Aethion pov
The morning after the battle was quiet—too quiet. The air hung heavy with mist, and the jungle seemed to hold its breath as if mourning something unseen. Leina awoke beneath the broad leaves that Aethion had used to shelter her through the night. The faint light of dawn painted the forest floor with hues of gold and pale green, and the sound of distant waterfalls mingled with the hum of insects beginning their daily rhythm.
For a moment, she forgot where she was. Then it came rushing back—the fight, the beast, the strange power Aethion had spoken of. She sat up abruptly, eyes darting around until they found him.
He stood a short distance away, wings half-folded, his back to her. The early light caught the edges of his feathers, turning them into rivers of silver. He seemed lost in thought, unmoving, like a statue carved by divine hands. But beneath his stillness, Leina sensed something heavy—sorrow, perhaps, or worry.
"You didn't sleep," she said softly, her voice cutting through the silence.
Aethion turned slowly, his expression unreadable. "I do not need sleep the way humans do," he replied. "But yes, I have been… awake."
She studied him for a moment, then rose to her feet. "You're troubled."
His gaze flicked away toward the trees. "The creature we faced last night was only a scout. Shadows like that do not act alone. It means something darker is moving in this land—something that knows you are here."
Leina felt her stomach twist. "You mean it's after me?"
He nodded. "Your presence has awakened old forces, Leina. You carry a mark of power, though you do not yet see it."
Her brows furrowed. "A mark?"
Aethion stepped closer, his wings folding completely now. "There is something within your soul that was sealed long ago. It sleeps, waiting for the right moment to rise. Last night, when the shadow beast attacked, I felt it stir."
Leina's hand instinctively touched her chest, as though trying to feel the invisible power he spoke of. "But I've never felt anything," she whispered. "I'm just… ordinary."
He gave a faint smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "The most powerful things often sleep in silence until they are needed."
Before she could reply, the ground beneath them trembled—faint at first, then stronger. Birds erupted into the sky, screeching. Leina stumbled, grabbing a nearby tree for balance. "What's happening?"
Aethion's wings flared out. "Something awakens."
The earth split open near the stream, and a burst of blue light shot upward, blinding her. She shielded her face with her arms, feeling heat and energy ripple through the air. Then, as suddenly as it came, the light dimmed—and in its place stood a stone altar, covered in vines and strange glowing symbols.
Leina's breath caught. "What is that?"
"The Altar of Dawnfire," Aethion said gravely. "It was sealed centuries ago by the guardians of the heavens. I did not think it still existed."
He approached it slowly, reverently, as if approaching something sacred. The air around the altar shimmered faintly, pulsing with power. Leina followed cautiously, curiosity battling fear.
"What does it do?" she asked.
Aethion placed a hand over the symbols. "It reveals truth. But it only responds to one chosen by light."
Leina frowned. "Then you should use it."
He shook his head. "It will not answer me. My light is… fallen."
She stared at him, confused, but before she could speak, the altar began to hum softly. Its glow brightened, and a single line of light extended toward her, wrapping gently around her wrist. She gasped. "Aethion—!"
"Do not resist it," he said quickly, though his voice carried both awe and concern. "It recognizes you."
The light lifted her hand, guiding it toward the center of the altar. When her palm touched the stone, warmth spread through her entire body. Her vision blurred, and for an instant, she saw flashes—wings of flame, a crown of light, a battlefield drenched in both glory and sorrow.
Then, a burning pain shot through her wrist. She cried out as a symbol appeared, glowing bright gold before fading into her skin—a mark, delicate yet powerful, shaped like a sun with a single tear at its center.
When the glow faded, the forest was silent once more.
Leina staggered backward, clutching her arm. "What… what just happened?"
Aethion approached, his eyes wide. "You bear the Mark of the Dawnfire. The light of creation itself."
She shook her head, trembling. "I don't understand any of this."
"It means you are more than you believe," he said gently. "You are bound to both light and mortal flesh. You are the bridge between what is divine and what is human."
Leina's heart raced. "So you're saying… I'm like you?"
Aethion's gaze darkened. "No. You are something new—something neither heaven nor earth has seen before. And that is why both will seek you."
She fell silent, the weight of his words pressing down like a storm. A part of her wanted to scream, to deny it all, to run. But another part—stronger, quieter—accepted it. Somewhere deep inside, this truth felt… right.
The mark on her wrist pulsed softly, glowing whenever her heart beat faster. "Will it hurt me?" she asked in a whisper.
"No," Aethion replied. "But it will change you. In time, it will reveal its full strength. You must learn to control it, or it will consume you."
Leina swallowed hard. "Can you teach me?"
He hesitated. "I can guide you. But the power within you belongs to no one but you. To master it, you must face what lies within yourself."
They spent the rest of the morning in silence. Leina tried to steady her breathing, focusing on the mark that now bound her to a destiny she could neither flee nor fully grasp. Aethion watched over her, his expression unreadable, though his mind clearly weighed heavy with thoughts.
As the day waned, they made camp near the stream again. Aethion lit a small flame with a mere touch of his hand, its golden glow reflecting off his wings. Leina sat opposite him, knees drawn close, eyes fixed on the fire.
"You've lived for ages, haven't you?" she asked quietly.
He nodded. "Long enough to see worlds rise and fall."
"Then tell me," she said. "Why did you fall? What did you lose?"
Aethion's jaw tightened. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, softly, "I defied the law of my realm. I chose mercy where there should have been judgment. The heavens do not forgive easily."
Leina's gaze softened. "You saved someone."
He looked up, meeting her eyes. "Yes. And in doing so, I lost my wings of light. What you see now are remnants—shadows of what they once were."
A tear welled in her eye. "That doesn't sound like a sin."
"To the heavens, it was." His tone was steady, but she could hear the ache beneath it.
They sat in silence again, the fire crackling softly between them. The jungle hummed, alive with nocturnal life, yet in that small clearing, it felt as if the world had narrowed to just the two of them—two lost souls bound by fate and light.
Leina looked down at her marked wrist. "If I really am what you say I am, then maybe your fall wasn't a mistake. Maybe it brought you here for a reason."
Aethion's eyes flickered toward her, and for the first time, she saw something tender break through the shadows in them. "Perhaps," he murmured. "Perhaps my fall was the path that led me to you."
The firelight caught his features, softening the sharp lines of his face. And in that moment, Leina felt a strange warmth bloom in her chest—not the heat of power, but of something deeply human. Something she had long forgotten how to feel.
As the night deepened, she lay down beneath the canopy of stars, the mark on her wrist glowing faintly like a small sun. Aethion remained awake, watching over her, his wings half spread.
In the distance, far beyond the jungle, a shadow stirred—a figure cloaked in darkness, its eyes burning red as embers. It had felt the awakening of the Dawnfire. And it smi
led.
For every light that rises, a darkness awakens to meet it.
And so, the true war of balance had begun.