Years went by.
By the time I turned six, people were starting to talk about Leonhart Edevane. You could hear whispers at the Academy, rumors in royal gatherings, and quiet stares at parties. I wasn't just the heir of House Edevane—I was the "crystal breaker," the "multi-affinity child," born with a power that didn't seem right.
But having power draws eyes, and in a world filled with politics and danger, that's not always a good thing.
Inside our estate, hidden behind the fancy pillars and old magic chandeliers, I was being molded. Trained.
I woke up early for sword practice, learned to manipulate Aether by noon, and studied everything from manners to math, foreign languages to history, philosophy—and then I'd meditate before bed, trying to understand the elements within me.
At first, fire was easy. It was wild like my childhood temper. It flared when I was mad, danced when I was scared. Wind came next—quick, slippery, yet willing to listen. Shadow was different. It didn't move like the others. It just watched. It seemed aware.
Sometimes, I'd sense it reacting even when I didn't call it.
But that's when the dreams started.
I found myself in dark hallways. There's a mirror, but it didn't show me—only Edward. Older. With empty eyes. Still stuck in that room, still playing games. Still… broken.
"Are you really free?" he'd whisper. "Or just running away again?"
I'd wake up gasping, soaked in sweat.
I wanted to believe I was saved in this new life. That being reincarnated meant I could be someone strong, someone important. But the trauma from my past hung around me like a shadow I couldn't shake off.
Elira noticed.
"You sleep like a soldier, young master," she said one morning as she dressed me. "Like you expect war even in your dreams."
I gave her a weak smile. "Maybe I do."
She paused, looking concerned. "You don't always have to be strong. Even lions need their rest."
But I couldn't rest. Not yet.
Things were changing.
One night, I accidentally overheard my father talking to someone in the war room. I shouldn't have been there—I just followed the raised voices.
"…he's too dangerous, Reinhard. That kind of power at his age? The Crown is watching."
"Let them watch," my father said firmly. "I won't hold my son back for their sake."
"He's just a child—"
"No. He's a weapon. And soon enough, the kingdom will need weapons."
There was a heavy silence.
"…Do you think war is coming?"
My father's silence weighed down like lead.
That's when I figured it out: my life wasn't just mine anymore. I wasn't being groomed only to inherit a name—but also to protect it, to fight for it, to bleed for it.
And maybe… to die for it.
But I wasn't scared. I'd already faced death once.
If this world wanted a monster, I'd become one—on my terms.
That winter, I started at the Royal Academy of Arcane Warfare—where noble kids, top mages, and sword masters were trained to lead and defend the kingdom.
I was the youngest ever accepted.
The welcome wasn't warm.
Noble kids whispered behind my back. Older students saw me as a threat. Some teachers looked at me like I was a ticking time bomb.
One instructor—Master Arviel, the sword teacher—said it straight: "You're gifted, boy. But gifts mean nothing without control. A wildfire can hurt both friend and foe."
His words stuck with me.
Control.
That's what I lacked in my past life. That's what I was trying to build now.
But not everything was dark.
I met her there.
Aris Valenhardt.
Daughter of a fallen noble family. Silver hair, eyes like storms, and a sword sharper than her tongue.
She challenged me on my first day.
I was just walking into the dueling area when she stepped in my way.
"You're the shadow-born," she said, tilting her head. "Let's see if you're worth the talk."
I didn't want to fight. But something in her gaze—the same hunger I felt—made me draw my weapon.
The duel felt like it lasted hours.
Swords clashed. Aether erupted. Wind whipped around. Fire met frost. In the end, we were both on our knees, panting, bruised, but grinning.
She laughed first.
"You're not half bad."
"Neither are you," I replied.
That was the start of our strange friendship.
She didn't pry into my past, and I didn't pry into hers. We both had our scars. But at the academy, among all the pressure, she treated me like a person—not a project.
And for a while, I felt something I hadn't since my old life.
Peace.
But peace doesn't stick around.
On my twelfth birthday, everything changed again.
A letter arrived. Sealed with black wax. No return address.
Elira handed it to me, a little shaky.
I opened it.
It simply said:
"The shadows remember. They are waiting."
Before I could react, the paper ignited in my hand, turning to ash—no trace of magic left.
But I felt it.
Aether… tainted. Familiar.
It was the same feeling from my dreams.
That night, I stared at my reflection in the mirror.
The image looking back at me… smiled.
But I didn't.
To Be Continued…