Children of Aether

But there was something unsettling about it all. While many in House Solis viewed it as a testament to their ingenuity and dominance, to me, it often felt like a manipulation of nature itself—pushing boundaries that perhaps weren't meant to be crossed. I couldn't help but think, though: isn't that the point of life? To take control of order? After all, without order lies chaos, and chaos... chaos is something none of us can afford.

And yet, despite knowing this, despite the unease that settled in my chest whenever I thought too long about the origins of our power, here I was. A part of it. A living testament to the very practices I wasn't entirely sure I agreed with.

Was it hypocrisy to question it now, to feel unsettled while reaping the benefits? Maybe. But it wasn't as though I could change what had already been done. What mattered now was how I chose to carry the weight of that legacy.

"Bunch of test tube rats," Thesis snapped, his tone dripping with disdain.

Argon's gaze shifted toward him, his green eyes narrowing as a sharp edge crept into his voice. "I know the Veyrain would kill for even a fraction of the understanding we hold—our affinity for life and light aether, our genetic crafting. You cry, you whine, but it's not disdain that drives you—it's envy. Deep down, you wish you could wield the power we command. But you can't, so instead, all you do is resent it."

Thesis scoffed, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. "Power at the cost of humanity? That's what you call strength? You've twisted yourselves into something unnatural, Argon. Spliced species? Experimenting on your own bloodlines? For what? A faster healing rate, longer lifespan, and some extra strength?"

Argon rose from his seat, taking a deliberate step forward. His movements were slow but deliberate, his presence heavy. "Loss of humanity? What nonsense." His voice was calm, but it carried a razor-sharp edge that cut through the tension. "We are humanity, Thesis. We are its peak, its evolution, its future. You call it twisting, but I call it guidance. We don't wait for nature to stumble its way forward—we usher it. We don't follow order blindly—we control it. House Solis doesn't just survive; we endure. We've built a legacy that outlasts your empty ideals."

The air seemed to crackle with energy, the faint glow of their aetheric cores shimmering just beneath the surface. Thesis straightened, his expression cold, but his clenched fists betrayed the weight of Argon's words.

"You can justify it all you want," Thesis shot back, his voice quieter now but no less cutting. "But meddling with nature always has a price, Argon. Maybe you won't pay it. Maybe even your children won't. But it's coming, and when it does, your legacy won't matter."

Before Argon could reply, a sharp, unnatural whistling pierced the air, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. It was immediately followed by a heart-wrenching scream and a deep grunt of pain that morphed into something far more unsettling—raw, pain-filled laughter.

My head snapped toward the source, and my stomach twisted. Thesis lay slumped in his seat, clawing desperately at a jagged, black spike protruding from his chest. The spike glistened, slick with deep blue blood, which splurted rhythmically with each agonized heartbeat. With each continued beat, more blood sprayed out, splattering the stunned classmates sitting nearby.

For a moment, the room froze in horrified silence. No one moved, no one spoke—everyone seemed trapped in a collective haze, unable to fully process what was happening.

Thesis's breathing grew laboured, his clawing slowing until his hands fell limp at his sides. His screams faded into silence, leaving an eerie void in the air.

And then came the laughter.

"Hahaha…"

The sound made my skin crawl, pulling my attention to Argon. He sat slumped as well, his mouth twisted into a grimace as blood bubbled up from his lips. A matching spike jutted out of his abdomen, his once-proud form reduced to a gory mess. Yet even through the blood, he chuckled, his eyes flickering toward Thesis's lifeless body.

"I… knew it," Argon gurgled, his voice wet and broken. "They do cry like bitc—"

Before he could finish, a second black spike shot out of nowhere, impaling him clean through the chest. His words died in his throat, replaced by a sickening gurgle. Argon's body jolted once before slumping entirely, his laughter forever silenced.

The room was deathly quiet now, save for the faint dripping of blood pooling beneath their seats. 

Instinctively, I turned toward the source of the projectiles. Ms. Athena stood leisurely at the front of the class, her posture relaxed, yet the atmosphere around her was anything but. She spun and wove two more dark spikes between her fingers with an unsettling grace.

"That's enough," she said, her voice calm yet razor-sharp. "I asked for a discussion around a question, not a childish argument between my students."

The spikes in her hands began to dissolve, disintegrating into thin wisps of energy that vanished like smoke. Then, like a veil being pulled away from my eyes, the scene around us shifted. The oppressive weight of the moment lifted, and the room seemed to snap back to its original state.

Argon and Thesis were still slumped in their desks, but the dark spikes that had impaled them were gone. Slowly, they stirred, their eyes fluttering open. Their expressions were pale, almost sickly, as if they had truly experienced death itself.

Argon's breathing was shallow, and his usually confident demeanour was replaced by a haunted look. Thesis trembled slightly, his hands gripping the edge of his desk as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

"What... what just happened?" Thesis croaked, his voice barely audible.

"You both died," Ms. Athena said nonchalantly while her piercing gaze locked onto them. "At least, that's what it felt like. An illusion crafted to teach you the consequences of your actions. 

Argon's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white as he glared at her. "That felt... too real. You..." He trailed off, visibly shaken.

Ms. Athena's smile was faint but unyielding. "Good. It was meant to feel real. This is a lesson you won't forget."