Chapter One: The Boy Who Shouldn't Exist
High in the jagged peaks of Aether's Reach, where clouds kissed mountaintops and silence ruled like a god, the wind whispered of change. Monks in crimson robes moved silently across the stone courtyards of the Solara Monastery, their presence a flicker among the ancient pillars. From above, the sky looked endless. From below, the earth felt forgotten. But within these sacred walls, something long dormant was beginning to stir.
Kael Virel stood alone at the edge of the great cliff that overlooked the valley below, where mist drifted between mountains like restless spirits. Seventeen years old, lean but strong, he had the restless energy of someone who had never quite belonged. His golden hair was tousled by the cold wind, his cloak fluttering like a flame. But it was his eyes that unsettled people most. One gold, one black. As if the heavens and the void had made a home in him.
The monastery bell tolled behind him, deep and final. The time had come.
Kael turned and walked toward the central platform, where the Resonance Ritual was about to begin. Around the circle, the Masters waited, cloaked in the colors of their awakened bloodlines—the Crimson Flame, the Verdant Earth, the Azure Waters, and the Silver Sky. Each bore marks of their power: glowing veins, elemental sigils etched into skin, hair that shimmered with energy. They had once been warriors, now teachers, passing on their strength through tradition.
And today, Kael would discover which bloodline called to him—if any.
"You walk like a ghost, Virel," muttered one of the other initiates, a boy named Bren, his skin marked with flame tattoos that had already begun to awaken. "Bet you don't resonate at all."
Kael ignored him. He'd learned long ago that words were easier to endure than fists. Though if he was honest, today he felt more ghost than boy.
Master Tyron stood at the center of the ritual circle, tall and sharp-eyed, his silver beard braided into twin cords. "Step forward, Kael Virel," he intoned.
Kael obeyed, stepping into the ancient symbol carved into the marble floor. The platform glowed faintly, pulsing with energy as if it could sense the soul upon it. He knelt and pressed his palm to the center glyph.
Nothing happened.
The silence stretched. Whispers rippled through the gathered monks and initiates.
"No aura?"
"That's not right..."
"Is he a Null?"
Kael gritted his teeth. A Null. The worst fate. No resonance. No power. An empty vessel.
Then the wind screamed.
A crack tore through the stone beneath his hand, black lightning lancing out in jagged threads. The air thickened, pressure building as if the mountain itself were holding its breath. Light flared—but not red, green, blue, or white.
Gold and black.
Kael's body convulsed. Energy surged through his veins, burning and freezing all at once. His spine arched. His mouth opened in a silent scream. Visions poured into his mind—a battlefield soaked in blood, a tower crumbling into dust, a woman made of shadow and stars whispering his name.
Then everything exploded.
A shockwave burst from the platform, throwing the Masters back, ripping through the courtyard, shattering windows and sending birds fleeing into the sky. The mountains echoed with the roar of ancient power. When the light faded, Kael hovered above the ground, eyes blazing—both gold and black now, like twin eclipses.
The glyphs on the floor had changed. A new symbol burned there, foreign and terrible.
Master Tyron staggered to his feet. "It cannot be. This bloodline was extinguished."
"Eclipse," whispered another. "The Eclipse Gene."
Panic swept the crowd. Some bowed. Others fled.
Kael collapsed, unconscious.
When he awoke, the room was dark.
Stone walls. A flickering candle. A scent of herbs and ink. He tried to move, but pain knifed through his limbs. It felt like his bones were being reformed, his muscles pulled into place by unseen hands.
"Do not move too quickly," said a voice.
He turned his head.
A woman sat beside him. Slender, cloaked in white. Her silver hair fell past her waist, and a blindfold covered her eyes. Tattoos of glowing script ran down her arms like rivers of light.
"Who are you?" Kael rasped.
"My name is Eira. I am a Seer. And you... you are the storm that will tear open the world."
Kael frowned. "I'm just a boy. I didn't choose this."
"No one chooses the blood that binds them. But some are chosen by it. The Eclipse Gene is not a gift, Kael. It is a curse wrapped in power."
He sat up slowly, each motion a struggle. "What happened to me?"
"You resonated with a bloodline that no longer exists. One that was eradicated after the War of Balance. You carry both light and dark within you. That makes you a threat to the Order... and to the Lumina Dominion."
Kael's heart thudded. "They're going to come for me, aren't they?"
Eira nodded. "Even now, their blades are being drawn. You must leave this place. Tonight."
He looked down at his hands, which still trembled with leftover power. "Where will I go?"
"To the ruins beneath the world. To the edge of forgotten empires. To the places no light dares reach."
A pause.
"And along the way," she added, her voice softening, "you will learn to become more than a vessel. You will become a force."
Far to the east, beyond mountains and seas, a spire of crystal rose into the clouds.
Within it, Inquisitor Vale knelt before a burning scroll. He read the final words aloud, voice low and filled with fury.
"Eclipse gene detected. Initiate Code Black."
He stood, his golden armor clinking like chains. "Gather the hunters," he told the guards. "Send word to the High Council. The heresy has returned."
His eyes glowed, not with power—but with purpose.
"This boy will not see the next sunrise."
And across the stars, in a realm beyond life, something ancient stirred.
Its eyes opened.
And it smiled.