"You have my memories, they will guide you. The magic in your body isn't ordinary. I've already reached the late stages of the peak of elemental wizardry."
"I was heralded as a genius young wizard of the Drenaeus House, and I was engrossed in honing my skills that I was completely caught off guard by my brother. The toxin is called bleak blight. A very dangerous poison, and I don't even know how he got his hands on the item."
"So you have to quickly adapt to my body and learn all the things there is to it."
"My memories will come to you in fragments. The process has already begun." The spirit was now barely cohesive, its form dispersing more rapidly. "Even I was not fully aware of what happened. I believe the eclipse facilitated the convergence, but the exact mechanics are known only to the most ancient of beings."
Jarkan attempted once more to rise, and this time managed to prop himself on his elbows, though the effort cost him dearly. "This convergence—you said it happens rarely?"
"The complete alignment of celestial bodies across multiple realities occurs perhaps once in a millennium," the fading voice explained. "You come into this world because this world has a close resemblance to your world, and the family, too. It is almost identical."
"And what of your life here? What will people think when I know nothing of this world, of them?"
"The physical transition will grant you time. You will appear to have suffered grievous magical backlash from a spell gone wrong. Memory loss will be expected." The spirit was now little more than a crumbling collection of light motes.
"Don't say anything about what happened here or to us. Keep this to yourselves. Trust no one and don't hesitate to kill anyone who points a dagger at you."
Jarkan felt a sudden stabbing pain in his temples as unfamiliar memories began to surface—visions of towering spires wrought of crystal, of beings with eyes like molten gold, of energies that twisted and flowed at the command of graceful hands.
"What am I becoming?" he gasped through the pain.
"Something new," whispered the dissipating spirit. "Neither fully Jarkanian nor fully Jarkan. A convergence as rare as the celestial event that made it possible."
With those words, the last remnants of Jarkanian's soul dispersed into the air, leaving Jarkan alone in the strange attic.
Outside, through the small window, he could see the eclipse passing, the first rays of sunlight, tinged with that strange violet hue, breaking free from behind the shadow.
Jarkan lay back on the floor, exhaustion claiming him as his mind struggled to accommodate the flood of alien memories. His last thought before unconsciousness took him was of Elian—the child he had loved as his own, now beyond his reach forever. Or was he? If worlds could converge once, perhaps they could do so again.
Can I go back to my world? I should have asked him.
In the quiet attic of the house, as the eclipse faded from the sky, Jarkan—now inhabiting the body of Jarkan Drenaeus—began the long journey of becoming something neither world had ever seen before.