In the ancient world of Aetherion, where magic pulses like breath through the land and stars whisper forgotten truths, the Vrasnai stand as one of the most mysterious and enduring mortal races. They live for millennia—five thousand years or more—graced with elemental gifts that echo the forces of creation. Though they bear the features of humans, their eyes shimmer like moonlight, reflecting their attunement with the world's deep energies.
But within their already rare lineage, whispers tell of something even more profound—a legend of a child born not with eyes of the moon, but eyes like galaxies. A child with power vast enough to rewrite fate.
At first, it was only a myth.
Until Kazimir was born.
His eyes swirled with the cosmos, a kaleidoscope of violet and indigo, as if stars themselves had taken root in his gaze. And unlike any Vrasnai before him, his lightning wasn't golden or blue—it crackled like space itself, black and shimmering, as though the void had taken form in his hands.
Even as a child, his power was frightening.
So much so that his mother, Karah, the revered Zasia Vandor of Lightning, was forced to seal it away for his own safety. The darkness that stirred within him was far too wild, too ancient, to be wielded by one so young. But she believed in him. As he grew, she promised, he would learn to control it. He would rise.
And he did.
By the age of six, Kazimir had picked up a blade—on instinct alone. His tiny hands wrapped around the hilt of a practice sword, and he moved like he had done so in another life. Karah watched from afar, eyes widening, as he stepped through ancient forms with the elegance of a seasoned warrior. He was no ordinary child. He was a prodigy.
From that day on, she trained him personally.
And though pride swelled in her heart, it also cast a shadow on another: Jessie, Kazimir's older sister.
She possessed no strange lightning. No mythical eyes. No sealed potential waiting to be awakened. She watched, quiet and unsure, as her younger brother became the hope of the Vrasnai's future. And while she smiled, something in her ached. Would she ever be seen the way he was?
Kazimir never sought the praise. He simply wanted to grow stronger.
Years passed. By the time he turned seventeen, the seal his mother had placed on his power was no longer needed. He had earned control through discipline and resolve. His lightning now surged with intensity so potent it could evaporate the ocean waters that surrounded their homeland. Storms bent to his will, drawn across the skies from distant realms to answer his call. His speed was a blur, his sword a streak of raw, elemental fury. Every movement—precise. Every strike—unstoppable.
And then, a mark appeared.
A thin, violet line traced itself down his face—a sign. Not of injury, but of awakening. His hair, streaked with black and blue, now bore a celestial shine. His eyes—once merely like stars—had deepened into something divine. He had ascended, if only in part.
And Jessie, watching from the edge of the courtyard, felt something stir in her again—not envy, but determination.
She took up a blade herself. Not to match Kazimir, but to carve her own story in the shadow of the legend he was becoming.
Kazimir, meanwhile, continued his training beneath the lightning-soaked skies, guided by the woman who once sealed his power and now stood in awe of what her son had become.
A warrior.
A storm incarnate.
A legend in the making.