Chapter 1 — The War
Vale awoke to darkness that wasn't there.
A black shadow stretched across the battlefield like living ink, swallowing light and life alike. The ground beneath him cracked and twisted as if the earth itself were writhing in pain. Human screams pierced the air—dozens, hundreds, each echoing in horrifying layers, each cut short by invisible hands.
He tried to move, but his body wouldn't obey. Limbs felt like stone, muscles locked in place by some unseen force. Whispers slithered into his mind, chilling and fragmented: "Die… fail… bow…" He clutched his head, trying to block them, but they burrowed deeper, repeating over and over.
Vale's eyes widened. Across the battlefield, seven armies moved in unison, their banners torn and flapping wildly. Yet the chaos around them seemed irrelevant compared to the center, where a monstrous figure writhed, chained by strands of black that pulsed with life. Its skin glistened like liquid shadow, and each scream it uttered ripped the air into shards, splintering reality itself.
The figure's tendrils lashed outward, snapping through soldiers like brittle twigs, crushing shields, twisting bones, before retreating back into the void that radiated from its form. Its voice, deep and fractured, slithered directly into Vale's mind:
"Bow… before… the void…"
Vale's chest constricted. A cold, invisible force seeped into him, sliding beneath his skin, settling in his chest. Panic rose, but his body refused to respond. He tried to scream, to move, to resist—but it was useless.
From the edges of the battlefield, seven figures emerged. Their presence was impossibly bright, radiating raw, elemental power. Flames erupted from one, water surged from another, the earth cracked beneath the third, winds tore the air apart, light blinded the eyes, shadows crept like living knives, and spectral beasts roared in perfect harmony.
They formed a circle around the monstrous shadow, ancient runes lighting the ground beneath their feet like the heartbeat of the world. The whispers in Vale's mind rose to a crescendo, frantic and desperate, trying to claw him into madness.
The chained figure's scream became a chorus of agony and rage, echoing through Vale's mind. The battlefield itself seemed alive, reacting to its pain, as if the earth were bleeding memories of a war long past.
A single thought pierced the chaos: Vale felt it touch him, a surge of something ancient and incomprehensible threading through his veins. It was not pain, not fear, but a connection—a mark he could not yet understand. And then, the world folded in on itself, and the scream followed him into the void.
Vale awoke, gasping, sweat running down his face. Shadows clung to his vision, the whispers echoing faintly, and his chest ached as though the nightmare had left behind a weight.
"…just a dream," he whispered. But the darkness lingered.
---
The morning sun barely touched the stone spires of Astra Magic Institute as Vale adjusted his uniform. The sprawling academy was alive with students. Swords clashed, sparks danced, and magical glyphs glowed along the courtyard. Vale's attention, however, was elsewhere.
He loved studying history, particularly the war legends of the Seven Clans. Maybe that explained the nightmare. The images of the battlefield, the chained figure, the seven leaders—it could all have been his imagination fueled by curiosity.
He shook his head, forcing himself to focus.
"Vale! You coming?"
Lio's cheerful voice broke his reverie. The boy's messy hair and easy grin always seemed to contrast Vale's calm demeanor.
"Yeah, coming," Vale said, pocketing his notebook. He stepped onto the main courtyard, where students of all clans practiced magic and combat.
Eyes followed him. Whispers rippled through the crowd. The Aetheris Clan emblem on his uniform—a simple crescent encircling a star—drew attention.
The rumor of dual powers.
Even in hushed tones, students speculated. No one knew the truth, but everyone assumed Aetheris possessed a mysterious, second power. Vale ignored the stares, keeping his focus forward.
---
History class was held in a high-ceilinged hall lined with translucent runes. Professor Lyran entered, gold spectacles glinting in the morning light. Scrolls stacked high in his arms, he cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the restless students.
"Today," he began, "we revisit one of the greatest events in our known history: the First War of the Seven Clans, twenty years past. What happened then shaped the world you live in today."
Vale's chest tightened. The nightmare—the battlefield—the screaming—everything he saw flashed in his mind. He forced himself to calm down. Legends were meant to feel larger than life.
Professor Lyran projected an illusion above the desks. Seven figures, each radiating their respective clan's power, fought together against a monstrous shadow, tendrils of void curling around them like living smoke. Students gasped. Vale's heart pounded. It was exactly as he had seen in his dream, yet hazy, incomplete, and distant.
"The being you see before you is the Voidsoul Monarch," Lyran continued. "A creature of unimaginable power who nearly ended our world. Seven clans united to seal him into the Obsidian Gloomwell, a prison beyond time and space. To contain him, they forged seven fragments—keys of immense power, each entrusted to one clan."
A hand went up. "Professor, the Aetheris Clan… is it true they have two powers?"
The room froze. Whispers bubbled along the walls. Vale felt a flush of embarrassment.
"A rumor," Lyran said, adjusting his spectacles. "Aetheris is gifted, yes, but no clan has ever truly possessed two powers. Their skill comes from training, strategy, and lineage. Nothing more."
---
After class, Vale walked the academy's stone halls, accompanied by Lio and Varin. Something felt… off.
A subtle vibration hummed under his feet. Shadows stretched strangely along the walls, moving as if alive. Vale stopped mid-step.
"What is it?" Lio asked.
"I… I don't know," Vale replied. A chill ran down his spine. "I just feel… something."
Varin's eyes narrowed. "Something's different about you today."
Vale clenched his fists. The pulse intensified in his chest, quick and heavy, as though something ancient had taken notice.
Before he could process it, a teacher's voice echoed from above.
"Vale Mir," called Master Ciro, a member of the Aetheris Guardian Unit. "I need to speak with you."
Vale's brow furrowed. Being summoned alone was unusual. He followed Ciro through the quiet halls to a secluded courtyard hidden from prying eyes. The sun had dipped low, casting long shadows over the cobblestones.
Ciro's eyes held a weight Vale hadn't seen before. "Vale," he began, "what you experienced today… it's not a coincidence. That pulse, the shadows you felt… it's a sign. You are awakening."
Vale's pulse quickened. "Awakening… what?"
"Every student's power grows with age, usually between seven and nine," Ciro explained. "Before that, children can only manipulate minor spells, nothing more. But you… you are progressing faster. Stronger. Something within you has stirred, something unique. It is not ordinary, and it is not a rumor."
Vale swallowed hard. "You mean… I'm different?"
"Yes," Ciro said, his voice low. "And that means you are ready to explore abilities others can't yet touch. Dungeons, ancient ruins, magical artifacts… all of it will respond to you differently. But you must learn control. Patience. Step by step. You are marked by something ancient, Vale. Something that may define your path."
Vale's mind raced. The pulse in his chest surged again, faint but insistent. The whispers from the nightmare flickered at the edge of his consciousness.
Ciro rested a hand on his shoulder. "I will guide you. But this knowledge… this awakening… it must remain between us. For now, you are special, yes—but that comes with responsibility."
Vale nodded, a mixture of awe and unease settling in him. Whatever lay ahead, he knew one thing: nothing in his life would ever feel ordinary again.
Ciro stepped back, his expression steady but heavy with meaning.
"You are marked by something ancient, Vale. Something that may define your path. For now, keep this between us."
Vale nodded, still trying to steady his breath.
"I… understand."
"Good. Now return to class. Act normal. No one must suspect anything yet."
The moment Vale stepped out of the secluded courtyard, sunlight hit his eyes again, and the noise of the academy returned—voices, footsteps, bursts of magic. Everything felt normal, but nothing felt the same.
His chest still held that faint pulse.
That strange, rhythmic thrum.
As he walked toward his next lecture, Lio and Varin caught up to him.
"What did Ciro want?" Lio asked immediately.
"Yeah," Varin added, eyes narrowed. "You look like you saw a ghost."
Vale forced a small laugh.
"Nothing serious. Just… something about improving my discipline."
Varin smirked. "You? Discipline? Impossible."
Lio nudged Vale. "Come on, we're going to be late for Arcane Biology."
They hurried into the lecture hall. Professor Serya—a strict woman with silver hair tied in a knot—had already begun explaining magical lifeforms. Vale tried to listen, but his thoughts drifted back to Ciro's words.
Marked by something ancient.
He stared at his own hand, wondering if it looked different… felt different.
But it was just a hand.
Or maybe it wasn't anymore.
Lunch Break
By midday, Vale found himself in the academy's open courtyard again. Students lounged under trees, some floating glyphs above their notebooks, others sparring in the training ring.
Then a voice cut through the noise.
"Well, well. If it isn't Aetheris' little prodigy."
Dren Wolvane approached—tall, sharp-featured, carrying the emblem of the Terragale Clan. His group followed behind him, smirking.
"Did you hear?" Dren said loudly. "Rumors say Vale's awakening early. Pretty rare. Pretty dangerous. Pretty… suspicious."
Lio stepped forward defensively. "Back off, Dren."
Varin crossed his arms. "You're just jealous his spells don't explode in his face."
Dren glared. "I'm watching you, Vale. People like you don't stay hidden for long."
He turned away, his group following like shadows.
Vale frowned. Threat? Warning?
Or… something else?
Either way, the day continued. Spell practice, rune memorization, combat drills. Vale performed well—but not too well. He stayed quiet. Calm. Careful.
Ciro's warning echoed in his mind.
The End of the School Day
As the academy bell rang, students poured out of the gates in waves. The sun dipped low, bathing Astra in orange light.
Lio clapped Vale on the shoulder.
"See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Vale answered. "See you."
Varin gave a nod. "Don't think too much."
But Vale already was.
Vale's home stood on the quieter side of Astra—stone walls, a slanted roof, herbs hanging by the door. Warm light glowed from the windows.
His mother opened the door before he even touched it.
"There you are!" she said, brushing dust from his uniform. "You look exhausted. Bad day?"
"No, just… long." Vale managed a smile.
His father sat by the kitchen table, reading a scroll. He looked up.
"Training hard?"
Vale hesitated.
"…Something like that."
They ate together—simple food, warm conversation. Vale didn't tell them anything. He didn't want to worry them. Not yet.
After dinner, his mother ruffled his hair.
"You're growing stronger every day. We're proud of you."
The words hit him harder than she knew.
Night Vale's Room
Vale closed the door to his room and sat on his bed. Moonlight filtered through the window, laying silver patterns on the floor.
He opened his notebook—the same one he carried everywhere. His handwriting was steady at first, but slowly grew uneven.
Nightmare.
Voidsoul.
The seven leaders.
The pulse.
The whispers.
He touched his chest.
It pulsed again—soft, like a distant heartbeat.
"Marked by something ancient…"
He didn't know whether to be afraid or curious.
Maybe both.
He lay back, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of everything.
The world felt bigger tonight.
Darker.
And somehow… closer.
Vale's eyes slowly closed
Above the House Unseen Watchers
Across the rooftops of Astra, where shadows moved in silence, two figures materialized from the darkness—distorted, hooded, their forms shifting like vapor.
One crouched, gazing through Vale's window.
"He felt it today," the first whispered, voice thin and sharp.
"He reacted to the Monarch's echo."
The second tilted its head. "Then the prophecy stirs earlier than expected."
"Should we report?"
"Not yet. Not until he awakens fully."
They melted back into the rooftop, shadows consuming them as if they never existed.
Vale slept peacefully, unaware.
But the world had already begun to move around him.
And the darkness knew his name.