The incident in the garden didn't go unnoticed.
The next morning, Kairon summoned Raezion for a private lesson in the armory sanctum. The chamber was layered with sealing glyphs, mirror wards, and soul-tether anchors. Only the most dangerous training occurred here.
Raezion stood at the center, confused. "Why here?"
Kairon approached with a blank scroll and a blade.
"I need to test something."
"What?"
"Your blood."
With a sudden motion, Kairon sliced Raezion's palm—just a shallow cut—and let the blood fall onto the blank parchment.
At first, nothing.
Then the ink bled into runes.
Alien runes. Celestial. Forbidden.
The scroll ignited with silver flame, disintegrating instantly.
Kairon's hand tightened on his sword.
"That was not demonic. Nor draconic. That was…" He didn't finish the sentence.
Raezion stared at his palm—already healed.
"I don't understand," he whispered.
"You're not meant to—yet," Kairon said, sheathing the blade. "But know this: that power inside you—it's not just some slumbering thing. It remembers. And it will awaken."
Raezion looked up. "Will you try to stop me?"
Kairon didn't answer. He only turned toward the sealed mirror in the center of the sanctum.
It had never reflected anything before.
But now—Raezion's reflection shimmered.
Not as a child.
Not even as a demon.
But as a silver-eyed figure cloaked in cosmic flame, crowned with horns of crystallized starlight, wings like jagged voidsteel curving behind him.
Aeon Severance.
For just a moment, Raezion saw him—and in that moment, part of Raezion's soul flared with recognition.
Not fear.
Not shock.
But… welcome back.
---
That night, as Draemax curled beside his bed, she whispered:
> "You've cracked the seal."
> "What now?" Raezion asked.
> "Now," Draemax rumbled, "we watch who dares fear you—and who dares follow."