Jack stood beneath the moonlit arch of Auren's sacred grove, his hands trembling.
The silver pool before him shimmered like a mirror, reflecting not just his face—but memories, echoes, fragments of a man he had never met but always felt. Thalon. His father.
Auren had prepared the space carefully.
Lunar stones carved with runes circled the pool, and the mist that rose from the ground carried whispers in an ancient tongue. Jack stepped forward, his heart pounding. He spoke the incantation Auren had taught him—his voice cracking with uncertainty:
"Nal'therai Thalon… etha'mir sol'ena."
("Father Thalon… hear the cry of your son.")
The air grew cold. The wind silenced. And the surface of the pool stilled—then parted.
From its depths rose a figure cloaked in white light, tall and regal, with eyes that seemed to see through centuries. Jack gasped. He didn't need to be told who it was. He knew.
"Why… why did it take so long?" the figure asked, stepping onto the stone platform before Jack. "Why did it take so long for you to find me, my son?"
Jack's throat tightened. "I—I didn't know where to look… I didn't know who I was."
Thalon smiled, a mixture of sorrow and pride etched on his ageless face. "And yet, you came. You heard me. You felt me. That is enough."
Tears welled in Jack's eyes as Thalon embraced him—warm, strong, otherworldly. A weight Jack had carried his entire life seemed to dissolve in that single moment.
"You are of me," Thalon whispered. "But you are more than me. You are ours. Your mother's love cloaked you in humanity to protect you, but your spirit… your spirit was always forged in the stars."
"I'm scared," Jack said, voice barely audible.
"As you should be," Thalon replied gently. "But fear is not your end. It is your beginning."
Then, Thalon stepped back and raised his hands. A silvery light poured from his chest and flowed into Jack's. The energy surged through him like a storm of memory, power, and love. Their souls touched.
The connection wasn't just emotional—it was spiritual, complete. Jack's aura burst into a ring of starlight. Thalon's essence wove into Jack's own, sealing the ancient bond.
They had become one.
Jack fell to his knees, overwhelmed—but whole.
When the light faded and the pool shimmered once more like calm water, Jack stood in silence. He had found his father. And more than that—he had become his father's legacy.
Meanwhile, in the Council Hall of Elders…
Dark marble walls enclosed the tower like a fortress of forgotten truths. The air trembled with tension. The Council of Elders—ancient and cold—sat high on their obsidian thrones.
Isolde entered with fury in her steps and frost in her voice.
"I couldn't find him," she said flatly.
A scoff rang out. "Another failed hunt?" a councilor said, smirking. "This is growing tiresome."
"You mock me now," Isolde said, her voice tightening, "but you won't when I'm finished."
She reached into her robe and threw a cracked crystal vial onto the council's stone table. The shard pulsed with divine energy—raw and unmistakable.
"That energy?" she said. "It's Thalon. He is back. And he's growing stronger with every moment the boy breathes."
The chamber fell into stunned silence.
One of the younger elders leaned forward, his face pale. "You're saying… the prophecy is real?"
"The boy exists," Isolde said. "He walks
Vaelmir. And Thalon walks with him."
The oldest councilor, a brittle figure wrapped in shadowed robes, hissed, "Impossible. The prophecy was broken. The soul of Thalon was shattered."
"No," Isolde growled. "It was delayed.
Masked. But never broken. You refused to believe. I told you then—now I show you. The boy is the sixteenth sun."
The silence became dread.
Since Thalon's fall sixteen hundred years ago, the Council had ruled Vaelmir with an iron fist. They had hunted the faithful. Burned the temples. Denied the Light.
And now, their nightmare had returned.
For the first time in a thousand years, fear gripped the Council of Elders.
"Where is he?" one of them whispered.
"I don't know," Isolde admitted bitterly. "He is cloaked. Protected by Auren, no doubt."
The old man's name sent a fresh wave of unease across the room.
"If the boy connects fully with Thalon, he will have the strength of the gods," another murmured.
"And all we've done—all we've built—will burn," said another.
Isolde nodded. "Then we must prepare. Not for conquest. But for war."