The butterfly danced just out of reach, its wings a kaleidoscope of orange and black against the summer sky. Lily's laughter echoed across the garden as she chased after it, her small feet kicking up clouds of dust in their modest backyard. From his perch on the rickety wooden porch, Elias watched his little sister with a mixture of affection and anxiety that had become all too familiar lately. Even these peaceful moments carried an undercurrent of tension he couldn't quite explain.

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across their small plot of land, the light filtering through the leaves of the old oak tree that marked the boundary of their property. Beyond it, the imposing silhouette of the city wall loomed, a constant reminder of the boundaries that governed their lives. The wall had stood for generations, its weathered stone a testament to the old laws, the old fears that still shaped their world.

Elias shifted uncomfortably on the worn porch steps, trying to ignore the strange tingling sensation that had been growing stronger over the past few months. It was like an electric current running just beneath his skin, a force that seemed to pulse in rhythm with his heartbeat. Sometimes, late at night, he would lie awake watching faint blue sparks dance between his fingers in the darkness. He had learned to hide these moments, to push down the power that threatened to spill out of him. The stories about children like him – the ones who could touch the Ether – always ended badly.

"Come play with me, Eli!" Lily called out, her seven-year-old face bright with joy. Her dark curls bounced as she jumped, trying to catch the elusive butterfly. "The butterflies like you better!"

She wasn't wrong. Lately, insects and small animals seemed drawn to him, as if they could sense the energy that hummed beneath his skin. Just yesterday, he had found a nest of sparrows on his windowsill, their tiny bodies huddled close to his room as if seeking warmth from an invisible fire.

"Coming, Lils," he called back, forcing a smile as he descended the creaky steps. The grass was cool beneath his bare feet, a stark contrast to the summer heat that hung heavy in the air. Their mother had tried to maintain a garden here once, but the soil was too poor for anything but the hardiest weeds. Still, patches of wildflowers had taken root, splashing the yard with stubborn bits of color.

The sound of voices drifted over the wall – neighbors going about their daily lives, merchants calling their wares in the narrow streets beyond. Their small house sat on the outskirts of the lower city, where the buildings grew progressively more cramped and the streets more twisted. It wasn't much, but it was home. Elias had memorized every creaky floorboard, every patch of peeling paint, every hidden corner where he could retreat when the tingling beneath his skin became too much to bear.

As he joined his sister in her pursuit of the butterfly, he caught a glimpse of their reflection in the kitchen window. At twelve, he was already tall for his age, all awkward angles and nervous energy. His dark hair fell into eyes that their mother said were the same shade of grey as the sky before a storm. Lily, by contrast, was all sunshine and movement, her small frame vibrating with endless enthusiasm.

"Look, Eli!" she exclaimed, pointing to where the butterfly had landed on a scraggly bush. "It's so pretty!"

The butterfly's wings caught the light, and for a moment, Elias saw something strange – a faint shimmer in the air around it, like heat waves rising from summer-baked stone. The tingling sensation intensified, and he felt a pull, an urge to reach out and touch that shimmer. He clenched his fists instead, forcing the feeling down.

Their mother's warnings echoed in his mind. She never spoke directly about the Ether or its power, but her cautions came in other forms. Don't draw attention. Don't stand out. And most importantly, never let anyone see anything unusual. He had caught her watching him sometimes, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and fear that made his heart ache.

The butterfly led them toward the old oak tree, its massive trunk scarred by generations of children's games. Elias remembered countless hours spent in its branches, reading borrowed books while Lily played below. The tree felt safe, as if its ancient presence could somehow shield them from the world's harsh realities.

Lily darted forward, her small hands reaching for the delicate creature that seemed to taunt her with its graceful flight. She was fearless in her pursuit, heedless of the uneven ground and exposed roots that twisted beneath the tree like sleeping serpents.

"Careful," Elias warned, noticing how close she was getting to the tree's massive roots. But his warning came too late.

Time seemed to slow as he watched Lily's foot catch on a gnarled root. Her arms pinwheeled as she lost her balance, and Elias saw with terrible clarity where she would land. The ground there was littered with sharp rocks, remnants of the old garden wall that had crumbled years ago. Their mother had always meant to clear them away, but there was never enough time, never enough money for such small improvements.

In that moment, everything changed.

The tingling sensation that had haunted him for months exploded into a surge of raw energy. It coursed through his body like lightning, setting every nerve ending alight with power he neither understood nor could control. Without conscious thought, he reached out toward his falling sister.

The air between them shimmered, and suddenly Lily wasn't falling anymore. She hung suspended in mid-air, surrounded by a soft blue light that seemed to emanate from Elias's outstretched hands. The light pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, and he could feel the connection between them, as tangible as a physical touch.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Lily hung there, her eyes wide with wonder rather than fear. The butterfly, still hovering nearby, left a trail of shimmering dust in its wake, the particles dancing in the ethereal light that surrounded them. The very air seemed to vibrate with energy, and Elias felt something shift inside him, as if a door long locked had finally swung open.

"Eli?" Lily whispered, her voice filled with awe. "Are you doing this?"

Before Elias could respond, a sharp gasp cut through the air. Their mother stood at the back door, her face drained of color, a basket of fresh laundry lying forgotten at her feet. Clean sheets spilled across the worn porch boards, but she didn't seem to notice. Her eyes were fixed on the scene before her, on the unmistakable evidence of what her son had become.

"Inside," she hissed, her voice trembling. "Both of you. Now."

The blue light flickered and faded as Elias's concentration broke, and Lily dropped gently to her feet. She seemed unharmed, but Elias barely noticed. He was staring at his hands in disbelief, watching the last traces of blue energy dance across his skin before fading away.

He had heard stories of the Ether, of course. Everyone had. They were whispered in corners of schoolyards, passed around like forbidden sweets. Tales of people who could manipulate the very fabric of reality, who could perform impossible feats with a gesture. But those stories always ended the same way – with the arrival of the Hunters, with disappearances and tearful families left behind.

Their mother hurried them inside, closing and locking the door behind them. She moved through the small house like a whirlwind, pulling curtains shut with trembling hands and checking the locks on windows. Outside, the peaceful afternoon continued, but inside their small house, everything had changed.

"Mom?" Elias's voice cracked. "I didn't mean to—"

"Shh." She pulled both children close, her embrace fierce and protective. Elias could feel her heart racing, could smell the familiar scent of soap and lavender that clung to her clothes. "Listen to me very carefully. What just happened – you can't tell anyone. Not your friends, not your teachers. No one. Do you understand?"

Lily nodded solemnly, but Elias could see the questions burning in her eyes. He felt them too, along with a growing sense of dread. The stories he had heard about the Children of the Ether weren't just stories anymore. They were his reality now.