The room had grown quiet again.
Lady Agaria still had her hand resting gently atop the boy's head. Her cloudy eyes turned faintly toward Elara, and her tone came soft yet resonant — the kind of voice that felt like it carried centuries.
"This child," she began, "possesses a vast whirlpool of pure light Ether."
The maids standing by the wall froze mid-motion. Even Levan looked up from his plate.
"In the East," the old matriarch continued, "they call it Qi — the life-force, the thread that binds existence together. In those lands, I met monks who trained decades just to sense a spark of it. Yet this boy… he's brimming with it."
She paused, fingers tightening slightly in the boy's hair.
"Among the Western Empires, such abundance is considered a curse. Too much Ether burns the vessel that holds it. I've seen men age decades in months… bodies torn from within by their own light."
Her voice dimmed, her memories dragging the words slower.
"But this boy's Ether — it does not consume him. It shields him."
The serpent stirred faintly on her lap, eyes glinting gold.
Agaria smiled and released the child.
"Go on now, to your mother," she said softly. "You've done well."
The boy bowed, crossing back to Elara's side.Levan exhaled lightly — perhaps the first breath he'd taken since the conversation began.
Agaria, as if nothing of weight had been said, changed tone entirely.
"So," she asked, turning toward Levan, "how fares the weather in this radiant Empire of yours? I always imagined light would make the summers unbearable."
Levan allowed himself a small, polite chuckle.
"It's… tolerable, my lady. Though the storms have grown restless these past seasons."
The meal continued in cautious rhythm until plates were cleared.
When it was over, Elara leaned toward her son.
"Go on, love. Maria will take you to your room."
The boy nodded obediently and followed the head caretaker out.
The Whisper of Serpents
The doors closed behind him.
Silence returned, thicker than before. The faint rattle of china had ceased. Only the breathing of the serpent remained — long, slow, rhythmic.
Agaria's expression shifted. Her voice lowered into a single word.
"Sarah."
The serpent stirred, uncoiling from her lap. Its body swelled again, its head rising level with the chandeliers. Candlelight shimmered off its scales as it spoke, its voice smooth as silk on glass.
"That boy…"
The serpent's tone was neither male nor female — simply ancient.
"He carries something akin to my own gift — the Akasha Eyes, though not in form, in function."
Agaria tilted her head slightly, listening.
"My eyes perceive the flow of Ether," continued the serpent, "the nature of things. I see the way light bends around lies, the threads of power that bind every soul. When the child entered, his Ether reached for mine. It tried to understand me — not through instinct, but through sense. A sixth sense."
The creature's eyes narrowed, golden slits reflecting the table's glow.
"Humans possess five senses to navigate the world. But this boy's Ether acts as a sixth — perceiving not the world as it is, but the nature beneath it. It is why I reacted. For the first time, something looked through me."
The serpent lowered itself, its coils tightening as it bowed its head.
"I apologize for my earlier aggression," it murmured. "But my instincts warned me. That kind of perception should not belong to one so young."
Levan's fingers tensed against the table.
"You said… his Ether reacted to yours?"
"Not reacted," replied Sarah. "Interpreted. It's as though his energy tried to read mine, the same way I read others. A mirror—no, an extension of his consciousness."
Agaria's pale eyes turned toward Levan.
"You said he's four?"
Levan nodded.
"Four years this serpent moon."
"Then we wait," Agaria said simply. "Next year, when he turns five."
The serpent coiled quietly again, its golden eyes flickering faintly.
Narration — The Year of Awakening
Across the lands of Arian, the rhythm of life followed a simple law.
At five years of age, every child awakened their Elemental Ether — the second flame within the soul that defined their path. Some awakened light, some wind, some flame or steel.And at fifteen, the Gaia System revealed itself fully, aligning one's class, skill tree, and destiny.
But in this quiet hall — under the flickering candlelight of a single dinner — something older than Gaia itself stirred.
A child's Ether had already begun to see.
"The sixth sense… that which perceives the unseen," whispered Agaria, her thoughts fading into the hush."If the world truly follows Gaia's will, then this boy was not born by accident."
[End of Chapter 13]