The torches flickered dimly against the cold stone walls of the underground chamber. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, as if they, too, listened in silence. The weight of ancient history sat thick in the air.
Aeron sat cross-legged across from Segirus, his mind still burning with frustration from his countless failures in understanding the runes. Each attempt had ended in collapse—reality twisting in ways he couldn't control, power slipping from his grasp like sand through his fingers.
Yet Segirus wielded them with ease.
How?
How could this old man command something that had been erased from history itself?
Aeron clenched his fists. He had asked about the runes before. He had pushed himself into sleepless nights trying to decipher even a fraction of their meaning. But tonight, he wouldn't ask about the runes.
Tonight, he would demand the truth.
He met Segirus's steady gaze and leaned forward.
"Who are you?" Aeron's voice cut through the silence, sharp and unwavering.
Segirus's expression didn't shift immediately. His eyes, old and tired, held something deeper—something ancient. He was quiet for a long moment, as if debating whether to answer.
Aeron pushed further. "You knew about the runes before I even mentioned them. You don't just understand them—you command them. But how? The gods erased them from history, and yet… here you are, speaking as if you were there. So who are you, really?"
The silence stretched between them like a drawn blade. Then, at last, Segirus exhaled slowly and spoke.
"I was wondering when you'd ask."
Aeron narrowed his eyes.
Segirus leaned back against the stone wall, staring at the ceiling as if looking beyond it—beyond time itself. And then, he told his story.
---
The Lost Bloodline: The Erasure of the Runeborn
"I am the last of the Runeborn."
Aeron stilled. "…Runeborn?"
Segirus nodded. His voice was steady, but there was something buried beneath it—something old, something heavy.
"We were the first to wield the runes—the only ones who truly understood them. Before magic was reduced to spells and incantations, before divine blessings and arcane rituals, there were only the runes. They were not tools. They were laws. Fundamental truths woven into the fabric of existence."
Aeron's heartbeat quickened.
"My people did not 'cast' magic. We did not 'summon' power. We inscribed reality. With a single rune, we could alter the very rules that governed the world."
Aeron swallowed, his mind struggling to grasp the enormity of what was being said.
Segirus continued, his voice distant, as if recalling something from another lifetime. "I learned my first rune at eight."
Aeron stiffened. Eight?
"By ten, I could reshape water. By twelve, I could command the wind. By fifteen, I had carved my name into fate itself."
The sheer weight of those words pressed against Aeron's mind.
"And that was why the gods feared us."
Aeron clenched his jaw. "So they erased you."
Segirus's expression darkened. "They did worse than that."
"They did not just kill us. They erased us from history."
Aeron felt his stomach tighten.
Segirus's voice dropped lower, heavier. "The Old Gods and the New stood together for the first time in history. They had warred for ages, their domains clashing, their followers slaughtering each other in their names. But there was one thing that terrified them enough to unite: us."
Aeron inhaled sharply. "Why?"
Segirus met his gaze. "Because we were not bound by them."
Aeron blinked.
"Mortals pray to the gods. Mages channel their power through incantations. Divine beings bestow their blessings. But we—the Runeborn—did not ask. We did not plead. We did not borrow."
His fingers traced an invisible symbol on the ground.
"We wrote the laws of the world."
Aeron's chest tightened. "So they destroyed you."
Segirus's fists clenched. "No." He exhaled. "They did worse than that."
---
The Erasure: The Gods' War on the Runeborn
"It began with silence."
Segirus's voice was hollow.
"One day, the names of my ancestors stopped being spoken. The records of our existence vanished. The libraries that held our knowledge burned. Not by fire, but by divine decree—words simply ceased to exist. It was as if history itself had been rewritten."
Aeron shuddered.
"Then came the gods' armies. The celestial warriors. The blessed hunters. Beings woven from the divine fabric of creation itself. They descended upon us like an executioner's blade."
His voice grew bitter. "My father fell first. He carved runes into the sky itself, bending the heavens to his will—and still, they burned him to ash. My mother followed, her final act to inscribe the Rune of Protection onto me."
Segirus opened his tunic slightly, revealing an ancient rune carved into his very flesh. It pulsed faintly, glowing with a light that did not belong to this world.
"This rune saved me, but my siblings, my cousins… they carved their last runes into the air, and then… they were gone."
Aeron swallowed, feeling the weight of unseen ghosts in the room. "How did they kill them?"
Segirus closed his eyes.
"The gods invoked the Highest Runes—runes that no mortal had ever seen, runes that even we, the Runeborn, could not understand."
Aeron's breath caught. "Runes… that even you don't know?"
Segirus nodded grimly. "The gods inscribed them into the very fabric of existence. Runes of Erasure. Runes of Unmaking. They did not kill us in battle. They removed us from existence."
Aeron's hands trembled. "But that's… that's impossible."
Segirus laughed, but there was no joy in it. "And yet, here you sit, knowing nothing of the Runeborn. That is proof enough."
Aeron clenched his fists. "Then why are you still here?"
Segirus exhaled, his fingers tracing the rune on his chest. "Because I inscribed the Rune of Eternity onto myself."
Aeron froze.
Eternity.
A rune that should not exist. A rune that defied time itself.
"This rune anchors me to existence." Segirus's voice was quieter now. "It does not let me die. It does not let me be forgotten. The gods erased my people, but they could not erase me."
Aeron could barely breathe.
One man. One survivor. A walking relic of a war that had been erased.
Finally, Aeron whispered, "Then why teach me?"
Segirus looked at him for a long moment before answering.
"Because the runes were never meant to be forgotten."