Chapter 108: Shadows of the Past
It began with a dream.
Caelum stood in a cold white lab, the sterile scent of mana-enhanced steel and holy residue clinging to the air. Scientists in robes with blank expressions circled him like vultures, voices murmuring over his pulse, his readings, his "instability." No names—just numbers. No warmth—only tests.
"Too volatile."
"Failed synchronization."
"Another loss."
He woke with a start, breath ragged, eyes flaring with light. His room glowed faintly, objects around him coated in the residue of uncontrolled holy power. He clutched his head. His chest felt tight—like something inside was trying to claw its way out.
Volundr found him minutes later in the courtyard, standing barefoot in the grass, fists clenched, light leaking from his fingertips like bleeding wounds.
"They made me this way," Caelum growled, voice low and trembling. "They built me to be a weapon... and when I couldn't meet their expectations, they threw me away."
The glow spiked violently—Aether Frame tried to manifest but came in fractured bursts. Blades, gauntlets, whip forms all half-formed and crumbling. The light was turning against him.
"Then let's see what that weapon can do," Volundr said calmly, drawing a training blade from his waist. "If you want to burn—burn with purpose."
Caelum hesitated—then let out a scream of frustration and charged.
What followed was not just a spar—it was a storm. Caelum lashed out with raw constructs, unstable and wild. Volundr met him blow for blow, parrying, guiding, redirecting—not overpowering, but anchoring.
"You are not their failure," Volundr said between strikes. "You are your own fire."
That struck something deep.
Caelum staggered, panting. The light flared one last time—but instead of exploding outward, it folded inward, compressed, stabilized. His heart slowed. His mind cleared.
From that stillness, Aether Frame reformed—clean, brilliant, even. The gauntlets were now smooth and symmetrical, lines of light running through them like veins. The blade and whip reappeared in a perfect shift, no longer flickering but flowing with rhythm and grace.
"You were forged in pain," Volundr said, lowering his sword, "but you choose what that pain becomes."
Caelum sank to his knees. The tears weren't of weakness—they were release. Not just of pain, but of acceptance.
That night, Aether Frame did not just rest—it resonated. Its glow no longer clashed with Caelum's spirit. It pulsed in harmony.
His past hadn't disappeared—but for the first time, it didn't control him.
He controlled it.