The air was still thick with the tension of decisions recently made as the group prepared for their next move. Thorian walked slightly behind Maelor, his eyes fixed ahead, but his mind racing. The path was leading them deeper into the forest, where the portal to Aether awaited. Maelor, sensing the weight of the silence between them, glanced over his shoulder at Thorian, his voice calm but curious.

“Ever traveled through a magical portal before, Thorian?” Maelor asked, his tone more probing than casual, as if gauging Thorian’s reaction.

Thorian didn’t miss the subtle intent behind the question. He gave a casual shrug, his hands resting in the folds of his cloak. “I’ve passed through a few. None that led to places as... welcoming as Aether, though.”

Maelor’s lips twitched, but he kept his expression neutral. “Aether’s not always welcoming, as you’ll find out soon enough.”

Thorian’s smirk was faint but present, catching the deeper meaning. “I’ve never expected otherwise.”

With that, Maelor turned, leading the group through the thick foliage of the Western Wilds, where the portal lay hidden in plain sight. The ground beneath their feet vibrated subtly with ancient magic as they neared the location, the portal rippling to life before them—an ethereal doorway of swirling energy, pulsing like a heartbeat in the air.

“Stay close,” Maelor said, his voice firm as he stepped into the shimmering veil of the portal. One by one, the group followed, the world shifting around them as they crossed from the wild forest into something far more structured, more controlled. Aether.

The portal spat them out on the other side in one fluid motion, and the difference in the air was immediate. The wild unpredictability of the forest had been replaced by something calmer, though no less potent. Aether’s magic was thick, almost tangible, humming under the surface like a low hum of energy.

Thorian’s eyes narrowed as he stepped out of the portal, blinking at the sudden shift in scenery. The sky above was streaked with hues of gold and orange as the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows over the towering spires and arches of Aetherum’s cityscape. It was a land of beauty and artifice, where nature blended seamlessly with magic, and the air itself seemed alive with power.

His lips pressed into a thin line as he took it all in. The structures were elegant, a mixture of ancient craftsmanship and arcane engineering. Statues of long-forgotten heroes lined the streets, and floating platforms carried citizens across the vast city. Aetherians of various races moved about, some glancing toward Thorian with curious, if not outright questioning, eyes.

He noticed a few of them lingering. Durath, Dwarfs, Pyronians, and even a few Sylphars like Taron, each casting furtive looks at the newcomer in their midst. There was no hostility yet, but Thorian could feel their unease. It didn’t bother him. Suspicion was something he was more than familiar with.

“Quite a place, isn’t it?” Taron said as he walked up beside Thorian, his tone lighter now, almost as if he were giving a tour. “Aether is always close to the edge of something new. The blending of magic and life... it’s constant here.”

Thorian cast him a sideways glance, unimpressed by the grandeur. “I’ve seen places with plenty of magic before. This one just has more polished edges.”

Taron laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’ll get used to it. Maybe even like it.”

“Doubt it,” Thorian muttered, though there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes as he scanned the surroundings again.

As they walked, Maelor, who had been leading the way with his usual commanding presence, kept a close eye on the interaction between Taron and Thorian. His expression was as unreadable as always, but every so often, there was a flicker of something on his face—a subtle shift, almost nostalgic. For a brief moment, as Taron spoke, Maelor’s gaze softened, though he quickly hid it behind his usual stoic mask.

Before the silence could grow too long, a familiar voice broke through the quiet.

“Aria!” A cheerful, energetic call rang out as Leira, the ever-vivacious Pyronian, appeared from around a corner, her face lighting up with joy as she rushed toward them. “I was starting to think you’d gotten yourself killed out there!” She stopped abruptly, noticing Thorian’s presence for the first time. “And... who’s this?”

Before Taron could respond, Ignis stepped forward, his expression hardening as he grabbed Leira by the arm, pulling her back slightly. “That’s none of your concern, Leira,” he said in a low, protective tone. His eyes flicked to Thorian with clear caution. “Stay close.”

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Leira wriggled out of his grip with an exaggerated eye-roll. “Come on, Ignis. I can handle myself. Besides, you’re always so overprotective.”

“You’re my sister,” Ignis retorted, his voice firm, though there was a softness in it that only family could bring out. “That’s my job.”

Leira sighed, stepping back but still casting an interested glance at Thorian. “Well, whoever he is, he looks... intense.”

Thorian couldn’t help but smirk, the dynamic between Ignis and Leira not lost on him. “I get that a lot,” he remarked dryly.

Taron shot Thorian a glance, but it was one of quiet amusement. “Leira, this is Thorian. He helped us out back in the Western Wilds.”

“Helped?” Leira raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “You don’t just bring anyone to Aether. Who exactly are you, Thorian?”

Maelor, who had remained silent until now, interrupted before Thorian could answer. “He’s with us for now,” Maelor said with authority, his voice leaving no room for debate. “But he will be meeting the Council soon enough.”

Zephyr, who had been following from behind, shook his head with a low whistle. “This is madness. You think the Council’s going to let a Shadow Celestial walk free in Aether?”

Leira’s jaw dropped, her eyes wide with shock as she looked between Zephyr and Thorian. “He’s a what?!”

Riven appeared beside her almost instantly, draping an arm over her shoulder, his face lit up with gleeful excitement. “Isn’t it amazing?” he beamed. “A real-life Shadow Celestial, right here in Aether! Think of the stories!”

Leira blinked, still trying to process the news. “Amazing isn’t the word I’d use…” she muttered, her gaze still fixed on Thorian in disbelief.

Riven gave her a playful nudge. “You’ll come around. Trust me, this is going to be fun.”

Taron crossed his arms, meeting Zephyr’s incredulous gaze. “They’ll listen. Thorian’s proven himself.”

Ignis wasn’t convinced. “Or they’ll see him for what he is—dangerous.”

Before the tension could rise further, Riven jumped into the conversation, eyes gleaming with excitement. “You guys are all missing the point. We get to meet the Council with a Shadow Celestial in tow. How is that not the most interesting thing that’s happened all year?” He grinned at Thorian. “You’ve got no idea what kind of fireworks you’re walking into.”

Thorian, unbothered by the chatter, met Maelor’s gaze with his usual calm. “Fireworks or not, I’ll deal with whatever the Council throws at me. I’m not exactly new to walking into dangerous situations.”

Maelor’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something—perhaps approval or perhaps a deeper calculation. “Just make sure you’re ready,” he said, his tone flat but carrying weight. “The Council isn’t known for second chances.”

Thorian’s smirk remained, confident as ever. “Good thing I’m not here to ask for one.”

As they neared the towering structure where the Council convened, the atmosphere grew heavier. The grand building loomed ahead, its intricate spires piercing the evening sky, casting long shadows across the path. The intricate architecture shimmered with the remnants of arcane energy, as though the building itself pulsed with the magic of Aether.

Maelor stopped abruptly, turning to face the group. His voice was firm, leaving no room for debate. “The rest of you will stay behind. I will present Thorian to the Council alone. I won’t tolerate any objections.”

His gaze flicked sharply to Riven, as if expecting resistance. Riven, already brimming with excitement, opened his mouth to protest, but Maelor’s look was enough to stop him. With an exaggerated huff, Riven crossed his arms over his chest like a petulant child. “Fine,” he muttered, puffing his cheeks in irritation.

Maelor nodded once, satisfied, before turning back to Thorian. “Let’s go.”

Thorian gave Maelor a brief nod. “Lead the way.”

They walked in silence, the tension thick between them, until they reached the large set of double doors that led to the Council chamber. The towering entrance was flanked by two familiar sentries: a hulking Goliath, his skin mottled gray like rough stone, and a Lizardfolk whose shimmering scales shifted between hues of green and blue, her serpent-like eyes sharp and ever-watchful.

The sentries greeted Maelor with a respectful nod, but the moment their eyes landed on Thorian, their gazes sharpened, and their bodies tensed into defensive stances, clearly on alert.

Before things could escalate, Maelor raised both hands, his voice calm but commanding. “Stand down. We have urgent business with the Council.”

The Goliath hesitated but gave a curt nod. He knocked on the heavy doors with a force that echoed down the corridor, then slipped inside. A few moments later, he returned, giving Maelor a brief nod of approval.

Without another word, the sentries pulled open the massive doors, revealing the chamber beyond, where the Council awaited.

“After you,” Maelor said, gesturing toward the entrance.

Thorian stepped forward, and for the first time in many years, a rush of emotions surged through him, unbidden and overwhelming. His body felt frozen, every muscle tense, as the weight of the moment settled in—his future, uncertain, about to be decided by those who had long turned their backs on his kind.

Thorian’s steps echoed through the grand chamber as he crossed the threshold. The vast room was bathed in the dim light of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the ornate floor. Seated at a semicircular table, the five members of the Council waited in stony silence, their faces unreadable, though the tension in the air was palpable.

Just as Thorian’s gaze swept over them, his presence finally registering with each one, Malachar, the High Arcanist, shot to his feet. His chair scraped violently against the floor as he slammed his hands down on the table with a force that reverberated through the chamber.

"Shadow Celestial!" Malachar bellowed, his voice a thunderous mix of fury and disbelief. The shock of it seemed to ripple through the room, his eyes locked on Thorian with an intensity that could burn stone.