The Empire stood upon five immutable pillars.
Four Ducal Houses— Nimeryus in the East , vaelaris in the North, Solmeros in the South , in the West Lyndorias—and at the center, House Aurelyon the Imperial bloodline.
Each House bound its fate to the Emperor through a legitimate consort, sealing alliances, oaths, and ambition alike. From these unions were born sons who, once every ten years, were sent to the Imperial Magic Academy.
Officially, the Academy existed to train the elite among mage-warriors.
In truth, it was something else entirely.
A closed arena.
A crucible where heirs faced one another without armies, without titles, without protection from the outside world.
A place designed to reveal a single survivor worthy of the Obsidian Throne.
Aerys stepped out of the bath.
Steam still lingered in the chamber, veiling and unveiling his reflection in the polished mirror. He froze.
His heart tightened.
Where once stood a frail, almost sickly body, there was now a balanced and solid frame. His shoulders were straight, his musculature dense without excess, every movement controlled and precise.
Yet that was not what unsettled him most.
His silver hair gleamed like a moonlit cascade.
His eyes—deep amber—burned with an incandescent golden light.
The unmistakable marks of the Aurelyon bloodline.
"Was this your doing… Ancient Voice?" he whispered.
A resonance stirred within him, like a breath rising from the depths of his bones.
Your body was not changed. It awakened.
I merely guided what already slept within you.
Aerys frowned.
"Awakened… You mean you reshaped my nexus?"
The Nexus is the focal point of convergence, serving as the central node for the circulation of Essence in the body — the magical energy present everywhere — enabling amplification, transformation, and domination.
Essence shapes all things.
I loosened the bindings, harmonized your breath, aligned your fibers.
The rest comes from you.
The words were neither cold nor mechanical. They carried an ancient solemnity, like prayers once spoken in a forgotten temple.
Aerys donned a dark tunic and moved to his desk.
His shelves were nearly empty—only a few elementary treatises on Essence circulation. The greater grimoires had always been denied to him.
Vipers…
The consorts had not only condemned his mother to poison. With her final breath, they had torn a vow from her:
that Aerys would learn no martial or magical art before the Academy.
Had the Emperor not intervened in secret—sending him a single meditation manual—his veins would have hardened, his breath withered. Any path of ascension would have been forever barred.
He pulled an old manuscript from the shelf: Basic Essence Flows.
"What should I do?"
Open it.
Let your eyes pass over the symbols. Do not analyze. Receive.
Hesitant, Aerys turned the pages one by one. The faded ink seemed to pulse faintly.
When he reached the final page, a shock tore through his mind.
Blazing runes burst into his vision.
Crimson lines, like rivers of fire, illuminated his inner sight.
A network of meridians unfolded—precise, alive.
The flow is mapped.
Allow your veins to reveal their paths.
He staggered. Golden lightning struck his thoughts with every heartbeat. Cycles of breath, nodes of power, points of convergence etched themselves into him like tattoos of light.
Then, as suddenly as it had come, the vertigo faded.
Aerys gasped, stunned.
"I… I know all of this."
"Without reading a single word."
Men copy and pass knowledge down.
I correct and reveal.
Some paths were flawed. I restored the river whole.
Aerys remained silent.
What he had believed to be something refined through generations of masters, had been surpassed—not by a book, but by something bound to his very Its being..
A slow, hardened smile formed on his face.
In the mirror, his amber eyes burned like twin embers defying the dark.
I will never be prey again.
For now, the throne was not his concern.
This was a time for survival.
Yet deep within, Aerys knew—
a day would come when the imperial heirs would bow. Not to his name, but to the power he had forged in silence.
And when that day arrived, the Empire would tremble.