[A Land in Ruins]
In a wasteland scorched by molten earth and boiling water, a man stood over the body of a small boy—no older than three. The child was unconscious, his small body coated in ash and blood. Without thinking, the man scooped him up in one arm and fled the crumbling ruins of the Magma Waterfield.
[Later, in the Village of Flames]
Takashi's journal entry:
"Whoever this kid is, he's… fascinating. Just three years old, but already strange. He says he doesn't remember his parents, but he repeats his own name over and over: Kylonalu.
The clan didn't want me to take him in. They said to hand him over to the Lord of Realm Heart. The human in me refused. No child deserves to be raised like that. But the monster inside me—my darker half—whispered that I could just kill him.
'Destruction follows in his wake,' the Great Sea once warned me.
Even though I'm a member of the Tsukiyari—one of the Pillars of the Village in Flames—this boy isn't one of us. Still… he's unlocked the Vail Sight."[Days Later]
He imitates everything I do. When I train, he mimics me. When I activated the Vail Sight, he touched me—and somehow, he gained it too.
The scientist in me was captivated. This should be impossible. Bloodline sigils are sacred, untransferable. If others found out he could copy them… they'd execute him without hesitation. And maybe that would be the right thing. But I needed to know more.
The others in the clan want nothing to do with him. Their children are forbidden from even speaking to him. So he spends his days alone… I bought him some toys. It's not enough.[One Month Later]
The Vail Sight hasn't disappeared. He hasn't touched me since that first time. He's keeping it—permanently. He's not just a copycat.
He's something… more.
I'm thinking of enrolling him in the Academy.
One of my clanmates confronted me again.
"Kylonalu. That's his name, right?" he sneered. "I don't know how he got Vail Sight, but it doesn't make him one of us. Maybe he's the child of a traitor—or worse, a defect. You should've killed that thing when you had the chance." "Tch." Maybe he was right. That boy's ability feels… unnatural. "Takashi, the clan head wants to speak with you soon," he added. "Leave the disgrace at the manor. Don't shame us any more than you already have."
[Kylonalu's POV]
Dad had to go somewhere with the clan. Nobody inside plays with me anyway…
I went outside to find someone—anyone—to play with. Every kid at the park either ran away or got called by their parents.
All except one.
A girl with black hair, a green shirt, and shorts. She stared at me boldly. "Hey, green-eyed boy!" "Huh?" "Yeah, you. You gonna play or not?" We played for hours. It was the first time anyone my age had talked to me, let alone wanted to be near me."Bye, Shishi," I said as the sky turned purple."Bye, Kyo." I was starving. I ran through the streets until I found a small restaurant. I didn't have money—didn't even understand what money was—but the owner's daughter, Reiko, was kind. We were the same age.
Her father gave me a free meal. My first one outside the manor.
Then I walked back to the Tsukiyari estate
"Dad dad" He yell for Takashi
"I Ain't your dad…"
"What…" Kylonalu Voice went softer
"And you sure as hell ain't my son"
Kylonalu I just started to water and then he ran away to his room but Takashi did not try to follow him The next couple of days were kind of awkward between them Takashi Took it upon himself to teach Kylonalu How to fight using the veil sight And just had to Fight In general
[Months past]
The wind stirred gently in the early morning as the sun cracked the edge of the horizon, painting the sky in soft peach and gold. The Tsukiyari training grounds were quiet—silent, save for the rhythmic thud of small fists striking against a wooden training dummy.
Kylonalu's arms moved with slow, deliberate strikes, his breath even, his expression blank. He was alone, as usual. Each blow was precise, guided by the silent whisper of the Vail Sight, though he never dared to call it his own.
He struck again.
And again.
Thud. Thud.
The dummy wobbled slightly. His knuckles stung, but he didn't stop.
Then, a voice cut through the air, sharp as a thrown shuriken.
"You hit like a snow rabbit."
Kylonalu's breath caught. He turned slowly.
There, standing on the edge of the grounds with the sun behind her like a halo of fire, was a girl around his age. Her hair was jet black, tied in a short, messy ponytail that bounced with her steps. A green training shirt clung to her slim frame, and a pair of brown shorts showed scraped knees and legs used to climbing walls, trees.
She didn't smile. She smirked. Like someone who knew she was better and enjoyed reminding others of it.
"I didn't ask you," Kylonalu muttered, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
"Didn't have to," the girl said, arms folding. "Your punches begged for commentary."
"…Who are you?"
"Hoshi. Hoshi Amaterix." She tilted her chin up slightly, like he was supposed to know the name.
The Amaterix Clan. Elite. Respected. Known for their A bloodline of tacticians and prodigies.
"What clan are you from?" she asked, though the answer was clear from his eyes.
He hesitated, then said it anyway.
"Tsukiyari."
A flicker of something unreadable passed through Hoshi's expression—hesitation, maybe, or surprise—but it vanished quickly behind smug confidence.
"Oh. Right. The one with the haunted eyes."
Kylonalu's jaw tightened. He turned back to the dummy, fists curling.
"Creepy eyes," she added under her breath. "Like they can see inside your skin or something."
"They see Æther" he said flatly.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever." She leaned against the dummy. "Wanna fight?"
Kylonalu blinked. "…What?"
"You heard me. You're always out here alone, pretending to train. But I bet you don't know how to fight for real. So let's spar. Unless you're scared."
She smiled like she'd already won.
Kylonalu stepped back, slid into a ready stance, his green-and-gold eyes narrowing.
"You talk a lot for someone who's going to eat dirt."
Hoshi grinned wider. "That's more like it."
The fight began fast.
Hoshi moved first each punch guided by momentum and calculation. She was fast faster than him but not faster than the Vail Sight.
Kylonalu saw her strikes before they landed. He ducked under the first, twisted away from the second, and caught her third with a raised arm. Pain shot through him, but he turned it into movement, pivoting to sweep her legs. She jumped over him, flipped, and came down with a kick aimed at his back.
He rolled.
She grunted, missing by inches.
"Not bad," she said between breaths. "For a disgrace."
"You're not bad either," Kylonalu muttered, catching his breath. "For someone whose clan worships stars instead of training."
She snarled and launched herself at him again. The second exchange was messier, dirtier. Punches landed. Elbows grazed. Kylonalu's lip split open. Hoshi's knee met his side.
But neither stopped.
Until—finally—they both collapsed into the grass, gasping, exhausted.
Silence hung between them. The air was still warm from the clash of chakra.
"You've got good reflexes," Hoshi said, staring up at the sky.
Kylonalu nodded, sitting up with a wince. "You hit hard. Not just for a girl. Just in general."
Hoshi chuckled, then turned her head toward him.
"Your eyes don't creep me out." Her voice was quiet now. Honest.
[Two months later]
Kaika Yōkaiya was something entirely different.
She was the daughter of Ayato—the one and only Fox Soulforged, a living myth crafted by divine Æther, battle, and tragedy—and Ema, a former veteran whose fists had cracked more bones than some wars. Kaika carried her parents' power like a wildfire carries heat—uncontrolled, radiant, and always ready to burn.
And she hated Kylonalu.
"Get out of my way, Vail Freak."
She shoved past him again, same as yesterday, and the day before.
Kylonalu didn't move. His eyes flickered green-gold under his dark fringe.
"If you focused as much on your Æther control as you do on your insults, maybe you'd actually hit something today."
"Wha—what did you just—!?"
Inside her head, a high-pitched version of herself screamed:
"KICK HIM. IN. THE. FACE!! DO IT NOW, YOU GODDESS OF VIOLENCE!"
Kaika's hands twitched, Æther flaring, but she stopped herself. Not because she didn't want to—she absolutely did—but because he wasn't wrong.
And that made it worse.
They were grouped together for sparring that week by Ayato's special request, no less. Takashi had groaned when he heard.
"This is going to end with something exploding," he muttered. "Probably me, trying to break it up."
Ayato just smiled, arms crossed like a smug sage. "Clashing iron sharpens faster."
Day one? Kaika tried to take Kylonalu's head off with a spinning kick. He dodged, insulted her form, and tripped her using her own momentum.
Day two? She faked him out with a feint, but he caught her Æther signature mid-shift and countered with a smooth shoulder throw.
Day three? They both ended up bruised, bleeding, and glaring at each other from opposite sides of the dirt circle.
But day four…
Kaika didn't launch herself like a berserker. She watched. Waited. Matched his stillness with her own.
Kylonalu nodded slightly.
They fought—cleaner, more disciplined. Kicks exchanged. Parries landed. For a moment, it wasn't hate. It was harmony. It was like they spoke the same language: fists, feints, and fury.
At the end of the match, both stood panting, arms dropped, energy spent.
"Not bad," Kaika muttered.
"You didn't scream today," Kylonalu said.
"I was saving my voice," she snapped, but didn't look away.
Later, after training, they sat under the shade of an old sakura tree. It was the first time they hadn't immediately stormed off in opposite directions.
"Why do you even try so hard?" Kaika asked suddenly, chewing on a rice ball. "You're just a rejected ghost from a stuck-up clan that doesn't even like you."
Kylonalu didn't flinch. He looked up at the petals falling from above.
"Because if I don't, I'll disappear."
He looked at her. "And I think you're scared of the same thing."
Kaika's jaw tensed.
Her inner voice screamed:
"PUNCH HIM—RIGHT NOW. BEFORE EMOTIONS WIN."
But she didn't. Instead, she looked away and muttered, "…Shut up."
[After an hour]
Kaika and Kylonalu fought together like forged steel—until she let her temper flare, and he let his pride get in the way.
They argued.
Yelled.
"You think you're better than everyone just because you have those stupid eyes!"
"I think I'm better than you because I use my head, not just my fists and daddy's name."
That did it.
Kaika tackled him mid-sentence. The two rolled through the mud, fists flying. The instructor had to break them apart.
The manor walls suffocated him.
Even the sky felt smaller inside Tsukiyari territory, like the weight of generations pressed down on it, demanding silence, obedience, and perfection. Kylonalu moved quietly through the trees, away from the compound—where the air thickened with tension and unspoken resentment—toward the border where the forest opened like a sigh of relief.
The trees here didn't judge.
Neither did the wind.
And unlike the adults, the ancient woods didn't care about Bloodline Sigils or Vail Sight.
Kylonalu needed that.
He wandered for hours—boots scuffing roots, hands tucked into his cloak sleeves—until a strange sound reached him. Not an animal. Not a person, exactly. A tone—high and sharp like a whistle, but warped, layered with something… unnatural.
He followed it.
And that's when he saw her.
Blonde. Blue-eyed. Bound to a tree with a look of pure fury, not fear. Three older boys—outland scavengers by the look of their rough clothes—stood around her like they'd caught a rare bird and had no clue what to do with it.
She was calm, but only just.
"Untie me before I burn your names out of the Æther." Her voice was smooth and venom-laced.
They laughed nervously.
One reached forward.
Kylonalu didn't wait.
He stepped from the shadows like falling dusk. Three motions—three downed bodies. The boy who'd reached for her didn't even see Kylonalu's foot until it slammed into his jaw When the last one groaned and crawled away, the girl looked up with a blink.
"Huh." She smirked. "Well, you're efficient."
"You're welcome," Kylonalu said flatly, already undoing her ropes. She stretched her arms like a cat and rolled her neck.
"Name's Atena Osako. You're…?"
"Kylonalu."
She squinted at him. "You from that creepy house with the glowing glyph eyes?"
He blinked. "..Yeah."
"Weird. I like weird."
They walked together after that—she said she didn't like gratitude, so Kylonalu didn't offer any. The woods rustled softly as they moved deeper, following no path but her whims.
"You work with Æther, right?" she asked suddenly. Kylonalu glanced at her. "Everyone does." "Wrong." She spun to face him, walking backward now. "Everyone thinks they do. But most just mimic what they're told. Memorize Glyph Sequences, channel Core Arkana, call it a day. They don't listen to it." Kylonalu raised an eyebrow. "And you do?" "Of course I do," she said. "That's why I'm going to teach you."
Kylonalu paused mid-step. "Why me?"
She grinned like the sun caught in a blade. "Because you don't talk like the rest of them. You're not parroting some clan elder's drivel about honor or purity. You look. You feel. You already see it, don't you?" He hesitated. But yes. Sometimes in his room, or in the woods—he'd feel the world around him stir, even before his senses could place it. Like something old and patient lingered in the dirt, waiting to be heard. Atena clapped her hands. "Then sit."
"Sit?"
"Yes, grassbrain. On the ground. You want to understand Arkana, you stop standing like a soldier and start listening like a river." He sighed, but sat. She joined him, folding her legs with casual grace. "Æther is the thread. Arkana is the weave. But to do anything real with it—to touch the Primal Æther—you have to forget everything they taught you in those dusty halls." She laid her palm flat on the moss. A pulse. The ground shimmered. Leaves curled upward. Roots hummed. For a moment, the forest breathed.
"This is Primal Æther," she said. "It listens. It answers. But only if you don't try to dominate it. You request. Not command." Kylonalu stared at the moss. "That's not a Glyph Sequence."
"Nope." She smirked. "Glyphs are for people who need a translator. This is the old tongue. The one the world spoke before your clans carved it into scrolls." Kylonalu laid his palm down.
Nothing happened. But he felt a tingle. A memory of something deep. Buried. "You're too stiff," Atena said. "Æther doesn't care how tough your lineage is. It doesn't respond to pride. Only to presence. Try again." They stayed there for hours.The light dimmed. The trees sang And Kylonalu, for the first time, felt a current run through him that wasn't rage, wasn't isolation—it was like touching the heartbeat of the world. When they finally stood to leave, he asked, "So… why are you really teaching me?"
Atena shrugged. "Because I'm bored. And because I hate most people. But you…" She looked at him for a long beat. "You're a mystery. And mysteries make good projects."
Kylonalu frowned. "I'm not a project."
She just smiled. "Sure you're not."
And vanished into the dark like a streak of moonlight caught in motion.
{Two years passed.}
They say time heals all wounds.
Whoever said that never lived in the Tsukiyari manor The walls still whispered about him when he passed. The elders still avoided his eyes. He still trained alone. But something had changed—not outside him. Inside. The world hadn't grown softer. He had grown sharper. He still met Atena in the woods. Still felt the Primal Æther stir beneath his fingertips when he listened, not forced. He still wasn't part of the clan. But he didn't need to be.
Now, he stood at the gate of the Academy of Aetherial Disciplines, staring up at its grand stone entrance—where a spiral of glyphwork etched into obsidian announced the future: Knowledge is the Law, Power is the Trial, Balance is the Way. It was his first day. His hands were in his pockets. His shoulders relaxed. But inside, the nerves curled like wildfire through his chest.
"Oi! You just gonna stand there?" He turned. A girl stood nearby—black hair, green shirt, a little taller than him now. His eyes widened.
"Shishi…?" She gave him a crooked smile. "Took you long enough to remember." She didn't hug him. Didn't make a scene. Just walked forward and tapped his shoulder with two fingers. "Come on, Kyo. Let's be late together." He followed before his brain caught up. The classroom was warm with laughter, scattered chairs, and noise. Kids fidgeted. Some had parents hovering outside. Kylonalu had walked alone. They took their seats—Shishi next to him without asking. The instructor entered: a tall woman with silver-threaded braids and a long cloak that fluttered like mist. "I am Instructor Naera. You are here because the world decided you are worth shaping. Let's see if the world was right."Kylonalu watched her with quiet awe. Her presence stirred something in his Æther—not power, not intimidation. Balance. She was rooted. As roll was called, another voice piped up from the back: "Kyo?" He turned around sharply. There she was. The restaurant owner's daughter. Reiko. Still small. Still wearing a too-big scarf. Still tilting her head like she wasn't sure the world made any sense. "You got taller."
He blinked. "You remember me?" "You ate three bowls of soup in ten minutes and fell asleep in my dad's chair." She grinned. "You're hard to forget." Shishi raised an eyebrow. "You know her too?" Kylonalu sighed. "It's… a long story."
They trained in groups. Practiced Æther flow techniques. Shuffled clumsily through the first Glyph Sequences. The other kids struggled, their Æther flickering wildly or refusing to form at all. Kylonalu moved slowly. Deliberately. No one noticed how the air shifted around him. How the glyphs responded just a little too quickly. How his hands formed the sequences not like a student, but like someone remembering rather than learning. He didn't need to show off. And he didn't want to. Except when he caught Kaika Yōkaiya watching from across the room—arms crossed, smirking. He looked away. That afternoon, while walking home, Shishi ran ahead to check out the plum blossom trees that bloomed along the old shrine path. Reiko walked beside him, kicking rocks. "You're different now," she said. "Quieter." "You barely knew me." "I knew enough," she said. "Enough to know you didn't smile much back then. You still don't. But it's different now." He didn't answer.
Because she wasn't wrong. A few minutes later, they paused near the crossroads where the street met the forest path. Reiko waved and turned off toward her father's shop. Shishi headed in another direction. And Kylonalu? He took the path into the trees. Because just ahead, leaning against an ancient stone, her arms crossed and her ponytail loose in the wind Atena was waiting. She didn't speak at first. Just flicked her eyes over him, top to bottom. "You made it through the first day without blowing anything up." "I wanted to," he muttered. She smiled. "Good. That means you're learning restraint. That's lesson forty-seven." "I thought we were still on lesson thirteen." She shrugged. "Time's weird. So is growth."
She walked beside him, barefoot in the moss.
"You're not like them," she said finally. "Not Reiko. Not Shishi. Not Kaika. Not the other bloodmarked kids. You don't move like they do. You don't think like they do. That's going to make your life really difficult." Kylonalu looked at her. "But…?" "But it's going to make your life important." She stopped walking. "Just make sure that when you decide who you are—it's not because someone else told you what you had to be." The wind stirred. So did the Æther. Kylonalu felt it hum through the forest, through his bones. Through the stone of the academy far behind them.His first day had ended. But his real journey had only just begun.