✦ Knights Academy – Headmaster's Office ✦
Orion gently patted Elynas on the head, his touch warm and reassuring.
"Since you're attending the Knights Academy now," he said with a soft smile, "make sure you enjoy every moment—and learn as much as you can while you're here."
He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her in a quiet, brotherly hug—one that made the world feel still, if only for a second.
"I'll always be here," he whispered. "If you ever need anything... just come find me."
Then, with a flick of his hand, he fastened a gleaming Royal Emblem onto her uniform.
The insignia shimmered like a promise.
Elynas's breath caught. A blush crept onto her cheeks—not from embarrassment, but from the quiet weight of being seen, valued.
She nodded slowly, clutching the edge of her sleeve.
"I will… thank you."
Behind them, the Headmaster cleared his throat with exaggerated patience.
"I am still here, you know."
He stepped forward and placed a hand firmly atop Orion's head.
"You don't need to shoulder everything, boy. While I remain Headmaster, she's under my protection too."
Orion chuckled, eyes flicking toward his father with just a trace of mischief.
"Yes, Headmaster."
---
✦ Womb of Arian ✦
Far below, in the depths where roots of worlds once touched, the Womb of Arian breathed quietly in sorrow.
Seraphyx knelt in the heart of the sacred grove, drinking in souls through the ceremonial kettle cradled in his arms. Each one entered him with a faint shimmer, settling into peace within his being.
The silence wasn't empty—it was full of those who had passed.
"How long will it take to create new ley lines, Kaelya?" he asked, his voice dry, drained—like a wind whispering through a broken temple.
Kaelya approached, her steps barely rustling the grass. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, frowning thoughtfully.
"About another month," she sighed. "If Nyxhara wasn't bound to Teyvat, we could've used alternate aetheral links. But now… we're forced to create ley lines from scratch."
Seraphyx grunted, lifting the kettle again and taking another soul-swig. The flickering glow at his chest dimmed, just slightly.
"Why didn't the Dendro Sovereign create new ley lines before merging this realm?" he asked, bitterness lacing the question.
Kaelya exhaled. "As if I could guess what goes through the mind of someone of the same title as Mother Rosen, A Sovereign."
Without warning, Seraphyx slumped forward, falling onto the grass in silence. The kettle tipped—but he still held it.
Kaelya rushed forward, catching him mid-fall. She cradled him gently, letting him rest against her.
"I told you to ask for my help if it became too much," she whispered, brushing sweat from his brow.
But Seraphyx didn't answer.
THE LOSS OF CONSCIOUSNESS.
" I can't feel my body… This feels like a dream…" He thought in his subconsciousness.
Kaelya tried to pry the kettle from his hands, but even in sleep, his fingers tightened. He still drank—his soul acting on instinct, still trying to give peace to the dead.
And all Kaelya could do… was hold him close and listen to the silent hum of grieving souls beneath the soil.
She sighs and get up,"Well atleast the Death Rate is only 1 death every 3-4 hours. I would try to Make it slower in Arian, So you can have more rest..."
✦ Aethercastle — Training Chamber ✦
The room hummed with silence, broken only by the soft echo of footsteps pacing over polished stone.
Orion moved back and forth, the cold glint of a Cryo-forged sword gleaming in his hand. A gentle frost lingered in the air around him—crisp, like the breath of early spring, cooling the chamber with its steady presence.
But the chill in the room wasn't what had him uneasy.
His brows were furrowed, his grip unsure.
He stared at the sword like it was both a stranger and a memory.
The door creaked open, and Queen Minerva stepped inside.
She took one glance at him and sighed, folding her arms.
"What's troubling you this time, son?"
Orion didn't stop pacing. "Crown Ignarion says I'll never grow stronger unless I learn to love my sword."
He paused, voice tightening. "He says that without that… everything else is just empty movement."
Minerva raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. "And what part of that confuses you, exactly?"
"I don't know how to love a sword!" Orion blurted, turning toward her, eyes conflicted.
"How can I love something that has only taken things from me?"
Minerva didn't answer right away. She reached forward and, like a practiced ritual, tugged sharply on his ear.
"OW—Mother!"
"I told you. No more dangerous nonsense," she muttered, letting go with a huff. "But clearly, you never listen."
She eyed the sword, then her son.
"Well... if you want my advice," she said, softer now, "you can't love anything unless you fill it with meaning."
She stepped around him, hands clasped behind her back, looking toward the frost-kissed windows of the chamber.
"I know what this is really about."
Her voice lowered. "You see her when you fight, don't you?"
Orion looked down, jaw tight. The sword in his hand shimmered faintly in response.
Minerva turned back to face him. Her eyes, once fierce, now held a mother's quiet ache.
"You still see Frieda in your swordplay. And that's fine. That's beautiful, even."
She stepped closer, resting her hand lightly on his shoulder.
"But son… you have to see the sword, too. See what it is. What it isn't."
She tapped the blade gently with her finger.
"This is not her hand. And it never will be."
Orion closed his eyes. The weight of the sword suddenly felt heavier—and clearer.
"But if you choose to hold it anyway," Minerva said, stepping back, "then give it meaning. Make it yours—not a memory of what you lost, but a symbol of what you'll protect."
She turned and made her way toward the door.
"And maybe," she added, voice fading behind her, "when you stop trying to fight like you're holding on to the past… you'll finally start forging a future."
The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Orion stood in silence.
The frost around the sword glimmered faintly—like it had heard her, too.
✦ Somewhere Peaceful, Outside Aethercastle ✦
Orion sat at a small table under the blooming crystalfrost trees just beyond the castle grounds. The sun had begun to set, casting golds and violets across the sky like someone spilled royalty all over the clouds.
Across from him, in the second seat, was…
…a sword.
Propped elegantly on the chair.
Polished. Poised.
Silent. Deadly.
Judging him.
He cleared his throat.
"This is stupid."
The sword didn't respond. Obviously. It just… glinted in the fading light. Condescendingly.
Orion sighed and reached across the table, adjusting the tablecloth like that would somehow make things less ridiculous.
A tray sat between them with steaming dumplings, a bowl of chilled mistfruit, and a glass of snowbloom tea—because of course the sword liked Cryo cuisine. Right?
"I don't even know your name," Orion muttered. "Do swords have names? Ignarion names all his weapons like they're his pets. 'Whisperfang,' 'Spine-Eater,' 'Lady Daggerina the Third'—it's weird. But he's strong, so."
The sword shimmered faintly in the light again.
"...Okay. Maybe not Lady Daggerina, then," Orion muttered, embarrassed.
He picked up his tea and took a sip. The silence between him and the blade was… tense. Like a first date that was somehow your soul's midlife crisis.
"I know I'm supposed to love you," he said at last. "That you're more than just steel. That to truly wield you, I have to… connect with you."
His fingers brushed the hilt gently. A faint pulse of Cryo energy whispered up his arm.
"And I guess… that means seeing you for what you are. Not Frieda. Not a ghost. But you."
The wind rustled through the crystalfrost blossoms, and for a moment, something shifted.
Orion swore the sword felt warmer.
Not in temperature. Just… presence.
He stood, stepping around the table. Slowly, respectfully, he reached for it—and this time, when he lifted the sword, it didn't resist.
No cracking cold, no stubborn chill.
Just a perfect balance. A weight that settled with him instead of against him.
"…Okay," he whispered. "Let's try this again."