The world outside the carriage window was a dream painted in shades of grey and green. A city of impossible spires and elegant, sweeping bridges carved from pale stone unfolded before me. It was nothing like the rough-hewn timber and mud streets of my village. Here, everything was… intentional. Beautiful, but cold. The rain had softened to a mist, catching the faint, ambient light from glowing orbs that lined the streets without any flame I could see.
Astralia. The name surfaced from Elian's memories, accompanied by a wave of his familiar anxiety. The capital city. The heart of the Meridian Empire. To him, it was a place of judgment and social pitfalls. To me, it was an alien landscape.
I watched people go about their lives. A woman with hair the color of embers argued good-naturedly with a street vendor. A group of children, their hands crackling with playful, harmless sparks of energy, chased a floating ball of light. A guard in polished armor walked past, his gaze sweeping the streets with an air of casual authority.
Life. So much vibrant, bustling life. It was a stark contrast to the silent, suffocating darkness of the coffin. To the memory of a demon's roar and my sister's scream.
Lyra.
The thought of her was a physical pain, a fresh wound in a heart that wasn't entirely my own. Was she safe? Had she survived? It had been my final moment, but for her… how much time had passed? A day? A year? A century? The thought was a dizzying abyss. I was trapped in a stranger's body, in a city I didn't know, while the one person I had sworn to protect was lost to time.
The warmth in my chest, the place where the dagger resided, pulsed gently. It was a soft, reassuring pressure, like a hand on my shoulder. It didn't speak, but the feeling was clear: I am here. You are not alone.
It was the only thing that felt truly mine.
Professor Helix sat across from me, silent and observant. He hadn't pressed me with questions, for which I was grateful. He simply allowed me to process, his kind eyes missing nothing.
"The mind needs time to reconcile," he said softly, as if reading my thoughts. "Two sets of memories, two lifetimes… it is not a burden many are asked to bear. Do not fight it. Observe it. The answers you seek about 'how' may lie in the space between them."
I nodded slowly, not trusting myself to speak. He was right. When I stopped trying to shove Elian's memories away and just let them exist, the chaos lessened. I didn't become Elian, but I could access his knowledge like pages in a book I'd read long ago.
I knew this city was Astralia. I knew the glowing orbs were Aether-lamps, powered by the city's core. I knew the man across from me was Professor Kaelen Helix, a respected, mid-level instructor from the legendary Astralis Academy, and that his intervention had saved me from a far worse fate at the hands of the city guard or the Baron's wrath.
But knowing facts wasn't the same as living them. The knowledge was flat, devoid of the emotions that should have accompanied it. Elian had been terrified of his father; I felt only a cold disdain for the man. Elian had longed for social acceptance; I couldn't care less.
The carriage eventually passed through a massive, wrought-iron gate, intricately crafted with symbols of stars, waves, flames, and shadows. The sounds of the city faded, replaced by the quiet rustle of ancient trees and the chirping of strange, melodic birds. We were on the grounds of the Academy itself.
We stopped before a building of smooth, white stone, ivy climbing its walls. It looked more like a serene monastery than a school.
"The Infirmary," Professor Helix said, alighting from the carriage. "You need rest, proper food, and a check-up from someone more skilled in bodily matters than I. Do not worry. You are under the Academy's protection now."
The Infirmary was quiet and smelled of clean linen and healing herbs. A woman with a no-nonsense expression and hair tied in a severe bun—Head Matron Valeria—ushered me into a private room. She clucked her tongue at my state, her hands, glowing with a soft, green light, hovering over my chest and head.
"Malnourished. Dehydrated. Severe spiritual shock," she muttered to Professor Helix. "The body is… stable. Remarkably so, given the spiritual trauma. There's a strange resilience to it." She gave me a curious look. "Elian Von Crest was never known for his resilience."
"He is not Elian Von Crest," Professor Helix replied calmly.
Matron Valeria raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. She handed me a set of simple, grey trousers and a tunic. "Bathe. Change. I'll have broth and bread sent in. You need to ground yourself in this body. Eat. Feel the floor under your feet. It will help."
The bath was a revelation. As the grime of the grave washed away, swirling down the drain, I felt some of the psychic filth wash away with it. The hot water soothed muscles that were both aching and unfamiliar. I looked at my reflection in the large, polished metal mirror on the wall, and my breath caught.
A stranger stared back.
The face was handsome, in a delicate, aristocratic way. High cheekbones, a straight nose, lips that seemed naturally inclined to a slight, brooding frown. The hair was a mess of damp, chestnut-brown curls. The eyes were the most disconcerting. They were a deep, stormy grey, and they held a pain and a hardness that did not belong to the boy they had once been.
This was Elian's face. But the soul looking out from behind those eyes was mine.
"Who are you?" I whispered to the reflection.
The reflection didn't answer. But for a fleeting second, I thought I saw a shimmer of silver deep within the grey of the eyes, a flash of the dagger' light. A reminder.
I am Aarion. I am the Oath-Keeper.
After I had dressed and eaten the simple, hearty food—the first real meal this body had likely had in days—Professor Helix returned. He carried a small, crystal orb in his hand.
"Feeling more… present?" he asked.
"A little," I admitted. "It's like wearing a suit of clothes that's two sizes too small. I'm in it, but it doesn't fit right."
"A apt analogy. It will… stretch, in time. Or you will grow into it." He placed the crystal orb on the small table between us. It was inert, clear as glass. "Aarion, what you did in the cemetery… manifesting a soul-dagger… is not a common feat. It is the sign of a powerful, resonant soul. I need to understand the scope of what we are dealing with. For your safety, and for the Academy's."
I tensed. "What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing strenuous. I want you to place your hand on the orb. Then, I want you to think of the dagger. Remember the feeling of it forming in your hand. The weight. The warmth. The… emotion behind it."
I looked at the orb with suspicion. It looked like a tool for judgment.
"It is a Resonator," he explained, seeing my hesitation. "It does not judge. It only measures the nature and intensity of a soul's energy. It will help me guide you."
Taking a deep breath, I placed my palm on the cool, smooth surface of the crystal. I closed my eyes and did as he asked.
I thought of the darkness. The panic. The feeling of my promise to Lyra being the only thing tethering me to existence. I thought of the whisper. "Breathe, my king." I thought of the desperate need to fight, to live, to protect.
The emotion that rose in me wasn't rage or a thirst for power. It was a profound, soul-crushing grief. Grief for the life I lost. Grief for the sister I left behind. Grief that was so deep it had to become something solid, something sharp. It had to become a blade.
A soft gasp from Professor Helix made me open my eyes.
The orb was no longer clear. It was filled with a swirling, luminous silver mist, shot through with veins of deep, sapphire blue. The silver was bright and sharp, like the edge of the dagger. The blue was the color of sorrow.
"Fascinating," Professor Helix breathed, his eyes wide. "The clarity… the purity of the emotion… It's not just a weapon. It's a memory. A piece of your soul, crystallized."
As we watched, letters and numbers flickered to life within the mist, hovering in the center of the orb.
SOUL RANK: F
BOND STAGE: Dormant
MANIFESTATION: Soul Dagger
CORE EMOTION: Profound Love / Profound Grief
"Rank F," I said, the term feeling familiar from some deep-seated knowledge. "That's low, isn't it?"
"It is the starting point for all who awaken their power," the Professor said, his gaze still fixed on the orb. "But Aarion, you must understand. Most who reach the F-rank have trained for months, even years, in meditation and combat to stir their soul to wakefulness. You… you achieved manifestation while in a state of spiritual death, with no training whatsoever. You did not climb to the starting line. You awoke already upon it."
He finally looked at me, his expression a mixture of awe and deep concern. "The energy signature… it's unique. I've never seen a manifestation so tied to a dual emotion. Love and grief, two sides of the same coin. This is the source of your strength. And it will be the source of your greatest trials."
He waved his hand over the orb, and the display vanished. "The Academy has Four Houses, each aligned with a different aspect of soul energy. Pyra for passion and destruction. Aqualis for flow and healing. Lucent for order and truth. And Tenebris…" He paused, his eyes lingering on me. "Tenebris for shadow, potential, and secrets. I have a feeling, when the official placement trials occur, that is where you will find your home."
He stood up, collecting the orb. "Rest now. Tomorrow, I will begin the process of having you enrolled. Officially, you will be Elian Von Crest, a noble son seeking education after a… prolonged illness. It is the only identity that will grant you access and keep prying eyes from asking too many questions."
The name felt like a shackle. "For how long?"
"For as long as it takes," he said simply. "For as long as it takes for you to learn who you are now, and for us to understand why you are here."
After he left, the room felt immense and empty again. The grey tunic felt like a prisoner's uniform. I walked to the window and looked out at the sprawling, moonlit campus of Astralis Academy. Towers pierced the sky, and I could feel the thrum of power in the very air. A place of knowledge. A place that might hold the answers.
I looked at my hand, the one that had held the dagger. I concentrated, trying to summon it again. Nothing happened. It wasn't a tool to be called on command. It was a part of me that emerged only in moments of extreme need.
"Profound Love / Profound Grief."
The words from the orb echoed in my mind. That was my power. Not fire, not lightning. The love for my sister and the grief of losing her. It was all I had left of my old life.
I made a fist, the ghost of the dagger's hilt feeling both absent and forever imprinted on my palm.
"Alright, Elian," I whispered to the night, the name bitter on my tongue. "I'll wear your face. I'll walk your path. But I am not you."
In the depths of my soul, the silver warmth pulsed in agreement.
"I am Aarion Vale. And I will find my way back to you, Lyra. No matter what it takes."
The Academy slept around me, a giant full of secrets. And I, a secret myself, stood at its threshold, ready to learn its language and use its resources. My education was about to begin. Not just in magic, but in how to be a ghost in a living world.