"THALESSSSSSSSS!"
"You're okay! Where did you go? What happened to you!?"
Thales blinked, registering Beatrix's frantic energy like a thunderstorm barely held at bay. Her sobs were genuine, her posture riddled with guilt. She clutched his shoulders, searching his face like it might vanish again. Despite standing before her, he could feel her lament at losing him. In her mind, she had failed as his guardian.
"I have questions too," he said, brushing her off with cold precision. "But I doubt you're the one with answers."
His tone was detached but not cruel. There was reassurance in his stance, a steadiness that seemed to tell her he hadn't broken—yet he was undeniably altered.
Beatrix looked ready to protest, but Thales cut her off.
"I need to speak with Edmund."
She hesitated. "Shouldn't I be by your side? Don't you need someone with you in case conflict brews again?"
"I'll find you if I need you," he said. "You trust me, right?"
She frowned, paused—and finally nodded. She trusted that few could harm Thales in Ghalib Miray's own estate.
So Thales went.
"Edmund-sensei... I was in Historia. And I've never felt so sick in my life."
Edmund stroked his beard, eyeing the boy carefully.
"Young Thales, you're describing a non-physical affliction. One, I presume, that goes beyond simple psychological trauma?"
"It didn't hurt my mind," Thales muttered. "It was deeper than that. My very existence was... tampered with. And I don't mean metaphorically. I died. Multiple times."
He explained everything—the stolen memories, the executions, the unnatural resets.
Edmund's expression darkened.
"If that happened, it wasn't the state. You'd be dead with no return. For something like this, either a lower faction tried an experiment... or it was a foreign scheme. You're certain you weren't marked by the Three Councils?"
"They'd need full clearance to touch me, right?"
"Exactly. And your survival confirms that never happened. But... if you remember dying, then something or someone protected you. How did you escape?"
"My brother removed the Mobius Strip I was trapped in—just cut it off like it was some nuisance thread."
Edmund closed his eyes.
"Yes, I know who you mean. That master is... highly experienced. Your father must have negotiated with the Council of Remembrance—a rare unification of all three. In return, he owes them a favour. From Ghalib Miray, that's a high-value transaction."
"Wait, my father—?"
"House Miray is more than an experimental branch, Thales. It is tied to Great House Moirai, the court of the gods. You're not just a noble. You're something designed."
Thales's heart trembled. The word god—it felt distant. Alien.
"How did you survive before your brother's help?" Edmund asked.
"I was saved by... someone. A group, actually."
"Did they give a name?"
"They mentioned they serve the Great Kaiser. They called themselves the Lost Legion. One of them was Wolfgang Kael. He... well, he fought for me."
Edmund's eyes opened slowly. "Ah. Now it makes sense."
"You know them?"
"They're insurgents. Rising within Historia. Small enough to fly under the larger councils' radar. Wolfgang Kael... yes, the Dreaded Beast. They haven't captured him—he's elusive, violent, and surprisingly methodical. Some claim he's been operating for 30 to 50 years."
"...That doesn't make sense," Thales whispered. "He looked like a boy."
"Not all bodies obey time, Thales. Especially those moulded by chaos or artifice. Still, I'd advise you to keep away from that faction."
"I need strength," Thales said. "Where do I go?"
Edmund didn't hesitate.
"Seek out the Everspire or the Mnemonics. Especially the Mnemonics—they might help you with this existential plague."
Thales nodded. He remembered Loupe, the Sword Saint. Oblivion Walker? No, that wasn't quite right. But still, something to revisit later.
"I must attend to other matters. Farewell, Young Thales."
"Thank you, Edmund-sensei."
He embraced the older man like a child.
Edmund smiled faintly. "I will watch over you—if you can survive what nature brings."