Moonlight pooled on the grimoire’s pages as Liam hunched by the window, deciphering a passage on aetheric convergence. The author’s voice haunted him—too precise, too modern.

  “Mana crystallization requires absolute zero temperatures. Suggested method: aura-induced quantum locking…”

  A knock startled him. Mara entered, her nightrobe glowing with embroidered mana threads. “You’ll strain your eyes, little heart.”

  “Did Grandfather ever mention… other worlds?”

  She settled beside him. “He once told me stars are windows to realms where magic died. Why?”

  Because I’m from one, Liam screamed inwardly. Instead, he pointed to a grimoire illustration: a continent mapped with ley lines, labeled Aurion.

  “This land—our home—has no name in your stories. But here, it’s called Aurion.”

  Mara stiffened. “Where did you hear that word?”

  “It’s written here. The author named this continent Aurion.”

  Her fingers brushed the page. “When I was your age, traders spoke of ‘Aurion’s Lament’—a ballad about a fallen kingdom. The Church banned it decades ago.”

  “Why?”

  “Same reason they fear your inventions. Control.” She stood abruptly. “Rest. Tomorrow’s lessons won’t wait.”

  But sleep eluded Liam. Aurion. The name fit like a missing puzzle piece. At dawn, he sought Elric in the smithy.

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Papa, what happened to the old kingdoms?”

  Elric’s hammer rang against steel. “Same as always—greed, war, the Goddess’s wrath. Why?”

  “The grimoire mentions a united Aurion ruled by scholar-kings. They harnessed mana without the Church.”

  The hammer stilled. “Where’d you hear such nonsense?”

  “It’s here.” Liam flipped to a faded tapestry sketch—spires powered by crystalline reactors, farmers guiding mana-plows. “They didn’t fear progress. They embraced it.”

  Elric snatched the book. “Listen well. The Church burns villages for dreaming of this heresy. You want Lilia tied to a pyre again? Mara dragged before Inquisitors?”

  “But if we’re careful—”

  “Careful?” Elric’s aura flared, the smithy’s temperature soaring. “You’re a child playing with dragonfire. This stops now.”

  Liam recoiled. Never had Elric’s anger turned on him.

  “Give me the book,” Elric demanded.

  “No.”

  The standoff broke when Lilia sauntered in, an apple core dangling from her lips. “Aw, teaching the sprout to swear?”

  Elric’s fist clenched. “He’s digging up graves better left buried."

  Lilia plucked the grimoire from Liam’s hands, winked, and tossed it into the quenching trough.

  “No!” Liam lunged, but Elric held him fast.

  Lilia fished out the dripping book. “Relax. Look.”

  The pages glowed faintly, water beading off them like mercury. “Indestructible,” she grinned. “Your grandpapa’s no fool.”

  Elric paled. “That’s forbidden craft. Papa swore he’d abandoned…”

  “Abandoned what?” Liam pressed.

  But Elric stormed out, leaving silence thicker than forge smoke.

  The Uninvited Guest

  Grandfather arrived unannounced two weeks later.

  Liam recognized him instantly—the man from his vision of the Voice. Silver hair cascaded over robes stitched with arcane sigils, his gaze twin shards of frost.

  “So.” The archduke’s voice resonated with buried power. “You’re the heir who reads the unreadable.”

  Lilia tensed, a dagger hidden behind her back. Mara’s mana threads coiled like serpents. Only Elric stood relaxed, though his aura vibrated like a plucked bowstring.

  “You’ve seen the grimoire,” Grandfather stated. “What did you learn?”

  Liam met his gaze. “That Aurion’s past holds the key to its future. And you’re afraid of that.”

  The archduke’s laugh crackled with static. “Afraid? Child, I’ve waited decades for someone to speak that name aloud.” He leaned close, whispering words that chilled Liam’s blood:

  “Welcome to the war.”