Asher awoke to warmth. Not just the comforting embrace of the silken sheets beneath him, but the steady, familiar weight of two bodies draped over him. Brynn and Vicky lay on either side, their forms tangled with his, their steady breaths a soothing rhythm against his skin.

  It had become a nightly occurrence—no longer something that needed words or explanation. They always shared a bed.

  Asher still didn’t understand how he had gotten so lucky.

  He let his gaze linger on them. Brynn, her raven-black hair cascading across the pillow, her blue eyes still hidden beneath the veil of sleep. Even at rest, she carried an aura of quiet command, her body toned from years of training, but still possessing the regal grace that made her presence undeniable.

  Vicky, on the other hand, was a mess of tangled brown-blonde waves, her hazel-green eyes—when open—always carrying that distinct golden glow. Her body had hardened from their time in Aeloria, muscles sculpted by countless battles, yet she still carried the wild, mischievous energy that was uniquely her own.

  Asher reached out, his fingers brushing lightly across their cheeks. The moment was fleeting, stolen from the chaos that awaited them the moment they stepped beyond the walls of their chambers.

  Brynn stirred first, her dark lashes fluttering open as a slow, knowing smile curved her lips. “Good morning, my king,” she murmured.

  Asher returned her smile, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “And I you, my queen.”

  Vicky groaned, rubbing at her eyes with a lazy hand before burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Ugh,” she mumbled. “Why do you two always wake up so disgustingly sweet?”

  Brynn smirked. “You love it.”

  Vicky huffed, propping herself up on her elbows. “So, what’s the plan for today, lovers?”

  Asher chuckled, pulling her closer as he ran his fingers through the tangled strands of her hair. “Well, today is the day I finally show you what I gained during my journey with Sylthara and Lunira.”

  Vicky raised a brow. “Oh? And where is Lunira?”

  Brynn stretched, her black hair spilling over her shoulder as she yawned. “She’s been training nonstop with the knights—Jorven and Dravyn mostly. She refuses to take up any other role. Says she’s going to be your most loyal knight.”

  Vicky snorted. “That girl is, what, eleven? And she’s already pledging herself as a knight? That’s some serious devotion.”

  Asher exhaled, the thought tugging at something deep within him. “She reminds me of Delaney.”

  Silence settled over them.

  Brynn’s gaze softened, and Vicky’s teasing demeanor melted into something gentler.

  “It’s okay,” Asher assured them before they could speak. “It doesn’t stab my heart the way it used to.” He hesitated, then continued, “Saving Lunira… it gave me real happiness in this world. Along with having you two, of course.”

  The shadows in the far corner of the room shifted.

  Asher sighed, his voice laced with exasperation. “Come out, Sylthara.”

  In an instant, the darkness twisted and took form—flowing like liquid night until Sylthara stepped forward, her dark luminescent robes shimmering with an ethereal glow. Her shadow-wings unfurled behind her, curling and shifting as if they had a will of their own. Her crimson eyes gleamed with amusement.

  “Good morning, master,” she purred, her lips curling into a devious smile.

  Asher rolled his eyes. “I told you to knock before you enter.”

  Sylthara tilted her head, mock innocence in her expression. “But I never left, master. So I didn’t see the need to knock.”

  Asher groaned, rubbing his temples. “Never mind.”

  He clapped his hands three times, and the heavy oak doors of his chamber swung open. A young palace attendant stood in the threshold, his posture stiff with nerves.

  “Yes, my king?” The boy bowed deeply, his voice trembling slightly.

  Asher studied him for a moment. “I haven’t seen you before. Is it your first day?”

  The boy straightened. “Yes, sir. It’s an honor to serve you!”

  Asher chuckled. “Relax, son. No one here bites.” He cast a glance at Sylthara. “Well—most of us, anyway.”

  The boy swallowed hard.

  “Send word to the palace,” Asher instructed. “A great meeting is to take place. There is news that carries great importance to the kingdom. Move quickly.”

  The boy nodded and raced off without another word.

  Not even an hour later, the war chamber of Aetherhold was bustling with anticpation for the king's news

  Banners of Asher’s victories adorned the walls, woven with depictions of battles won and sacrifices made. At the northern corners of the room stood statues of Brynn and Vicky, sculpted from enchanted marble, their likenesses captured with exquisite detail. Alongside them were statues of fallen generals—reminders of the price of war.

  Seated at the great war table were the kingdom’s most powerful leaders: Brynn, Vicky, Jorven, Dravyn, Kaelen, Elara, Aetheros, Sylthara, and Tormund. They sat in silence, waiting for Asher to speak.

  He exhaled, letting the weight of the moment settle.

  “Thank you all for coming,” he began. “Before we begin, let us take a moment of silence for those who are not here today—Garren, Malisya, and the thousands who gave their lives so we could sit in this room.”

  Heads bowed.

  When the moment passed, Asher continued. “I know my return has been sudden, and many of you wonder what I have gained in my time away.” He felt a cool, shadowy presence coil around his mind—Sylthara, offering her silent encouragement.

  “What I have to tell you,” he said, “is something that may change everything.”

  The room fell into a tense hush.

  “After escaping Nyxhold, I found a place lost to time. A land that predates the Sylvari. A civilization that history has forgotten.”

  Murmurs rippled through the chamber, but Asher raised a hand, commanding silence.

  “In that land, I found an artifact.” He placed a hand over his chest. “I call it the Void Core.”

  Brynn’s eyes lit up with scholarly excitement. “Where is it?” she asked, half-expecting a relic to be brought forward.

  Asher pointed to his heart.

  Vicky scoffed. “Very funny.”

  Brynn’s smile faded as she studied him, her sharp mind already piecing it together. “You’re serious.”

  He nodded.

  “So you’re telling me,” she said, slowly, “that you absorbed an artifact from a lost civilization directly into your body? And you don’t fully understand its purpose?”

  Asher grinned. “Pretty much.”

  Vicky groaned. “Gods help us.”

  A chair scraped as Kaelen finally spoke, his voice low and measured. “That’s reckless.” His gaze was sharp, his jaw set in grim disapproval. “You have no idea what this thing is or what it might do to you. I fought too many wars to see a king throw himself into ruin over something unknown.”

  Elara, who had been silent until now, crossed her arms, her sharp green eyes flicking between Asher and Kaelen. “And yet, that’s the job of a king, isn’t it?” she mused, her tone edged with dry amusement. “To step into the unknown when no one else will?”

  Kaelen let out a slow breath but said nothing.

  Without another word, Asher lifted his hand, summoning a sphere of pure Void Magic.

  Darkness coalesced in his palm, an inky black orb threaded with deep violet light. The air around it warped, space itself bending slightly.

  Brynn’s breath hitched. “By the gods… that’s not just void magic. It’s… something else. There is no Aether counterbalancing it... Fascinating.” Brynn began furiously scrawling notes in a journal, along with other researchers who watched her every move.

  Kaelen stared at the writhing sphere of void energy, his fingers tightening into fists. “I don’t trust it,” he muttered.

  Sylthara stepped forward, her voice smooth and knowing. “The lost civilization used this magic exclusively. And they believed it was the key to stopping the corruption.”

  Asher’s voice was steady. “And now, that key resides inside me. For better or for worse.”

  Silence.

  Then, all at once, the room erupted into frantic discussion.

  And Asher knew—this was only the beginning.

  Elara leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. “Let’s set aside whether or not this is the best idea,” she said, eyes flicking to Kaelen before settling on Asher. “What I want to know is how we use it.”

  Kaelen scowled but gave a reluctant nod. “Agreed. If this is the weapon we’ve been given, we need to know how to wield it without destroying ourselves in the process.”

  The meeting spiraled into barely controlled chaos. Voices clashed, each leader pushing their stance, the weight of the revelation pressing on them like an unseen force.

  Brynn, her blue eyes blazing with determination, slammed her palm against the war table. “I need time to study Asher—properly. If the Void Core is truly bound to him, we have to understand its limits and its purpose. This isn't just some artifact—it’s a remnant of a civilization that was erased from history! What if it’s unstable? What if it’s a trap? There is nothing more important than figuring out exactly what’s inside him.”

  Vicky leaned back in her chair, golden light flickering in her hazel-green eyes, watching Brynn with lazy amusement. “Relax, scholar.” She smirked, propping her boots on the war table despite the sharp glare Dravyn shot her. “Sounds to me like my guy just got handed the ultimate weapon, and I say we roll with it. Maybe now those hideous Veinforged freaks will think twice before fucking with us again.”

  Aetheros, standing near the back of the chamber, finally spoke, her voice smooth yet carrying an unmistakable edge of unease. “I… don’t like this magic,” she admitted, her silver-blue gaze flickering with uncertainty. “It’s… cold. Not in temperature, but in presence. Magic—true magic—has rhythm, movement, breath. This? This feels like something that exists outside of life.”

  Elara tapped her fingers against the table. “That doesn’t mean it’s evil.”

  Aetheros’ expression tightened. “It means it’s not of this world.”

  Vicky rolled her eyes. “That’s what the training is for, isn’t it?”

  Before Aetheros could retort, the torches flickered, and the very air in the room darkened.

  A ripple of shadow slithered outward from Sylthara, curling along the edges of the chamber, devouring the light at the corners. The weight of her power settled over them like a shroud, the tips of her black robes writhing as if alive. The shifting shadows whispered against the stone.

  “Enough.”

  Her voice was not loud, yet it commanded.

  Everyone fell silent.

  as the shadows coiled around Sylthara’s form, their inky tendrils kissing hungrily at the floor beneath her feet.

  “What matters most now,” she continued, crimson eyes gleaming, “is ensuring my master and your king learns to wield this power. The civilization that created the Void Core… despite all their wisdom, all their advancements, could only stall the Corruption.” She tilted her head slightly, her smile edged with something cruel. “And they were still destroyed.”

  A heavy silence filled the chamber.

  “That means,” she went on, stepping closer to the war table, “they never reached the point we are at now. We have already surpassed them in knowledge and power. And that means…” her smirk deepened, “we are walking into uncharted territory.”

  Jorven and Dravyn exchanged a glance before, almost at the same time, they spoke.

  “We’ll train him.”

  They both paused, then let out a low chuckle.

  Jorven, the elder of the two, ran a rough hand through his graying beard. “We’ll push him to his limits. Test everything he has. If the Void Core is truly part of him, we’ll see what potential it holds.”

  Dravyn smirked. “And if he breaks?”

  Jorven shot Asher a look. “Then he wasn’t worthy of it in the first place.”

  The words were spoken lightly, but there was no humor in them.

  Asher had been silent, letting the conversation unfold naturally, absorbing every word. But now, as the weight of the room settled onto him, all eyes turned in his direction.

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms against the war table, his emerald gaze cutting through the tension.

  “That’s a fine plan,” he said evenly, his voice low and unwavering. “But there’s something far more pressing than just training.” He let the words hang for a moment. “The Veinforged.”

  The shift in atmosphere was immediate.

  Brynn’s brows furrowed. Vicky’s smirk faltered. Aetheros exhaled sharply. Even Sylthara’s amused expression faded.

  “The truth is,” Asher continued, “we can’t rely on any help from the envoys we sent out. There has been no word, and that silence alone tells me everything I need to know.” He exhaled, his fingers drumming against the wood. “Vorlath is dead, but that isn’t the end of it.”

  Brynn sat up straighter. “What do you mean?”

  Asher’s expression darkened. “Vorlath was just a pawn.”

  The weight of the statement sank into the room. A ripple of murmurs spread among the gathered leaders.

  Jorven muttered a curse under his breath. Dravyn clenched his fists.

  Asher let the noise continue for a few seconds before he lifted a hand. The chamber fell silent once more.

  “The power behind him—whatever was controlling him—has seen us now,” he said, his voice even but sharp. “And with Vorlath gone, we’ve made ourselves a target.” His jaw clenched. “Things are about to get much, much worse.”

  Jorven exhaled through his nose. “Then we prepare for war.”

  Vicky’s smirk was gone. When she spoke, her voice was quiet but deadly. “Let them come.”

  Aetheros folded her arms, her silver-blue gaze calculating. “I will begin reinforcing the wards around the city.”

  Brynn, however, wasn’t done. She turned back to Asher, blue eyes burning with renewed determination.

  “No.”

  The single word cut through the chamber, and everyone turned to her.

  Before Asher could respond, she leaned forward, her voice steel and fire. “Before we do anything, I need time with you. I need to understand this Core. If this is going to be the key to surviving what’s coming, we can’t treat it like some shiny new sword you picked up on an adventure.” Her jaw tightened. “We will figure out what’s inside you.”

  Asher met her gaze, studying the intensity there.

  Sylthara’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Careful, scholar,” she murmured. “You might not like what you find.”

  Brynn didn’t even look at her. “I don’t care.” She stared Asher down. “Promise me, Asher.”

  A beat of silence.

  Then, finally, he nodded.

  “Fine.”

  Dravyn clapped his hands together. “Then it’s settled. Training begins tomorrow at dawn.”

  Sylthara folded her arms. “And after that?”

  Asher’s gaze hardened. “Then we prepare for war.”

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  A heavy stillness pressed into the room.

  No one spoke.

  But they all felt it—the storm that was coming.

  And this time, there would be no retreat.

  The war council had come to a conclusion—training and preparation for war were inevitable—but before any blades were sharpened, before any strategy could be finalized, one thing needed to be understood.

  The Void Core.

  Brynn stood before Asher, arms crossed, her blue eyes gleaming with something far too excited for his liking. “You promised,” she reminded him.

  Asher exhaled, rubbing his temple. “I did.”

  “Good,” Brynn said briskly. Without warning, she grabbed his wrist, and before he could protest, a portal of deep cerulean light flickered into existence beside them. The runic symbols of her teleportation spell spun in elegant spirals, the energy crackling with sharp arcs of contained power.

  Vicky let out a bark of laughter as she leaned back in her chair. “Gods, she didn’t even pretend to ask permission.”

  Brynn ignored her, tightening her grip on Asher. “Come along, my king. We have work to do.”

  And with that, they vanished into the light.

  The world shifted, reality folding in on itself, and when Asher’s vision cleared, he found himself standing in Brynn’s private laboratory within the Aetheric College.

  The room was massive, built from smooth, ivory-hued stone that pulsed faintly with embedded veins of Aether. Tomes and scrolls lined the walls, packed onto towering shelves reinforced with enchanted bindings that hummed faintly when passed. Crystalline lanterns floated overhead, casting shifting shades of violet, blue, and gold. The room pulsed with pure arcane energy—not unlike Brynn herself.

  At the center of the space was a massive scrying mirror, its obsidian surface rippling like disturbed water. Several arcane instruments, some of which Asher didn’t even recognize, were positioned meticulously across a circular workstation.

  Brynn wasted no time.

  With a flick of her wrist, she conjured a series of magical circles beneath them—golden lines of spellwork weaving across the floor, binding them into her controlled space. She had prepared for this.

  Asher raised a brow. “How long have you been waiting to drag me in here?”

  Brynn didn’t look up from adjusting one of her lenses. “Since the moment you told me the Core was inside you.”

  “Of course.”

  She turned toward him, eyes sharp. “Remove your shirt.”

  Asher arched a brow, smirking. “At least take me to dinner first.”

  Brynn rolled her eyes. “Off. Now.”

  Sighing, he complied, peeling away his tunic, exposing the place where the Void Core rested.

  There was no wound, no visible artifact—just the faint, dark pulsing glow beneath his skin, right where his heart should be. Black veins, barely noticeable, traced outward from the core’s location, thrumming with energy that shifted between aetheric light and deep, endless void.

  Brynn stepped closer, brow furrowed in concentration. She touched the area lightly, fingertips barely grazing the surface of his skin. At her touch, the black energy shifted, responding—almost reacting to her presence.

  She frowned. “It’s… aware.”

  Asher inhaled. “Aware?”

  “Not sentient,” Brynn clarified, withdrawing her hand, her mind racing. “But it’s responding. It reacts to touch, to magic… It knows when it’s being studied.”

  She turned toward her Seer’s Mirror, placing her hands on either side of the obsidian glass. The surface rippled as magic flooded through it, responding to her unique gift—her Seer’s Sight.

  Asher watched as her pupils dilated, her entire focus pulled into the mirror’s reflection. He knew better than to disturb her when she was like this.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then—

  Brynn gasped, her breath sharp, and the golden threads of her magic flashed violently.

  The mirror shifted, revealing something impossible.

  Not a solid structure, not stone, nor metal, nor crystal—but something else entirely.

  A substance unknown to this world.

  The Core’s form in the mirror was an inverted silhouette, a void that seemed to warp the fabric of reality itself. It wasn’t just a thing—it was something beyond matter.

  Brynn’s hands tightened against the mirror’s frame. “This… this doesn’t exist. Not in this world. Not anywhere in Aeloria.”

  Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she pushed deeper, unraveling the layers of the Core’s structure.

  It pulsed—shifting, flickering with fragments of Aether—but the Aether was not part of it. It wasn’t a partner to this magic. It was a byproduct.

  Aether leaked from the Core like the dying light of stars consumed by something far greater.

  Brynn’s breath hitched.

  Void magic wasn’t just another form of magic.

  It was a higher form.

  Aether wasn’t its opposite. It wasn’t even its equal. It was merely an echo, a lesser frequency in the grand design of the cosmos.

  She snapped out of the trance, her breath uneven.

  Asher had seen her like this before—lost in the thrill of discovery, overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of knowledge.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  Brynn turned to face him, and for the first time, there was something in her expression beyond excitement. Awe. Fear. Wonder.

  “I don’t know.”

  She hated saying that.

  “I have theories,” she continued quickly, pacing as her mind raced. “First—the Void Core is not an artifact in the traditional sense. It’s not a crafted object. It’s something else, something organic, but not in the way we understand.”

  She turned back to the mirror. “It doesn’t work with Aether—it generates Aether as a byproduct. That means…” she hesitated.

  Asher’s gaze sharpened. “That means Void magic isn’t just another branch of magic.”

  Brynn nodded slowly.

  “It’s above magic,” she whispered.

  Aether, the force that governed all life, the source of every spell, every enchantment, every natural force in the world…

  It was secondary.

  Aether was a side effect of the Void’s existence.

  Brynn pressed her hands against the table, her mind reeling. “I need more time. More tests. More study.”

  Asher exhaled. “How much time?”

  Her gaze was sharp when she looked at him. “Weeks. Months. Years, if I had them.”

  She didn’t have them.

  No one did.

  Asher pulled his shirt back on. “Then we’ll have to work fast.”

  Brynn wasn’t satisfied with that answer. But war wouldn’t wait for discoveries.

  Still, the realization sat between them, monumental, terrifying, undeniable.

  Magic had always been understood as the fundamental force of the cosmos.

  But if Void Magic came before it…

  Then what was above that?

  Hours passed.

  Brynn was relentless, her mind a whirlwind of calculations, magical diagnostics, and frantic scribbling. Her journal was already filled with pages upon pages of notes, diagrams of the Void Core’s structure, annotations of her theories—half-formed thoughts written in sharp, quick strokes.

  Asher, however, was losing the battle with exhaustion.

  He sat shirtless in the center of her worktable, runes and sigils glowing faintly around him as various enchanted instruments hovered and pulsed with arcane energy. Dozens of spells had been cast, each designed to measure, analyze, and dissect the Core’s nature, but all they had gotten in return were more questions.

  Brynn muttered to herself as she flipped through yet another tome, biting the end of her quill. Her blue eyes burned with obsession, flicking between the Seer’s Mirror and the glowing symbols shifting across Asher’s skin.

  “There has to be a pattern,” she murmured, adjusting the focus on her Aether Lens, a shimmering device that refracted magical energy into visible spectrums. “There’s always a pattern. Everything follows some kind of order.”

  Asher sighed, his head tilting back against the chair. “Brynn, you’ve been at this for hours.”

  She didn’t acknowledge him, her fingers tracing the air, manipulating streams of Aether to overlay against the Void signatures pulsing from his core.

  “Brynn,” he repeated, rubbing his temples. “I’m literally about to fall asleep sitting up.”

  She made an absent “Mmh.” sound, jotting something down in her journal.

  Asher blinked sluggishly, his limbs heavy. He vaguely registered the cool air of the lab, the faint hum of residual magic still vibrating through his bones. He had been a damn good soldier in his past life—he’d survived on barely any sleep before. But this? This was an entirely new level of exhaustion.

  And Brynn wasn’t stopping.

  Her black hair was a mess, loose strands falling into her face as she flipped another page in her notes, still scribbling frantically.

  “You’re still talking to yourself,” Asher muttered sleepily.

  “I’m thinking aloud,” she corrected, barely glancing up.

  “You sound like a lunatic.”

  Brynn huffed. “That’s queen lunatic, thank you very much.”

  Asher snorted at that.

  He tried to stay awake—he really did—but the warm glow of the lab, the soft flicker of enchanted lanterns, and the sheer mental exhaustion from hours of study finally won.

  His body slumped forward, his arms folded on the desk as his breathing slowed.

  Brynn, still muttering something about Void-Aether interaction, didn’t notice until she, too, finally collapsed.

  Her journal was still open before her, quill slipping from her fingers. Her head tilted onto Asher’s shoulder, her breath warm against his arm as exhaustion dragged her under.

  They had more questions than answers.

  But for now, they were too tired to care.

  The door swung open with a casual kick.

  “There you two are.”

  Vicky stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, golden light flickering faintly in her hazel-green eyes as she surveyed the scene before her.

  Asher, barely dressed, knocked out against the desk. Brynn, half on top of him, dead asleep, her journal still open in front of her.

  Vicky let out a low whistle. “Wow. You guys look like a couple of scholars who forgot how to function as people.”

  Neither of them stirred.

  Vicky rolled her eyes before strolling forward, grabbing a handful of Brynn’s black hair and giving it a gentle tug.

  “Wake up, your majesty.”

  Brynn groaned, barely lifting her head. “No. Studying.”

  Vicky leaned in. “It’s three in the gods-damned morning. And you look like a zombie. Both of you.”

  Asher muttered something into his folded arms, half-conscious.

  Vicky sighed dramatically. “Alright, you stubborn nerds, you leave me no choice.”

  She grabbed Asher by the wrist, then wrapped an arm under Brynn’s shoulders before physically dragging both of them toward the doorway.

  Brynn let out a weak protest. “My notes—”

  “They’ll still be here in the morning,” Vicky grumbled, pulling them forward with surprising strength. “Now move before I decide to just knock you both out myself.”

  Neither of them had the energy to argue.

  Asher barely registered the fact that he was being dragged through the Aetheric College’s corridors. He only knew that, somewhere between the lab and his quarters, sleep finally claimed him completely.

  Asher was drowning in sleep.

  A rare, deep, comforting kind of sleep—the kind that made his body feel impossibly heavy, warmth cocooning him as if demanding that he stay under. His limbs refused to move, his mind drifted in the hazy in-between, and for the first time in days, he wasn’t thinking about Void magic, war, or Brynn’s endless gods-damned experiments.

  Then the world shifted.

  A sudden, ice-cold pressure wrapped around his wrist, the sensation jolting through his entire body like a splash of freezing water.

  His first instinct was to fight—he surged upward, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there—but before he could so much as blink, he was ripped from the bed with effortless force.

  His back hit the cold stone floor with a dull thud.

  “Wake up, master.”

  The voice was silken, hauntingly smooth, threaded with amusement and something almost dangerous.

  Asher groaned, his head lolling to the side as he blinked blearily up at his captor.

  Sylthara.

  She stood over him, her shadow-wings curling lazily at her back, the edges of her robes rippling as if woven from pure voidlight. Her hair, that endless cascade of midnight-black and violet streaks, tumbled over one shoulder, framing a face that was both ethereal and unnerving.

  But it was her eyes that truly captured him.

  Twin galaxies—violet and deep blue, swirling endlessly, flecks of silver stardust dancing within the irises like an ever-turning cosmos.

  She was otherworldly, beautiful in a way that defied simple comprehension.

  And she looked far too pleased with herself.

  Asher exhaled, slumping back onto the floor. “Sylthara, why.”

  She didn’t answer. Instead, the shadow tendrils wrapped around his wrist tightened, lifting him effortlessly onto his feet like he weighed nothing.

  “Training,” she said simply.

  Asher glowered. “At this hour?”

  Sylthara’s tail flicked behind her, the arrow-tipped end curling in idle amusement. “It’s dawn.”

  “Which means the sun isn’t even fully up yet,” Asher grumbled, running a hand through his messy hair.

  Sylthara’s violet-blue eyes gleamed as her wings stretched slightly. “The battlefield doesn’t wait for sleepy kings.”

  Asher huffed, rubbing his face. “Gods, give me a second—”

  “No seconds.”

  She yanked him forward again, the shadows dragging him toward the doorway.

  From behind, a muffled groan rose from Brynn, who was cocooned in a fortress of blankets, her black hair an absolute mess against the pillow.

  “Too early,” she mumbled, voice thick with exhaustion. She halfheartedly reached out toward Asher’s disappearing form but didn’t even lift her head. “Someone kill her…”

  Vicky, who had been sprawled across an armchair, simply stretched with a wide, lazy grin.

  “Not it.”

  Asher shot her a betrayed glare as Sylthara dragged him out of the room.

  Vicky’s voice followed after them, mockingly sweet.

  “Try not to die before breakfast, lover!”

  The last thing Asher saw before the doors slammed shut was Brynn grumbling into a pillow, reaching blindly for her journal before passing out again.

  And then, before he could even curse his fate, the training grounds awaited.

  The training grounds of Aetherhold stretched wide before Asher, the air crisp with the morning chill, though it would not stay that way for long.

  The vast arena was lined with enchanted runes that helped withstand the destructive magic that warriors unleashed here. The ground bore deep scars from previous battles, cracks where fire had scorched, ice had frozen, and lightning had split the earth.

  Jorven and Dravyn were already waiting for him in the center of the field.

  Jorven, the weathered warrior, rolled his shoulders, his graying beard barely moving as he studied Asher with his usual, no-nonsense gaze. “You look like shit,” he remarked.

  Dravyn, the young and ruthless strategist, grinned. “You’re awake, at least. I thought Sylthara might have broken you before we even started.”

  Asher exhaled sharply, rolling out his shoulders. “You two love hearing yourselves talk, huh?”

  Jorven cracked his neck. “You’ll get over it.”

  Then he attacked.

  A single stomp sent a shockwave through the earth, the ground beneath Asher’s feet suddenly splitting open as jagged stone spires erupted toward him.

  Asher reacted instinctively—his palm slammed against the air, and the earth responded, the Void weaving into his magic, making the normally slow, steady element move like liquid shadow. The stone pillars froze in place, twisting into unnatural, jagged formations that obeyed him rather than Jorven.

  Jorven grunted. “Void magic stabilizing earth—interesting.”

  “Let’s see how it handles fire.”

  Dravyn extended a hand, and the air ignited. Flames roared to life, swirling toward Asher in a blazing inferno.

  Asher’s instinct was to counter with ice—but instead, he focused on the Void.

  The moment the two clashed, something strange happened. Instead of negating fire, the Void magic devoured its resistance, weaving the element into something new. The flames didn’t just extinguish—they darkened, turning into an eerie, shadowfire that bent to his will.

  Dravyn arched a brow. “That’s terrifying.”

  Jorven didn’t hesitate. “Keep going. Push him further.”

  And so they did.

  They tested everything—fire, ice, earth, water, aether—forcing Asher to react, to counter, to blend them together.

  Where most mages struggled with the natural resistance between elements—ice fighting fire, earth smothering air, aether clashing with void—Asher’s Void magic seemed to erase those barriers.

  He wove fire through water, turning steam into a pressurized weapon.

  He laced earth with shadow, making solid stone move like liquid.

  He mixed ice with flame, creating bursts of black frost that didn’t melt, but burned.

  It was exhilarating.

  And exhausting.

  Asher could feel it—the Void magic took more than the others. It didn’t just use his energy; it drained something deeper, something primal.

  By the time Jorven and Dravyn moved to wind magic—his weakest element—he was already breathing hard.

  Wind was different. It was unpredictable, untamed. The other elements followed logical rules—fire consumed, earth stood firm, water flowed.

  But wind?

  Wind danced.

  “Feel it,” Jorven instructed. “Wind isn’t just movement—it’s freedom. Stop trying to command it like you do with fire or earth. You can’t force it.”

  Easier said than done.

  Asher focused, reaching for the air currents around him, trying to push them—control them—but they resisted.

  It was like trying to grasp smoke.

  Dravyn watched carefully. “You’re too rigid. You need to—”

  Something clicked in Asher’s mind.

  Not command.

  Adapt.

  Instead of forcing the wind to move, he let it move through him.

  And suddenly—

  It obeyed.

  A sharp gust swirled around him, rippling through his hair and clothes. The magic felt wild, but not chaotic—it was alive, shifting with his breath.

  He exhaled, and the wind stilled.

  Jorven and Dravyn exchanged looks.

  “Not bad,” Dravyn admitted. “For a first attempt.”

  Jorven smirked. “We’ll work on it.”

  Asher swayed slightly, his body screaming for rest. The sheer amount of magic he had poured into the session had left his limbs like lead.

  But before he could even think about resting—

  A small figure darted forward from where she had been watching in silence.

  Lunira.

  She had been at the edge of the training grounds the entire time, watching with wide, eager eyes, gripping the hilt of a wooden training sword like it was the most important thing in the world.

  She practically bounced on her feet as she stepped forward, clearing her throat. “That was amazing, my king!”

  Asher managed a tired grin. “You’ve been watching the whole time?”

  Lunira nodded furiously, her brown hair bouncing with the motion. “Every second!” Then, before he could dismiss her, she steeled herself.

  “I want private training.”

  Asher blinked. “Private sessions?”

  “Yes!” Lunira straightened, determination radiating from her small frame. “I train with the knights every day, but I need more. I need to be better. I want to train with you personally!”

  Jorven folded his arms. “The girl’s got spirit.”

  Dravyn smirked. “Or suicidal ambition.”

  Lunira ignored them, her bright, unwavering gaze locked onto Asher. “Please.”

  Asher sighed, but he already knew his answer.

  How could he say no?

  “Alright,” he said, smiling. “We’ll start tomorrow.”

  Lunira beamed, absolutely glowing with excitement. “I won’t let you down!”

  Jorven shook his head. “Gods help us all.”

  Dravyn just laughed. “She’s your problem now.”

  Asher, despite his exhaustion, felt lighter than he had all morning.

  Because Lunira reminded him of something important.

  Not everything about war was loss and survival.

  Some things were about hope.

  ?? What do you think the Void Core actually is? Is it a weapon, a curse, or something far beyond mortal comprehension?

  ?? Kaelen and Elara had very different reactions to Asher’s power. Who do you side with—the cautious warrior or the adaptable tactician?

  ?? Sylthara hinted that the lost civilization failed to stop the Corruption. What mistakes do you think they made, and can Asher avoid repeating them?

  ?? With war looming, how should Asher prepare? Focus on training, diplomacy, or something else entirely?

  New Chapters Every Saturday! ??

  Expect 1-2 chapters each week as we dive deeper into Asher’s struggles, victories, and the mysteries of the Void. Don’t forget to follow so you never miss an update!