Darkness came first.
Then the distant sound of weeping. Not her own, but others'. Dozens. Hundreds. Echoing in the folds of memory.
Emilia Serrano remembered. The scorched hospital tent. The blood on her hands—still warm. The cries for help all around her. The moment she saw the young boy trembling beneath a collapsed beam. She had gone to him, not hesitating. She had just reached him when the explosion tore the world apart.
No fear. Only instinct. She had given herself in the end, as she always had in life.
But now—
There was light.
Warm. Golden. Gentle like a sunrise over a quiet sea.
She opened her eyes to a vast open plain under a pale pink sky. Wildflowers danced in the breeze, stretching as far as the eye could see. Above, birds with crystalline wings circled in lazy arcs. The air was cool and soft, and somewhere nearby, a stream hummed a lullaby.
She sat up slowly.
Her body… felt strange. Not wrong. Just… different.
Her skin glowed with a soft olive hue, flawless and unmarked by years of toil. Her once-short brown hair had grown long and silver at the ends, cascading down her back in waves. Her hands were slender, but still bore the calluses of service. Her robes shimmered with layers of pearl and sky-blue silk, patterned with delicate feathers and flowing script that moved like breath.
Her reflection in the water nearby caught her by surprise. Her eyes—once earthy brown—were now a luminous gold, gentle and watchful. Wings, small and translucent like those of a dragonfly, rested folded on her back.
She had become an Aetherial—a race touched by celestial magic, known for their healing abilities, clarity of mind, and emotional resonance. Rare, ethereal, and deeply connected to the flow of divine essence.
It fit her. Somehow.
A gentle voice called from nearby.
"Easy, sister. Don't rush your strength."
She turned to see a robed woman with kind eyes and silver hair, leaning on a carved staff.
"You appeared at the temple ruins. Surrounded by light. The Elders believe it's a sign."
Emilia tried to speak of the divine chessboard, of the voice that spoke of proxies and sins and virtues. But the moment the thought formed, her lips refused to move. Her throat tightened. A warm shimmer of divine energy rippled across her collarbone, quieting the words.
She frowned.
"I… I'm just a traveller," she said instead, lowering her gaze.
The woman smiled knowingly and extended her hand. "Then walk with me, humble one."
As they moved toward a village nestled at the foot of a crystal ridge, Emilia's thoughts swirled.
Her gift had awakened with her: Sanctum Veil—a power to create protective barriers that absorbed pain, fear, and harm from those within. But it had a twist: for every life she protected, a measure of the burden came to her. Humility and pride are bound in service.
She had saved others before. Now, she would do it again, but in a world that pulsed with magic and gods.
She wasn't here to conquer or manipulate.
But she was not naïve either.
The gods had chosen her for a reason.
And though she still walked softly, she would leave deep footprints.
Emilia Serrano had died in service to others.
Now she would live—truly live—in the service of something greater.
And somewhere deep inside her, behind the gentleness, a fire stirred.
She would make her presence in Auron not through might, but through legacy.
Quietly.
Powerfully.
Unforgettably.