DEADALUS author of AETHERBORN
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CHAPTER 227
🕑 Added 2025-07-04 17:00:13 +0000 UTCThe sky above Aetherhold was a yawning expanse of starlight and silent motion, the rivers of aether gliding far above like glowing threads stitched into the heavens. Thorne stood at the edge of the courtyard, the cool night air brushing past his face like the breath of something ancient.
The marble beneath his boots shimmered faintly, reflecting the cosmos overhead. Behind him, the towering spires of Aetherhold glowed gently in hues of silver, amethyst, and blue, soft pulses of wardlight beating like a quiet heart.
He’d returned over an hour ago, but his thoughts hadn’t followed him.
That darkling’s voice still echoed behind his eyes. “You’ve awakened it.”
The vambrace. Its promise. Its price.
He stared at his gloved hand, flexing his fingers slowly. He’d walked away from power. Chosen a memory instead.
Ben. Jonah. Darius.
And long before them... Bea.
Would he still make the same decision next time?
The darkling couldn't get out of his mind.
He hadn’t even realized he’d been holding his breath when he exited the stall. It was Brennak’s voice that grounded him again.
"You didn’t pay, did you?" the dwarf had asked immediately, eyes narrow as they walked past the glowing stalls.
When Thorne shook his head, the old merchant let out a satisfied grunt.
“Good lad. You never pay the darklings. Not with what they ask for.”
He’d spat on the ground like it offended him.
“They don’t take coin. They want… other things. Memories, names, feelings. Stories no one else knows. Gives me the damned shivers. Don’t know what they do with ‘em. Don’t want to.”
Thorne hadn’t replied. He didn’t know how to explain the weight that lingered on his chest, like the vambrace was still watching him from its box, disappointed.
“Ooof. Gods, stars, and spheres...”
Thorne collided into something soft and muttering.
Elias.
The elf looked exhausted and disheveled, his tunic askew, his usually bright hair a frazzled halo of stress.
“There you are,” Elias said, spotting Thorne like a drowning man spotting shore. “Please tell me dinner’s still happening. I need something fried and probably dangerous.”
Thorne blinked. “Rough day?”
Elias groaned and threw his hands in the air. “All day. All day I’ve been trying to get a message out to my grandmother. You’d think the most prestigious magical institution on the world would have figured out how to send a simple letter.”
Thorne smirked. “Don’t they have enchanted mirrors and messenger ravens and... whatever those floating crystal things were?”
“Yes!” Elias snapped. “If your family also happens to own a crystal relay tower, or a bonded spell mirror, or a dragonling courier.”
He slumped against a nearby pillar, looking utterly betrayed by the concept of magical communication.
“My tribe doesn’t have magical devices. We have runners. People. Who run. Physically. With messages. Through forests.”
Thorne leaned beside him. “Sounds inconvenient.”
“Thank you for your empathy.” Elias groaned dramatically. “I’m starving, tired, and I haven’t heard from my family in over a week.”
He paused, peeking at Thorne sideways. “What about you? You’ve got that look again. That ‘I might’ve committed a war crime, but I’m not ready to talk about it’ look.”
Thorne gave him a dry smile.
“Just thinking.”
“Dangerous pastime.”
They stood there for a beat, the courtyard bathed in quiet starlight. Somewhere far above, a winged silhouette drifted lazily across the sky.
Then Elias straightened with a grunt.
“I’m getting food. Come with me before I collapse and someone finds my withered husk outside the soup station.”
Thorne chuckled and followed. “Fine. But I’m not carrying you if you pass out.”
“That’s what friends are for,” Elias said breezily as they stepped into the castle’s towering hallways, the doors whispering shut behind them.
The Astral Hall was near-empty at this hour, lit by a kaleidoscope of starlight spilling in through the glass-paneled ceiling. The river of aether above gleamed like a living ribbon, reflecting in the silverware and the glass-carved chandeliers hanging overhead.
The air buzzed with quiet magic, hushed conversation bouncing from distant balconies, the gentle clink of utensils and the occasional flutter of floating trays delivering late-night snacks to the few students scattered across the massive hall.
Most of the long banquet tables were empty, save for the occasional student hunched over a scroll or sipping tea by candlelight. Then Thorne spotted her, Rowenna, sitting alone at the far end of one table, her silver-stitched Aegis uniform immaculate, a bowl of something steaming untouched before her.
She was reading a thick book held upright with one gloved hand, her other absentmindedly swirling a spoon through her food. The glow from the nearest chandelier etched faint shadows beneath her eyes.
Thorne slowed.
“There’s Rowenna,” he said casually. “We should go say hi.”
Elias blinked at him, eyebrows lifting.
“The knight-girl who looks like she’s memorizing siege tactics for fun?”
“That’s the one.”
“She doesn’t look particularly... huggy.”
“Try not to hug her, then.”
Thorne gave him a nudge and walked with him toward the table. As they approached, Rowenna looked up, her steel-grey eyes narrowing slightly.
“Rowenna,” Thorne greeted with a nod. “This is Elias. He’s with aegis as well. Thought you two should meet.”
Rowenna’s gaze flicked from Thorne to Elias. Her expression cooled noticeably.
“Elf.”
The word was clipped. Formal. Icy.
Elias blinked, momentarily thrown, but he recovered quickly with a crooked grin.
“Indeed I am. Sparkly ears and all.” He gave a small mock bow. “But don’t worry, I’m not with the Thal Dorei. I’m Greenleaf. Minor clan. Independent. We don’t get the empire's newsletters.”
Rowenna’s lips thinned. She set her spoon down with more force than necessary.
“You’re still elven. You still benefitted from what your people built. The war may be cold now, but the blood hasn’t dried.”
Thorne frowned. “Rowenna...”
“It’s fine,” Elias interrupted cheerfully, though a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. “Some people see a leaf and assume it grew from a poisoned tree. Happens all the time.”
“Spare me the poetry,” Rowenna muttered, folding the corner of her page with surgical precision.
Elias turned to Thorne with mock-seriousness. “Do you think if I sit far enough down the table, she’ll stop trying to murder me with eye contact?”
“Unlikely,” Thorne replied, struggling not to smile.
Rowenna exhaled sharply through her nose.
“If you’re both staying, sit. Just… don’t expect me to engage in pointless banter.”
“So no jokes about elven soup etiquette?”
Rowenna’s jaw clenched.
“You’re lucky I don’t challenge you to a duel,” she said, eyes never leaving her book.
“I’m flattered. Most people wait at least a day before threatening my life.”
Thorne sat across from her, trying not to smirk. Elias slid in beside him, grinning like he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
Tension still hung in the air, but beneath it was something else. A strange, grudging rhythm. Like the flint and steel of two temperaments destined to spark.
Thorne watched them both, and for a moment, despite everything, he felt like things were starting to fall into place.
Just maybe.
The moment they sat, the long table in front of them shimmered and with a faint pop of displaced air, several platters blinked into existence. Roast meats, soft breads, pearled grains swimming in rich gravies, and desserts stacked high with powdered sugar appeared with polite magical efficiency.
Elias made a reverent sound in his throat.
“Thank the Aether,” he breathed, already reaching for a steaming roll. “If I had to eat another cafeteria cracker-bar I was going to start chewing spell parchment.”
Thorne gave him a dry look but took a plate for himself. “That’s one way to absorb knowledge.”
Elias snorted, mouth already full.
Across from them, Rowenna picked up her spoon again but didn’t eat, she just glared over it, particularly at Elias, as though his enjoyment offended her very existence.
“So,” Elias said between bites, gesturing with a bit of roast root, “what did you get up to today, Mr. Mysterious-and-Overdressed?”
Thorne chewed for a moment before replying.
“Spent most of the day replying to the sponsorship offers.”
Rowenna’s eyes sharpened immediately, narrowing with quiet interest. She didn’t say anything, but the silence from her side of the table became… dense.
Thorne continued, unfazed. “Then I had to head back to Evermist. Forgot a few things.”
Elias blinked, swallowing. “Forgot? I thought we bought everything you needed yesterday.”
Thorne shrugged.
“Apparently not.”
Elias leaned in slightly, eyes narrowing as he scanned him. “You’re wearing something new.”
He pointed with a flour-dusted finger.
“The gloves. You didn’t have those before.”
Thorne tilted his head and raised his hand lazily. “Good eye.”
Elias set down his bread. “Do they do something cool, or are they just, you know... mysterious and expensive?”
Thorne allowed himself a touch of smugness.
“Spell-stitch woven. Fangthread waring. When I successfully parry or block with a weapon, the gloves can unleash a retaliatory strike of spectral tendrils.”
Elias gawked. “That’s... absurdly cool.” Then, narrowing his eyes, “I need to start saving. Or stealing. Or both.”
Rowenna made a quiet scoffing sound. “Magical trinkets don’t make a mage.”
Elias glanced at her. “Maybe not, but they make life more fun.”
Rowenna gave him a look like she wasn’t sure if she should be insulted or confused. Then she returned to her soup, posture straight as a lance.
Thorne watched the interaction with amusement.
“You don’t like magical gear?” he asked.
“I didn’t say that,” she replied flatly. “I just don’t need it to do my job.”
“What is your job, exactly?” Elias asked, grinning. “Looking stern at soup?”
Rowenna didn’t look up. “Keeping people like you alive.”
Elias looked scandalized. “Thorne, did she just threaten me and promise to protect me in the same sentence?”
“She’s a multitasker,” Thorne said.
Then, as Elias opened his mouth to fire back, a voice, soft and breathy, spoke directly next to Thorne’s ear.
“Did you hear? She turned him down again. That’s the third time this week.”
He jumped, turning sharply. There was no one there.
Elias blinked. “Was that you?”
“No,” Thorne said, eyes scanning the room.
Another whisper, this time near Rowenna:
“She’s only interested in that third-year from Zephyrus. But don’t tell anyone I said that.”
Elias whirled around in his seat, hands up. “Okay, what in the star-blasted hells is happening right now?”
Rowenna let out a long, long sigh and set her spoon down with a clink.
“It’s the Hall.”
“The Hall?” Elias repeated.
“The Astral Hall. It listens.”
She gestured vaguely upward, toward the towering ceiling and the shimmering glass above.
“It sometimes... redirects conversations from around the room. Something to do with resonance echoes and ambient intention.”
“You’re kidding.”
“I am not. I’ve been trying to read through half of Strategic Aetheric Theory: Volume II, and it keeps bombarding me with gossip and dinner confessions.”
Thorne looked up toward one of the distant balconies where two girls were seated at the edge, whispering quickly over mugs of something warm. One of them glanced down and saw them staring.
Her eyes widened.
They both immediately hunched over and pretended to be extremely invested in their meal.
Elias looked back at Thorne.
“I think I’m going to love this school.”
Rowenna groaned and returned to her book like it was her last defense against idiocy.
Thorne pulled the scroll from his satchel and unfurled it across the table, brushing aside a slice of berry tart that tried to reappear on his plate.
“So,” he said, tapping the parchment, “we have to choose three electives. I’ve narrowed mine down to a few... but I’m still unsure.”
Elias leaned over, eyes scanning the list. “Alright, lay it on us.”
“Battle Magic. Theory of Magical Constructs. And... I’m still torn on the third.”
Rowenna looked up from her book with a flicker of approval. “Battle Magic is the only practical option. The rest are theory fluff or glorified gardening.”
“I’ll be sure to tell the gardening club you said that,” Elias replied brightly. “They’ll mourn your absence.” He turned to Thorne. “You’re picking Constructs? I was thinking about that too.”
Rowenna made a skeptical noise. “You? Constructs?”
“I’m full of surprises,” Elias said, winking. “And maybe I want to build something cool. Or dangerous. Possibly both.”
Thorne grinned. “So, we’re all picking Constructs then?”
Rowenna gave a short nod. “Agreed. It’s foundational. Most wards and tools are based on construct theory. It’s the only useful theoretical course they offer.”
“And here I thought you didn’t believe in ‘fluff’,” Elias muttered.
She ignored him.
Thorne tilted his head toward her. “Battle Magic too?”
“Obviously.”
“Figures.”
“She’s got the spirit. I am surprised she isn’t in Ignis!” Elias then raised a hand. “I’m going to pass on hurling myself into fireballs, thanks. I’m thinking Magical Beasts and Aether Creatures.”
Rowenna looked genuinely surprised. “Really?”
“Yes?” Elias replied. “Weirdly, I like not dying. And if I do have to die, I’d rather it be from something majestic like a flying murder-wolf, not getting exploded in Spell Arena One.” He paused. “Also, I’m amazing with animals.”
“You’re delusional with animals,” Rowenna corrected.
Elias smiled proudly. “Same thing.”
Thorne glanced back at the scroll. “And your third?”
Elias made a thoughtful hum as he reached for another pastry. “Magical Flora and Herbology. Potions, reagents, roots with names like bloodroot and whispervine... might help me not explode during Alchemy.”
Rowenna rolled her eyes. “You’re picking electives based on snacks.”
“Hey, some of those herbs smell delicious,” Elias said defensively. “And one of them has minor sedative properties. I’m just planning ahead.”
Thorne turned his gaze to Rowenna.
“Your third?”
She answered without hesitation.
“The Ethics of Power and Magical Warfare.”
Elias blinked. “That’s... heavy.”
“Good,” she said evenly. “It should be.” Then, almost too quietly, “someone in our generation should learn when not to burn cities down.”
The table fell quiet for a moment.
Elias glanced at Thorne, but the other boy was studying Rowenna with a faint crease between his brows.
Thorne finally folded the scroll again and tucked it back into his satchel.
“Alright,” he said, voice light again. “Constructs together. Me and Rowenna in Battle Magic. Elias and beasts. And me as the last elective, I will go for The Fundamentals of Spell Resonance. Everyone wins. I think.”
“Except the beasts,” Elias added. “But we’ll cross that bridge when one tries to eat me.”
Comments
Silver Beard
I suspect Thorne's about to discover than the Core he sold for a heavy purse would have been perfect for a Golem Heart.
Prokopis Manolis
He didn't pick any. He wont claim to be of noble lineage. The king of Caledris already knows that he isn't a noble, so the information would have spread.
Silver Beard
What did he end up choosing for his House Crest? To fulfill his 'formal' wear? Thought you agreed he needed to pick something new; that using Uncle's from Alvar would be too dangerous.
