THE AETHERBORN

Thorne sat inside the dimly lit warehouse, his right foot tapping nervously on the cold concrete floor. The weight of his uncle's revelations pressed heavily on his mind, transforming a lingering headache into a full-blown migraine. His vision blurred at the edges, and his thoughts felt like they were slipping through his fingers, hard to catch, harder to hold onto.

Sid was due any moment, and Thorne knew he couldn’t afford to be off his game. Failing to show up, or worse, showing fear, would raise suspicion, and that was the last thing he needed. The more he replayed that night in his mind, the more he convinced himself Sid hadn't noticed anything unusual. If Sid had seen his aether manipulation, he would've reported it to Uncle, and Uncle... Thorne shuddered, his imagination running wild. Being sold off to a high noble for experimentation, or worse, having his body harvested for parts—his skin, his blood, his power.

The coldness of the thought crept up his spine, chilling him to the core.

A flicker of movement in the corner of his eye snapped him back to the present. Thorne looked up, forcing himself to stay calm. His heart, however, betrayed him, thundering in his chest. A shadow slithered through the warehouse, too fast for his liking. A second later, a firm tap on his shoulder sent him spiraling into a panic.

He screamed, spinning around so quickly he lost his balance and tumbled onto the cold floor, face-first. Pain shot up his nose, but fear drowned out the sting.

Laughter echoed around him, sharp and mocking. Sid stood over him, his malicious grin almost feral. "Nervous, boy?" Sid’s voice dripped with amusement as he stepped closer, looming over Thorne like a predator over its prey.

Scrambling to his feet, Thorne tried to shake off the terror, brushing his clothes with shaky hands. "No, just… startled," he mumbled, unable to meet Sid’s piercing gaze.

Sid narrowed his eyes, his grin widening like a wolf baring its teeth. "Startled, huh? You should be on edge, given everything that's been going on. It's a dangerous world out there, as I'm sure you've noticed." His tone was casual, but the undercurrent of menace was unmistakable.

Thorne nodded, trying his best to appear unfazed. "Yeah, I've noticed."

The shift in Sid’s posture was subtle, but the atmosphere grew heavier. His eyes sharpened, pinning Thorne in place. "So, tell me, Thorne… what exactly happened that night with the guards? You did something… extraordinary, didn't you?"

Thorne’s heart lurched in his chest. His acting skill flared to life, smoothing his features into a mask of curiosity rather than the sheer terror boiling underneath. "I just did what I had to do to survive," he said, forcing his voice to stay steady. "I used every trick and skill you’ve taught me."

Sid’s gaze remained locked on him, unblinking. "Every trick and skill, huh?" His voice turned silky, his words cutting deeper. "Funny, because I've never seen anyone move the way you did. It was like you were there one moment and gone the next. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you have… special talents." He leaned in closer. "Maybe even a few that you’ve kept hidden."

Thorne’s pulse quickened, the air thickening with tension. "I got lucky," he muttered, hoping the lie would stick.

Sid laughed, but it was a hollow sound, devoid of humor. "Lucky?" he repeated, the word dripping with skepticism. "Maybe. Or maybe there’s more to you than you’re letting on." He stepped back, giving Thorne some space, but his eyes never left the boy’s face, studying him like a puzzle.

Then Sid’s voice took on a strange cadence, smooth as silk, yet sharp as glass. "You know," he said, his words slithering into Thorne’s ears, "I used my identification skill on you. Guess what? Came up empty. Not even a name." His gaze darkened. "Unless… you have a special trait."

Panic gripped Thorne, and he fought the overwhelming urge to grab his mother’s pendant. His fingers twitched, yearning for the comfort of the worn stone, but he forced them to stay at his sides.

Sid’s voice grew softer, laced with an unnatural charm. "Maybe you’re an exiled elven princeling?" he mused, his eyes gleaming with intrigue. "Your features are too refined for a street rat. Maybe some noble blood flows through your veins. The rich are always after beauty and power, after all."

Thorne felt a disturbance in the aether, and Sid's next words sounded different, as if his tongue was dipped in honey. Each word was intriguing and compelling, making Thorne stare at the man's lips, not wanting to miss a single syllable. His voice was deep and melodious, like an ancient song gifted to the world after millennia.

Thorne felt honored to listen to such a voice and wanted to please the man, to answer whatever he asked, just to keep hearing that godly sound. The words barely registered in his mind, but he knew Sid wanted to know who Thorne truly was. The aether swirled around him in a maelstrom, encasing Thorne in shimmering energy that tried to burrow into his core, to pry open his deepest secrets. Thorne’s body reacted instinctively, his core resisting the foreign aether, pushing it away with a force he hadn’t known he possessed.

A sudden jolt ran through him, and a notification flashed in his vision:

Congratulations! You have Unlocked a New Skill: Mindguard.

Thorne's eyes widened as the surge of information flooded his mind. Sid had been using a skill on him. His new ability, a defensive mechanism, had kicked in, shielding him from the mental probing, but it wasn’t enough. Sid’s voice still carried that eerie, magical cadence, and Thorne felt the pull of truth tugging at his lips. His heart pounded, and panic gripped him.

He fought to keep control, but the urge to spill everything was overwhelming. His mouth twisted into a grimace, his eyes bulging as he physically fought to stay silent, every muscle in his body tense with the effort. Sid’s eyes narrowed, and Thorne saw the recognition dawning in the man’s gaze. He was seconds away from being discovered.

Desperation took over. Thorne activated his Acting skill, forcing his body to relax, his face going slack. He let his eyes glaze over, unfocused, drawing Sid’s attention away from the truth bubbling up inside him. His mind raced, grasping for something, anything, that would sound convincing. He felt the aether inside him hum, not wild like before, but steady, pulsing from his core. He infused it into his voice, mimicking Sid’s manipulation, and prayed that it would be enough.

"I... I’m no princeling," Thorne’s voice trembled, hollow, yet strangely convincing, even to his own ears. "I’m just a boy spurned by his father." He paused, letting his voice crack for effect, blinking rapidly as if holding back tears. “A man from a foreign land fell in love with a human woman. When he found out she was pregnant, he drove her away, fearing ridicule and scorn from his peers. My mother, distraught, sought help, but no one offered a hand. She decided to return to her homeland. Our journey was dangerous, but she always protected me."

Sid remained silent, his eyes locked onto Thorne, watching every twitch, every subtle movement.

Thorne continued, his voice cracking for effect, and he furiously blinked back imaginary tears. "We were alone. Always alone. Until… she couldn’t protect me anymore."

The pause stretched out between them, the silence so heavy it pressed on Thorne’s chest. His fingers trembled as he finished the story, every second feeling like a lifetime. Keep your head down. Look vulnerable. Don’t push it too far.

Thorne forced his gaze downward, pretending to choke on the emotion. He could hear the blood rushing in his ears, his heart hammering in his chest, but he kept his face passive. "You see... I’m no princeling, just a kid without parents," he finished, letting the words hang in the air.

Silence. Thorne’s heart raced as he waited, unsure if Sid would buy the lie. The seconds stretched painfully long. He didn't know where all this nonsense had come from, but he was thankful.

Then, finally, a grunt. Sid stepped back, and the tension in the room shifted, his steps retreating. "Uncle thinks highly of you, you know," Sid said with casual indifference, as if the intense exchange had never happened. "He believes you have great potential."

Thorne dared to glance up, blinking in surprise. The dangerous glint in Sid’s eyes had dimmed—just a little—but it was enough. His body swayed, exhaustion crashing into him as a flood of notifications filled his vision.

Congratulations! You have gained a new skill: Echoes of Truth!

Skill Level Up: Deception!

Skill Level Up: Deception!

Skill Level Up: Deception!

Skill Level Up: Deception!

Skill Level Up: Deception!

Skill Level Up: Acting!

Skill Level Up: Acting!

Skill Level Up: Acting!

Skill Level Up: Echoes of Truth!

Skill Level Up: Echoes of Truth!

The notifications kept coming, his skills jumping levels rapidly as if the entire ordeal had supercharged him. Relief washed over him—he had managed to fool Sid, at least for now. He couldn’t believe he’d pulled it off.

It was clear, however, one wrong move, and everything would come crashing down. He focused on his new skill, Echoes of Truth, realizing just how powerful it was. He could lie through his teeth, and no one would know the difference.

Thorne forced a smile, his acting skill smoothing the tension from his face. "I’m glad he thinks so," he said, his voice steady despite the fear still clawing at him.

Sid’s grin returned, but there was a dark edge to it. "Let’s hope you live up to his expectations. For your sake." The words hung in the air like a warning.

Thorne’s headache throbbed, pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. He needed to shift the conversation before Sid pressed further into dangerous territory. "What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Sid’s eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and calculation, as though he enjoyed watching Thorne squirm. "I wanted to see if you were ready for more advanced training," he said, stepping back and crossing his arms. "Your uncle thinks it’s time for you to be under my wing. Properly."

Thorne felt a shiver run down his spine. There was no mistaking the finality in Sid’s voice. "Alright, boy. It’s time we change things up," Sid said, his expression hardening. "From now on, there will be no more games."

Thorne’s eyes widened in surprise. Games? Was that what Sid thought they’d been doing all this time? The hours of grueling training, the endless bruises, the aching muscles that never seemed to heal—that was play to him? Thorne clenched his fists, forcing himself to keep calm, but inside, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of disbelief. If this was Sid’s idea of games, what would serious training look like?

Sid’s eyes narrowed, as if sensing Thorne’s internal struggle, and continued in a low, commanding tone. “We’ll move on to more advanced training. You’ll be focusing on different weapons and skills. By the time you reach fourteen, I want you to have acquired as many skills as possible when you form your core.”

Relief and fear hit Thorne at once. Sid still hadn’t figured out the truth—that Thorne had already formed his core and was learning new skills far ahead of schedule. His secret was safe, for now. But the idea of this new training unsettled him. He needed to get stronger, that much was clear, but the path Sid and his uncle had laid out was full of danger. The memory of his sister, Bea, flashed in his mind—her face, her laughter. He had to find her. He had to be strong enough to free her, wherever she was.

But this training came with a cost. Thorne knew his uncle’s hand was behind all of this. The man wasn’t offering these opportunities out of kindness. He was being groomed. His uncle was molding him into a weapon, another Sid—a cold, loyal tool to carry out dirty work in the shadows. The very thought made Thorne sick. He wanted to grimace, to scream at the injustice, but he kept his face neutral. His uncle's intentions didn't matter right now. What mattered was getting stronger, surviving long enough to find Bea, and learning how to navigate the treacherous game that was being forced on him.

He couldn’t afford to be weak.

"Understood," Thorne said, his voice steady, masking the storm raging inside him.

Sid’s grin was sharp and cold, a predator’s smile. "Good. We’ll start tomorrow. Be ready."

As Sid turned to leave, Thorne felt a mixture of dread and determination settle over him. He would have to tread carefully. The stakes were higher now than ever. He had to get stronger, not just for himself, but for Bea. The thought of her trapped somewhere, held captive, spurred him on. He couldn’t fail her. He wouldn’t. If that meant playing along with his uncle’s schemes, so be it. He would play the game, and when the time came, he would be ready.

Sid paused at the door, his eyes narrowing with warning. "Don’t disappoint me, boy."

Thorne met his gaze, his resolve hardening like steel. "I won’t."

When Sid finally left, Thorne sank back down onto the cold warehouse floor, his legs feeling weak. His mind raced, replaying every word, every moment of the conversation. The weight of Sid’s expectations, the new training regimen, the constant fear of discovery—it all pressed down on him like a physical burden. His muscles still throbbed from his last fight, and now he was expected to push even further, to break past his limits again.

It was overwhelming. Exhausting. And yet... exhilarating.

He needed this. He needed to push himself harder, to become more skilled, more powerful. His survival depended on it. Bea’s survival depended on it. Every ounce of strength he gained was one step closer to freeing her, to ensuring they both survived in this twisted, dangerous world.

Thorne’s fingers tightened around the hilt of the knife his uncle had given him, the cold steel a reminder of the path he was on. He would become stronger, not for Sid, not for his uncle—but for himself. For Bea.

He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t.

Thorne thought of Bea—his sister, his anchor in a world that had spiraled into chaos. She had always been there for him, her laughter brightening even the darkest days. And now she was gone, taken from him when their lives were torn apart. The image of her face, her voice, haunted him, yet it was the fuel that kept him going. He had to find her. He had to be strong enough to rescue her, to protect her. But could he do that without embracing the path laid before him?

His uncle's cold words rang in his ears: "We can't afford mistakes." The man was ruthless, cunning—a master manipulator who saw Thorne not as family, but as a tool, a weapon to be sharpened and wielded. It stung, knowing that the man who had taken him in, who had shown him kindness, was only doing so for his own gain. But dwelling on that bitterness wouldn't help him now. He had no time for resentment; there were bigger things at play.

The training Sid offered was a lifeline, a chance to gain power. Real power. Thorne knew that if he wanted to stand a chance, if he wanted to protect himself and find Bea, he had to embrace the opportunity. He had to become someone formidable—someone who could dig into the truth of his past, uncover the mystery of his mother’s death, and, most importantly, track down his sister.

But fear was never far away, gnawing at him with every decision he made. What if Sid found out about his core? What if his uncle discovered his secret, that he wasn’t just a street kid, but part of the elder races? The consequences of that revelation would be catastrophic. They would hunt him down, or worse, sell him to the highest bidder. His very existence was a danger.

He inhaled sharply, forcing himself to calm down. He couldn't afford to show weakness, not in front of Sid. Sid was always watching. Every look, every word would be weighed and analyzed, searching for cracks in Thorne's mask. If he gave away even the smallest hint of his true abilities, of the power lurking beneath the surface, it would be over. He had to stay sharp, to control his emotions, to wear the mask of the eager student while hiding the truth of what he really was.

His path was clear now. Thorne would go along with Sid’s training, taking everything he could from the man. He would become stronger, honing his skills and mastering every lesson. But all the while, he would be careful. He would guard his secrets fiercely, always aware of the danger that loomed over him. He had to outthink them, to stay ahead of their plans while quietly preparing for his own.

Tomorrow, the real training would begin. And Thorne was ready.