Of all the ranks, entry into Grade Two was the most accessible.
It didn't demand force or finesse—it demanded understanding.
A deep, unshakable awareness of one's Aether, or more precisely, of one's birthmark.
When Zephyr first awakened, the world had etched that mark onto his dominant hand—an inscription not of ink, but of truth. A reflection of how the world perceived his Aether—no, his very existence. His desire, branded into the fabric of his soul.
The first word that emerged was Jailer.
He didn't awaken the Demios Clan's fabled black flame. His desire had twisted his Aether, bent it into something entirely different—space.
When he received the Art: Limbo — Border Jail, Zephyr hadn't understood it at first. But during his clash with Lunethra, he realized something inside of him. He had accepted the role the world had carved for him—not a prisoner hiding behind the bars, but a jailer. A force that bound others, not one to be bound.
