The Summoning of Man

The morning came too quickly.

I woke to the sounds of voices, hammers against stone, the shifting of wood and debris as the settlement slowly came back together. The fires from the night before had burned out, leaving only faint wisps of smoke curling into the pale blue sky.

For a moment, I just sat there.

I wasn't used to waking up like this. Back home, my alarm would've jolted me awake, forcing me to drag myself through another school day. But here—

Here, I woke to a world still trying to survive.

A world that had already moved on from the battle, because it had no choice.

I pushed myself upright, feeling the stiffness in my limbs from a night spent on the hard ground. The golden light beneath my skin flickered faintly as I moved, still there, still waiting.

Still out of reach.

I exhaled through my nose, pushing down the frustration that threatened to rise. I couldn't afford to dwell on it. If I wasn't able to access my power right now, then I just had to focus on what I could do.

And today?

That meant helping rebuild the settlement.

By the time I made it to the heart of the settlement, people were already hard at work.

Elara was there, hauling supplies with a group of others, her braid swaying behind her as she moved. Revik stood near the remnants of a collapsed wall, barking orders at the younger men struggling to put up new support beams. Lena was off to the side, organizing food rations and making sure everyone had enough water.

They had all lost something.

But they weren't stopping.

I forced myself into motion, walking toward the first group I saw struggling with a pile of rubble. I didn't wait for an invitation—I just started helping.

The work was grueling. We moved debris, salvaged supplies, tore down unstable structures before they could collapse. The hours stretched on, sweat clinging to my skin, muscles burning with exhaustion. But strangely, I didn't hate it.

Because with every stone lifted, every wall rebuilt—I felt like I was doing something real.

I wasn't saving the world.

I wasn't tearing through reality.

I was just helping.

And for now, that was enough.

As the sun began its slow descent, the settlement was starting to look like a home again. Not perfect. Not whole. But getting there.

By the time night fell, a fire had been lit in the center of the settlement, much like the night before. But tonight, it wasn't just about grieving.

It was about continuing.

I sat with the others, the warmth of the fire cutting through the desert chill. The flames flickered against the faces around me—people who had once been strangers, but now felt like something more.

Elara sat beside me, close enough that I could feel the faint brush of her shoulder against mine. It wasn't much, but I noticed it.

She exhaled, stretching her legs out toward the fire. "You worked hard today."

I shrugged. "So did everyone else."

She smirked. "Yeah, but you didn't have to."

I hesitated at that. She was right. No one had expected me to help. They still weren't sure what to make of me, of what I had done in the battle. I could've stayed back, let them work, let them rebuild their world.

But…

That wasn't who I was.

"I couldn't just do nothing," I said finally.

She hummed softly in response, watching the fire.

Then, she glanced at me. "So. You've spent all this time in our city, and you still don't know what we call ourselves."

I blinked. "What?"

She raised a brow. "Our people. We have a name, you know."

I tilted my head slightly. "I figured. You just never told me."

She smirked. "You never asked."

I huffed out a short laugh. "Okay, fine. What's your people's name?"

She turned back toward the fire, the warm glow casting golden light over her features.

"The Kesather."

The name felt ancient.

Strong.

Like something that had been whispered through generations, passed down through war and survival, through fire and loss.

I repeated it under my breath. "The Kesather."

Elara nodded. "We're the last of what was once a much greater people." She gestured around. "This settlement isn't the only one, you know."

I frowned. "It's not?"

She shook her head. "There are millions of us. Not here, not on the surface." Her voice dropped slightly. "But underground."

I stared at her. Millions?

That number didn't make sense.

All this time, I had thought this was it. This settlement, these people. I thought they were the last survivors.

But they weren't.

"There are thirteen major cities," she continued, her voice quiet but certain. "Falseglen, Ironhelm, Valliers… and the capital."

I barely processed the names, my mind still reeling.

Each of these cities, she explained, was ruled by one of the twelve great clans, the leaders acting as both rulers and protectors. The Emperor himself resided in the capital, governing over the largest city—one with millions of people living beneath the surface.

They were connected through vast tunnel systems, stretching hundreds of miles.

And yet—

This was the only settlement above ground.

"Why?" I asked. "Why is this the only one?"

She was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, she said, "Because the surface isn't safe."

A simple answer.

But the weight behind it was undeniable.

I thought of the battle. The creatures. The void entity that had nearly consumed reality itself.

And suddenly, I understood.

The Kesather were hiding.

Because if they weren't—they wouldn't be alive.

The fire crackled. The night stretched endless above us.

And then, softly, Elara sighed.

She leaned her head against my shoulder.

My breath caught.

It was unexpected.

Casual. Natural.

And yet—

My heart started beating too fast.

She didn't seem to notice. "What about you?" she murmured.

I swallowed. "What?"

She shifted slightly, but didn't pull away. "Where are you from?"

I hesitated. Then, finally, I said, "A place that doesn't exist here."

She didn't question it.

She just nodded. "I was born here."

That surprised me.

I had assumed she—like most of the Kesather—had come from one of the underground cities. But she hadn't.

She had always lived on the surface.

I wasn't sure why that made my chest feel tight.

I exhaled slowly, trying to calm the strange rush of warmth in my veins.

I felt at peace.

The fire crackled, sending soft embers swirling into the night.

The warmth of it pressed against my skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat resting against my side.

Elara's head still leaned against my shoulder, her breaths slow and steady.

I tried not to focus on it—on the way her presence sent something strange pulsing through my chest.

Instead, I turned my gaze toward the stars.

The sky here was different. Endless and sharp. Back home, I had only ever seen the stars through the haze of city lights, a faint scattering against the deep black. But here?

Here, they stretched across the sky in brilliant, unbroken constellations.

It was beautiful.

And yet—

I felt small beneath it.

Because now, I knew the truth.

This world was bigger than I had ever imagined.

I wasn't just standing in the last remnant of civilization, a broken settlement clinging to survival.

There were millions of people out there, hidden beneath the earth in sprawling underground cities, connected by vast tunnel systems that stretched for hundreds of miles.

Thirteen major cities.

Each ruled by a clan, each overseen by an emperor.

And here I had been—thinking this settlement was the last of humanity.

I exhaled slowly, my fingers curling against my knee. "I still can't believe it."

Elara shifted slightly. "Believe what?"

I glanced at her, finding her watching the fire, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion but still sharp.

"That there are more people," I admitted. "I thought… I thought this was it. I thought the surface was all there was."

She hummed softly. "You're not the first to think that."

I frowned. "Why don't people come to the surface? If there are millions underground, why is this the only settlement up here?"

For a long moment, she didn't answer. The firelight flickered against her face, casting golden shadows over her skin.

Then, quietly, she said, "Because we don't belong up here."

I furrowed my brow. "What do you mean?"

She shifted again, pressing her knees up to her chest, her gaze flickering toward the sky. "The surface is dead, Josh. It's always been dead. The world above was never meant to be our home." She exhaled, her voice quieter now. "But some of us… we don't have a choice."

The words settled deep in my chest.

I thought of the battle, the creatures that had torn through reality itself.

The thing I had erased from existence.

And I realized, she was right.

The surface wasn't safe. It never had been.

And yet, they lived here anyway.

I watched the fire, my mind turning over everything she had told me.

Thirteen major cities.

Each ruled by one of the great clans.

I turned toward her again. "Which clan do you belong to?"

She blinked at me, then let out a soft laugh. "You really don't know how this works, do you?"

I scowled. "Would I be asking if I did?"

She smirked. "Fair enough."

She stretched out her legs again, tilting her head back slightly. "I don't belong to a clan. None of us here do. That's why we live on the surface."

I stared at her. "So the underground cities are just for the clans?"

She nodded. "And the people who serve them."

I frowned. "And the Emperor? He rules all of them?"

She let out a slow breath. "Yes. The capital is the heart of it all. It's the largest of the cities, the oldest, the strongest. It's where the Emperor reigns."

I shook my head slightly. "And you've never been there?"

She hesitated.

Then, finally, she said, "No."

The only life she had ever known was this one.

Survival. Isolation. The endless desert stretching in every direction.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

My chest felt too tight.

I didn't know why.

I didn't know why it mattered so much.

I turned back toward the fire, forcing myself to breathe.

Elara sighed beside me, shifting again—and then, before I could process it, she laid her head down on my lap.

I went rigid.

I stared down at her, my breath caught in my throat.

She didn't seem to notice.

Or if she did—she didn't care.

Her eyes were half-closed, the firelight casting soft golden hues against her skin. Her breathing slowed, her body relaxing against me.

I swallowed hard.

I told myself to move. To shift, to wake her up, to do something.

But I didn't.

Because for the first time in what felt like forever—

I didn't feel alone.

* * *

The fire burned low, its embers swirling into the dark, star-filled sky.

The weight against my lap was warm.

Soft.

Real.

I should have moved.

Should have shifted away, woken her up, put some distance between us.

But I didn't.

I just sat there, still, silent, not daring to move.

Elara's breathing was slow, steady. Her body had gone completely relaxed, her dark hair spilling across my lap, catching faint glimmers of firelight between its strands.

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry.

I had fought things that shouldn't have existed.

I had torn through reality itself.

And yet—

Nothing had ever made my heart race quite like this.

I turned my gaze toward the sky, forcing myself to focus on the endless expanse of stars stretching above me.

I wasn't supposed to feel this way.

Not now.

Not when I was still figuring out what I had become. Not when my powers still refused to respond, still felt just out of reach, only surfacing when I was on the verge of death.

Not when I was still lost in a world I barely understood.

But for just a moment—

For just this one night—

I let it go.

I let myself exist in this moment.

Just me.

The fire.

The cold desert air.

And the girl resting peacefully against me.

* * *

The night stretched on.

Most of the others had gone to sleep, scattered throughout the settlement, their quiet breathing barely audible over the whisper of the wind.

I could hear the distant shifting of the dunes, the faint rustle of fabric as people adjusted in their makeshift beds.

But mostly, I heard the soft sound of Elara's breaths.

The fire flickered.

She stirred slightly, pressing her face a little deeper into my leg, her body curling in a fraction tighter.

I stiffened.

Not because I wanted to move.

Because I didn't.

I exhaled, willing my heartbeat to slow, staring down at her. She looked… different like this.

Not that she wasn't always beautiful—because, let's be real, she was.

But normally, there was something sharp in her expression. A guardedness.

Something that had been shaped by years of survival.

Now?

Now, she just looked… soft.

Peaceful.

Like, for the first time in a long time, she had allowed herself to be vulnerable.

The thought sent an unfamiliar tightness through my chest.

I looked away quickly, trying to ignore it.

Instead, I focused on the stars.

They stretched out above us in brilliant, endless constellations.

Each one older than anything I could comprehend.

I wondered if they had watched the rise and fall of the Aetherii.

If they had seen the wars that had torn this world apart.

If they had watched me change.

The thought made my chest feel even heavier.

Because no matter how much I tried to push it down, the truth still lingered at the edge of my thoughts.

I wasn't human anymore.

Not fully.

I was something in between. Something incomplete.

And no one—not the Kesather, not the System, not even the stars above me—could tell me what that meant.

I clenched my fists.

My power was still out of reach.

Still locked away, only answering me when my life was on the line.

Like some cruel instinct that only woke when death was near.

I had rewritten reality itself.

And now, I couldn't even control what I had become.

The helplessness of it made my stomach churn.

I had no one to guide me.

No one to tell me how to fix this.

I was alone in this.

But…

I looked down at Elara again, watching the slow rise and fall of her breath.

I wasn't completely alone.

***

The fire had burned lower now, only faint flickers of warmth licking at the air.

The cold was setting in.

Elara shifted again, her brow twitching slightly, her lips parting in a barely-audible sigh.

And then, slowly—her eyes opened.

A sliver of deep, dark brown, catching the light of the embers.

For a second, she looked confused.

Then, her gaze shifted up—

And locked with mine.

Time… stopped.

I didn't move.

Neither did she.

Her expression didn't change.

She just… stared at me.

And I stared back.

Seconds passed.

Then, without a word, she blinked slowly, exhaled softly—

And closed her eyes again.

She didn't move.

Didn't pull away.

Didn't acknowledge what had just happened.

Like she had expected me to be there.

Like it was… normal.

Like it was okay.

I didn't breathe for a long moment.

Then, carefully—slowly—I let myself relax again.

And, finally—

I closed my eyes too.

I let out a slow breath, staring back up at the stars.

And slowly, I closed my eyes.

The fire crackled beside us. The world stretched endless around me.

And I fell asleep beneath the stars—

With a beautiful girl resting against me.