The Arcane Tides

Slowly, Kaelan backed up until he leaned backward, spine resting on the grand oak. His brought his gaze upward as he folded his arms, peering into the great limbs of his favorite napping spot. He worried his bottom lip into his teeth, chewing it lightly as he tried to recall what had happened. If this wasn't some elaborate, after death prank by the Gods...it was thirty years into the past. Years before his family had died. Before the demon invasion. In fact, if he remembered correctly...humans were mostly on friendly terms with Malakar and the demon horde. They stuck to their business and the humans did as well- that meant there was a tentative peace between both races. He frowned, closing his eyes. Trying his best to remember all that had happened

He remembered being captured by slavers after leaving the ruins of Ashwood. He remembered being sold to a count- a right piece of shit if there ever was one. It was there, during one of his many beatings, that his eyes had begun to glow softly, revealing his affinity for Aether. He'd been sold to the Witch Lirael, one of the three Archmages in Aumber Vale. How he'd hated being bought and sold like merchandise. But less than a week after his purchase, she'd freed him. She'd promised to teach him to use his magic to become strong, so that he could get the revenge he'd wanted. He'd had a very average ability to pull Aether in- so average that it brought worry lines to his masters face. However, those soon faded when he was proven to have quite the unique characteristic.

Aetheric Creativity.

No, it wasn't some ability that gave him great boons- rather it was a descriptor of his own mind. He'd bent every thought he had on killing demons, on finding those who'd led that horde to his family. As such, he'd found new ways to use Aether to fight. In his world, Aether was known to be used by channeling it through words expelled as weapons. Simply put, one might shout "Wind slash!" and by pulling the Aether into the body while doing so, the memory of the feeling of that attack would recreate its formation exactly, executing it through a blade of air. Kaelan did things far more dangerously- he didn't use phrases or gestures save for minimal ones. Flicking the finger or wrist. Instead of words, he used pictures in his mind to create his desired effect. Only through great trial and error did he master it, much to the chagrin of his master.

By the end of it, he was capable of magical things nobody ever thought possible. Things his enemies experienced in spades.

The battles he'd waged left ruin behind him- but its precisely why humanity had made him one of its four Archmages after the death of Grand Mage Porior. He was an anomaly, and he wore that badge with pride for it led to the death of thousands of his enemies, and through the force of his arms and the tactics he'd utilized on the battlefield, they'd finally begun to push the demon horde back. Until she showed up. He knew it was her, now, who had changed the face of the war. Only when she'd arrived on the battlefield did the retreat grind to a halt. Of course, it wasn't like humanity backed down, but the fighting became vicious, with every inch of ground in either direction becoming paramount to victory. The living died by the hundreds of thousands and no end appeared in sight.

He scowled.

How had he never heard of her before? From what he'd understood, the Demon King was without child so she couldn't be a daughter, could she? The only way would be if he'd kept her hidden, or she was a bastard child. Otherwise, she'd have had to kill the King to usurp his power and from what he remembered, nobody even came close to the level of Aether that creature could wield. He shook his head.

"Okay, enough of this."

It had been almost an hour since he'd woken up in his ten year old body. He'd been waiting, to see if something or someone would come along to collect him, having sent him back. Since nothing else was happening, he decided it was time to take a look around. Turning back to the tree, he reached out and rested a hand on it, almost as though thanking it. It was then, he saw the ring on his finger. He gasped, then brought his hand back. There, resting on his middle finger was a small ring made of silver. A simple band with a stone set around a diamond shape. Purple in color, swirling...just like the stone from the ear he'd cut off the Queen. He took the ring off slowly, as though expecting something to happen but nothing did. It sat there in his palm. He furrowed his brow before returning it to his finger.

No point in getting rid of it now. Best to figure it out later.

He looked back up at the tree one last time and turned, jogging down the hill. Ashwood was a poor village, made up of two dozen wooden houses and a simple but hardy people. Pig farmers, straw growers and harvesters of veggies and fruit were its staples. Through such things it was hard to grow rich and his family was no different. His name was also his family title- Kaelan Miller. The son of a Miller. His father took in grain from other farmers and used their mill to turn it into flower for bread and other such creations. It meant they were also blamed for simple thieveries and crimes but that came with the territory. He'd done a good job of ignoring them throughout his youth, focusing instead on his family.

As he jogged, he felt a lightning bolt of realization slam through him- his family. If he was 10, and this was truly thirty years ago...

His jog turned into a sprint as he raced through town as fast as his feet could carry him. There, on a small hill outside the village, sat his fathers mill. His home. Still fully intact, not a sign of ash or blood anywhere. He raced up to it, slowing to a jog as he reached the first steps leading up and finally a walk as he reached the top path to the door. He was breathing heavy, blinking away the fear- as he'd run through town, he saw all the faces of his past. He remembered them, and they remembered him. That meant they had to be here too, right?

"Excuse me Kael, darling."

He turned back and was hit by the sight of his mother.

He hair was pulled back, cascading down and over her shoulders. She wore a plain gown with a cream colored apron on the front. She held a basket with both hands clutched against her stomach, filled to the brim with flour. He swallowed, searching her face. Her green eyes, deep auburn hair...he never really thought about how beautiful his mother was. He could only ever remember her face screwed up in anger then pain as she screamed-

"Kael? You alright?"

She set the basket down to the side and Kael, seeing the path clear, rushed forward into her arms. He clutched her for dear life as tears started pouring down his face.

"Mom-" he choked out.

"Oh my boy- what's wrong, little love?"

He just shook his head against her, drinking in the smell and feeling of a mother he thought he'd lost forever. She wrapped her arms around him with a gentle smile letting out an "Aww" and scooping him up. Her belly was big, pregnant with the sister that had yet to come. She walked him inside, holding him with one arm and dragging the flour basket behind her and closing the door with him.