight, contrasting sharply with the deep green of his eyes. He had the bearing of someone who carried the weight of his heritage, a Sylphar, with the power of air and earth at his command. His calm demeanor gave off an aura of quiet strength.


    “Alright, gather up,” Maelor’s voice rumbled through the atrium, snapping everyone to attention. His tone was firm but not harsh, a leader who commanded respect without needing to demand it.


    Aria and Taron moved closer, their eyes on Maelor as he spoke. Ignis and Zephyr exchanged a glance, though Zephyr’s smirk never quite faded.


    “The Council received reports of unusual activity near the Western Wilds,” Maelor began, his voice steady. “Animals—creatures attuned to magic—have started behaving erratically. They’re turning on each other, even crossing into human settlements. The Council believes someone’s using an artifact to manipulate them.”


    Zephyr crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing in interest. “What kind of artifact?”


    Maelor glanced at him, a flicker of concern in his eyes. “A relic from the early days of Aether—one that can disrupt and control the natural flow of magic in living creatures. It’s incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands. We suspect it was stolen by a group of mercenaries called the Nocturnals.”


    A low whistle escaped Zephyr’s lips. “So we’re dealing with guerilla tactics and forbidden magic. Lovely.”


    Riven, who had been quiet until now, stepped forward, his expression unreadable. “Nocturnals are unpredictable. They’ll use the terrain against us.”


    Maelor nodded. “Which is why we need to be prepared for anything. The area we’re heading to is wild territory—full of creatures attuned to magic. If they’ve been affected, we’re walking into chaos.”


    “Just another day in Aether,” Ignis muttered, his hand already resting on the hilt of his blade, a flame-shaped charm hanging from his wrist.


    Aria shifted slightly, her brows furrowed. “What’s the plan for dealing with the artifact once we find it?”


    Maelor gave her a measured look. “Your job is to secure it. We’ll handle the rest.”


    Taron, always the more pragmatic of the two, added, “And the creatures? Do we neutralize them?”


    Maelor’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Only if necessary. Our priority is the artifact. But don’t hesitate to defend yourselves if it comes to that.”


    Zephyr gave a dramatic sigh, his hand running through his wind-tousled hair. “So we go in, grab the shiny death trap, and hope we don’t get eaten by magic-crazed animals or blown up by mercenaries. Got it.”


    “More or less,” Maelor said, though his tone was serious.


    “Let’s not make this harder than it needs to be,” Riven muttered, his eyes flickering to Maelor before sweeping over the rest of the team. “We stick together, follow orders, and don’t get sloppy.”If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Aria shot Taron a glance, her blue eyes shimmering with a mix of excitement and nerves. This was her chance to prove herself, to show that she wasn’t just the youngest on the team, but a valuable asset.


    Taron caught her look and gave her a brief nod, his usual calm steadying her. “We’ve got this,” he whispered under his breath, his voice barely audible over the hum of magic that seemed to pulse through the atrium.


    Maelor turned, his eyes sweeping across the team, taking them all in one last time. “We leave in an hour. Be ready.”


    As the team began to disperse, gathering their gear and preparing for the mission, Riven lingered by Maelor’s side. “You think they’re ready for this?” he asked quietly, his gaze following Aria and Taron as they walked off.


    “They’ll have to be,” Maelor replied, his voice low. “The stakes are too high for them not to be.”


    Riven didn’t respond immediately, but the concern was evident in the way his fingers flexed, small tendrils of blood magic curling through the air around him. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”


    “I know you will,” Maelor said, clapping a hand on Riven’s shoulder. “And on me.”


    Riven gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Always.”


    As the hour passed, the team gathered once more, this time fully armed and ready. Their armor gleamed under the sunlight, enchanted with protective wards and intricate designs that reflected their connection to the elements.


    The portal hummed with an ancient, low energy as Maelor led the team through its shimmering surface. The world around them flickered and shifted, the familiar structures of Aether disappearing, replaced by the untamed wilderness of the Western Wilds.


    The moment they emerged, the first thing that hit them was the silence. It wasn’t the peaceful kind, but a tense, almost suffocating stillness, as though the entire forest held its breath. The air was thick with magic, the kind that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, as if the very ground pulsed with the rhythm of a force beyond their understanding.


    Aria stepped out of the portal, her senses immediately heightened. She could feel the energy in the air, the way it pressed against her skin, prickling at her nerves. The trees around them were massive, their bark twisting in unnatural patterns, and the leaves shimmered faintly, as though they were charged with magic. In the distance, the low hum of wildlife rumbled, though it felt off.


    “This place feels wrong,” she muttered, her hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her blade.


    Taron came up beside her, his gaze sweeping the landscape. The wind that brushed against his skin carried an unsettling chill, as though the very air was watching them. He said nothing at first, but his brow furrowed deeply. “It’s not just you,” he replied quietly. There’s something disrupting the flow of magic here.”


    Ignis furrowed his brow, eyes scanning the thick underbrush ahead. "That’s not something we see every day."


    Maelor stood a few steps ahead, already surveying their surroundings. His presence was grounding, a pillar of calm amidst the strange energy. He knelt down, pressing his hand against the earth, feeling its pulse. A faint tremor ran through the ground, and his eyes narrowed in thought.


    Riven stood off to the side, his dark eyes scanning the treeline. He didn’t say anything, but his posture was tense, like a predator sensing another nearby. His hand hovered near the small pouch at his side, ready to summon his blood magic at a moment’s notice.


    Zephyr, however, seemed unfazed. His fiery hair caught the last rays of sunlight as he stretched lazily, cracking his neck. “Alright, let’s get this over with. The sooner we shut down whatever’s causing this mess, the sooner we can get back to a real fight.”


    Maelor’s voice cut through the air, firm but measured. "Stay sharp. We’re not dealing with an ordinary disturbance. Whatever has caused this... it’s likely watching us as much as we’re watching it." His gaze lingered on each member of the team, a silent reminder of the danger they were about to face.


    Riven stepped closer to Maelor, his usual bravado replaced by a more thoughtful air. "If it’s Nocturnals interference, they’re probably using some kind of technomagical artifact. Varyk’s always been clever about mixing tech and magic. We should assume the worst."


    Maelor crossed his arms, eyes shifting between the treeline and his team. "Then we prepare for both," he said firmly. "Ignis, Zephyr—stay close to Aria and Taron. We don’t know how these creatures will react if provoked, so we keep things quiet until we find the source."


    Aria, her face set in quiet determination, adjusted her tunic and took a step forward, her hands instinctively brushing the two violet strands of hair by her temples. "What about Riven?" she asked, her tone hinting at a playful challenge. "I’m guessing he’s not going to be quiet."


    Riven shot her a grin, baring his fangs slightly. "I’ll behave—for now. But when the time comes, don’t expect me to sit still."


    Maelor smirked, clearly used to the banter between his team members. "Riven, save it for when we need it. You’ll get your fun soon enough."


    They moved cautiously through the underbrush, the air heavy with tension as they ventured deeper into the unknown. The trees loomed taller, casting long shadows across the forest floor. The sounds of the magical creatures, once distant, now echoed faintly around them—growls, screeches, and the eerie rustling of wings.


    As they progressed, Taron kept close to Maelor at the front of the group, his senses attuned to the natural elements around them. His connection to the air and the earth was strong, and he could feel every shift, every tremor underfoot. He could tell they were nearing the epicenter of the disturbance.


    Maelor glanced at him occasionally, acknowledging Taron’s quiet focus. The air felt dense with tension, and even the seasoned leader appreciated having someone so in tune with nature at his side.


    "The creatures here aren’t following their usual patterns," Taron said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "They’re moving in erratic paths, almost as if they’re confused—or being forced."


    Maelor raised an eyebrow, glancing at Taron with a flicker of approval in his gaze. For someone so young and still finding his footing, Taron had a sharp eye for detail.


    "Good observation, Taron," Maelor said, his voice carrying a tone of quiet respect. "Most wouldn’t have noticed that until it was too late."


    Taron nodded slightly, his expression serious, though there was a hint of surprise in his eyes at the compliment.


    Ignis, lounging nearby with a half-smile, rolled his eyes. "Well, well. The kid’s got brains too. Next thing you know, he’ll be leading this little mission."


    Maelor shot Ignis a look. "Watch it, Ignis. You could learn a thing or two from him."


    Ignis raised his hands in mock surrender, a grin on his face. "Alright, alright, point taken."


    Zephyr’s brow furrowed. "That could mean whatever’s controlling them is nearby. We need to be ready for anything."


    Aria exchanged a glance with Taron, her expression serious. "If this man, Varyk, is involved, this could get ugly fast."


    Maelor held up a fist, signaling for them to stop. The air around them thickened with a strange energy, and all of them could feel it now—the disruption in the natural order, the twisted flow of magic coursing through the area.


    "This is it," Maelor murmured. "We’re close."


    They huddled together, discussing their next move in hushed voices. Ignis adjusted his gear, preparing for a fight, while Riven flexed his hands, the faint glow of his blood magic already starting to gather at his fingertips.


    "We go in quiet," Maelor said, his tone low but commanding. "No unnecessary noise. We need to locate the artifact and disable it before it does any more damage."


    Aria nodded in agreement. "We can’t risk drawing attention. If the Nocturnals are close, they’ll be expecting us."


    With a final nod, Maelor led the team forward, stepping carefully through the dense forest. The strange aura surrounding them grew stronger with every step, and soon, the faint glow of the artifact came into view through the trees—a pulsing, eerie light that seemed to warp the very air around it.


    This was the source of the disturbance.


    And they were about to face whatever was protecting it.