Eliar's eyelids fluttered open, the weight of his battered body holding him down like chains. The pain in his ribs was sharp, but dulled by the warmth of healing potions administered while he was unconscious. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar—polished stone with flickering magical torches lining the walls.
He blinked, trying to remember where he was.
"Don't move," a gentle voice warned. "Your wounds haven't fully healed."
Eliar turned his head slowly. Selene sat beside him, a few strands of her usually pristine silver hair messy, eyes tired but focused. She wore battle-worn armor, faint burns and scratches on the sleeves. Her presence sparked a flicker of relief in his chest.
"You're safe..." he whispered, throat dry.
She nodded, her expression hard to read. "You idiot. You charged into a fortress led by one of the top three factions alone."
"Not alone," he said, lips curving faintly. "I had Vael'thar."
At the mention of the dragon, the ground trembled slightly.
"I'm here," Vael'thar's deep voice rumbled from the shadowed side of the room. The dragon was in his humanoid form—tall, broad-shouldered, crimson-scaled with burning gold eyes. His arms were folded, but his posture remained guarded.
"He's been watching you like a mother hawk," Selene added dryly. "Said no one touches you without permission. Terrified the healers."
Eliar sat up slowly, every muscle aching. "How long was I out?"
"Three days," Selene said. "You nearly died fighting the Enforcers of the Crimson Veil. Whatever madness drove you into that fortress... I won't ask. But I do want answers."
Eliar met her gaze, memories of Aerion, the portal realm, the shadow, and the battle flickering through his mind.
"I found something. Someone. He said I was late... that something called Genesis has already begun."
Selene narrowed her eyes. "Genesis?"
Vael'thar's voice deepened, more cautious now. "You heard that word from the man who saved you from the shadow?"
Eliar nodded.
Vael'thar's face turned unreadable. "That... is not a name to be spoken lightly."
"You know something?" Eliar asked sharply.
"I've heard whispers—long ago. In the time before I was sealed in that realm, Genesis was considered a myth. A force... a concept... or a being. No one knew. But the legends said its return would bring an end to the established order."
Eliar clenched his fists. "Then we don't have time."
Selene hesitated. "You're talking about ancient threats and lost histories while you can barely stand. I know you're strong, Eliar, but you're reckless."
"I had to find you."
The suddenness of the admission made both Vael'thar and Selene glance toward him. Eliar continued, voice firm.
"I wasn't going to lose you. Not again. I'll fight the entire world if I have to."
Selene looked away, but not before he noticed the faint blush on her cheeks.
Before another word could be exchanged, the doors to the chamber burst open. A cloaked messenger entered, face pale with panic.
"Lord Eliar... it's urgent. A message has arrived from the Academy. Headmaster Roran requests your immediate presence. A... phenomenon has occurred."
"Phenomenon?" Vael'thar asked.
The messenger swallowed. "A book in the Vault of Forgotten Flames started glowing. It bears the Thorne crest... and the name Aerion Thorne."
Time stood still.
Eliar's heart thudded.
Selene whispered, "Thorne...? That's your name."
"But... Aerion never told me," Eliar said under his breath. "He never revealed..."
The messenger added shakily, "The book showed an image. A painted portrait. It's unmistakably the man seen in the portal realm—the one who saved you. The Academy is in chaos. They think you might be connected."
Eliar stood slowly, still weak, but a storm burning in his chest.
"My ancestor…"
Vael'thar's gaze sharpened.
Selene rose beside him. "Then it's time we get answers."
Outside, clouds gathered over the horizon. Magic twisted unnaturally in the air. And far away, beyond kingdoms and empires, in a dark chamber where light dared not enter—someone watched Eliar's every move through a glass mirror.
The man's lips curled into a smirk.
"So, the heir of the lost Thorne line finally stirs. The game begins anew."
And then the mirror cracked.