The wind hummed with early spring's breath, fluttering through the open windows of the Nightveil home. Morning light spilled into the room, bathing the wooden floors in gold. Birds chirped in rhythm, and somewhere in the distance, Lyra's laughter rang like chimes dancing in the breeze.
Aeron sat alone near the hearth, his tiny frame cross-legged and still. His dark hair fell just above his eyes, and his expression—far too thoughtful for a child of barely two—was locked in concentration.
The world was quiet to others.
But not to him.
To Aeron, it pulsed.
Mana—soft, warm, ever-flowing—filled every corner of existence. It glowed faintly like candlelight in his mind's eye, weaving through walls, people, and even the soil beneath his feet.
He had spent nearly two years learning its rhythm.
Two years of pretending.
Two years of watching.
Of patience.
He understood now that mana wasn't just power—it was alive. Like an ocean with currents and moods. And if one did not respect it, it simply slipped away.
Over time, Aeron learned its ways.
The subtle signs when it gathered.
The difference in temperature when someone nearby used magic.
The resonance of spells cast by traveling mages who passed through Elaren, thinking no one noticed the faint ripples they left behind.
> "But it's not enough to feel it," he thought. "I need to make it mine."
That… was where the problem began.
He had tried.
Many times.
At first with intent—reaching out mentally, inviting threads to his palm.
Then physically—slow movements, breathing patterns, symbolic gestures.
He had even experimented with sound, humming softly and watching how the air responded.
But nothing stayed.
Nothing stuck.
It was like trying to catch moonlight in his hands.
And now… something inside was stirring.
A pressure. A quiet hum in the core of his being.
It had begun last night.
A sudden warmth in his chest that hadn't faded. Not pain. Not fear. Just… anticipation.
> "It's almost time," he whispered inwardly. "My awakening."
—
Lyra peeked into the room, her braided hair bouncing.
"Hey, little scholar," she grinned. "Still meditating? You're gonna turn into a tree one day."
Aeron blinked up at her with a slight pout.
> "If you knew how close I am, you'd be panicking."
She came over and plopped down beside him, pulling out a small wooden flute.
"Wanna hear a song?"
He gave her a slow, knowing nod.
She began to play—a tune of gentle hills and flowing rivers. One their mother used to hum while cooking.
The melody carried mana too, he realized. Not directly, but in how it softened the air, stilled the flow, made it settle.
Music had influence.
> "Everything in this world has a way of speaking to mana…"
The wind gusted slightly, and with it, the fire in the hearth danced higher than usual.
Lyra blinked.
"Woah. That wasn't me."
Aeron's gaze locked onto the flame.
It moved again.
With him.
A flicker of excitement rose in his chest. Was it finally responding?
> "One more time," he thought.
He inhaled deeply.
Focused on the center of his being—where the warmth had been pooling for days.
This time, instead of reaching outward, he turned inward.
Into the well of stillness.
And the world shifted.
—
A pulse rang through his body like a bell in a cathedral.
The fire trembled.
The floor beneath him grew cold for a second. Then—
A breath. A surge.
A snap of invisible tension released.
And his body seized.
He couldn't move. His vision blurred. The warmth in his chest exploded like a second heartbeat, pulsing outward.
"Aeron?" Lyra's voice cracked.
Then he saw it—
Glowing threads of blue and silver, coiling through the air like dancing rivers.
Not just around him.
Inside him.
Wrapping his veins. Flowing through his lungs. His heart.
He was full of mana.
His true awakening had begun.
—
Then it happened.
A voice.
Faint. Cold. Mechanical.
> [Initializing System Interface…]
[User: Aeron Nightveil – Confirmed]
[Status: Mana Awakening: Complete]
[Trait Scan in Progress…]
[Bloodline Authentication: Error… Correction Applied]
[System Bound: Welcome, Child of the Forgotten Flame]
His breath caught.
> "System…?" he whispered inwardly.
The last time he heard such a voice… was at the end of his old life.
But this wasn't that same ancient will.
This was something new. Personal. Connected to him.
A small transparent panel flickered in his vision—text made of starlight, unreadable to others.
[ Name: Aeron Nightveil ]
[ Age: 2 Years ]
[ Race: Human ]
[ Mana Core: Dormant (Awakening) ]
[ Bloodline: Unknown (Suppressed) ]
[ Affinity: ??? ]
[ Skills: None ]
[ System State: Observation Mode Active ]
> "So… it begins."
He slumped slightly, exhausted.
Lyra had rushed to his side, panicked.
"Mom! Dad! Something's wrong with Aeron!"
But he smiled.
Not in pain.
Not in fear.
But in triumph.
—
That night, he slept deeply—more deeply than ever before.
Dreams of flame. Of ash. Of a forgotten battlefield with banners scorched black and a sky split by swords of light.
But when he woke again, everything was still.
Peaceful.
And brighter.
The world seemed… more alive.
The system had activated.
His path had begun.
—
End of Chapter 9