All Chapters of Welcome to Aetherborn: Crushes, Curses & Creatures: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

Selene climbed into the strange metal carriage, the one they called a car. It hummed beneath her as it came to life, lights flaring like miniature suns. When it began to move, her breath caught. The ground didn’t shift like magic, it rumbled. The car glided across the long gray paths that stretched endlessly beneath the moonlight. She pressed her face lightly against the window, eyes wide with awe. The world of humans was alive in ways she’d never imagined. Towers of glass and steel rose like enchanted fortresses, glittering with thousands of glowing eyes. Strange rectangular lights flickered in the distance, signs, she thought and everywhere there were noises: the growl of engines, the hum of electricity, the rhythm of footsteps, the laughter of unseen people. And the roads, smooth, shining like rivers of stone divided the earth in perfect lines. These humans had built their own kind of order, their own kind of magic. But it was not born of nature. It was loud, mechanical, and pow

Headlights slashed through the living room curtains, washing the walls in white light. Selene flinched. Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. “They’re here,” he muttered. He walked quickly to the window, peeking through the blinds. The two men stepped out of their car, laughing nervously. Between them walked another man, tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a sleek gray suit that looked far too expensive for this neighborhood. His shoes gleamed under the moonlight. His face was calm, sharp, and calculating. Nathaniel’s heart sank. Dr. Redding. The scientist his friends had mentioned. He turned back to Selene. “Remember what I said. You’re just Serena. From Seattle. You know nothing.” Selene nodded, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. The golden glow that once shimmered faintly around her had dimmed; she looked more human now, vulnerable, yet regal in a quiet way. A knock came at the door, loud, confident, almost rehearsed. Nathaniel opened it. “Hey, Nate!” one of the men greeted, g

The great hall of the Aetherborn Thrones was a cathedral of light and judgment. Tall pillars of crystal rose like frozen fire, the air humming with the gravity of magic older than time itself. Selene stood in the center of the room, her wrists bound by chains that glowed with runes of pure restraint. Her once-radiant aura now shimmered faintly, dimmed by exhaustion and heartbreak. Before her sat six Thrones, the supreme rulers of Aetherborn, robed in silver and white. Their faces were carved from silence, their eyes like stars that had forgotten warmth. The High Throne spoke first, his voice resonating through the chamber: “Selene Emberlain, daughter of the Emberlain bloodline. You have broken the Sacred Law of Realms. You opened the forbidden portal to the mortal plane. You revealed our existence to humans. And worst of all, you birthed a hybrid child.” Selene’s lips parted. Her heart pounded. “What child do you talk about?” Then one of the Thrones, a tall man with a crow

The Hall of Judgment swallowed the last of Selene’s roar and returned only the thin echo of her footsteps. She stood at the dais, wind and embers licking the hem of her cloak, eyes blazing like a war-god’s. The Throne's presence, once distant and remote, cracked as if the very air around them had hardened. One of the Thrones rose. He stepped down from his seat with a slow, deliberate grace. He was taller than the others, his robe threaded with starlight and frost. When he moved, the torches in the hall dimmed, as if the light itself bent away from his authority. His face was not wholly human; it carried an ageless cruelty, a sculpted statue of justice. When he spoke, his voice was a winter that spread through bone and stone. “Selene Emberlain,” he said, each syllable measured and absolute. “What madness brings you to the Hall of the Thrones?” Selene did not bow. The word madness scraped like a blade. Her grief had hardened into something colder now, purpose forged of loss. She str

With a single word, Thalor summoned a portal, and they plunged deep beneath the realm. They traversed through tunnels of crystallized magic, past ancient ruins pulsating with an otherworldly glow, until they finally reached the Gate. It was monumental, an imposing stone archway intricately carved with the symbols of eternity, shrouded in roots and dust. The very air vibrated with its ancient power. At its center floated a black void, swirling with faint tendrils of purple light. "This is the resting place of the lost," one of the Thrones murmured reverently. "This is where gods fade into oblivion," echoed another. Selene stepped forward, determination etched into her features. "Then it’s time to put an end to this." They began the ritual. Seven Thrones formed a circle around the Gate, their divine energies intertwining into a single, radiant column of light. Selene stood at the center, hands raised high, calling upon the Aethercurrent. The atmosphere crackled with electric tension