Rowan's POV (A life before death)

"Get up!"

The kick wasn’t that hard — not really — but it still sent pain shooting up my leg. I wanted to scream, grab my shin, and rub where his boot had landed. But I didn’t. I bit down on the cry clawing its way up my throat.

I couldn’t get up. My body wouldn’t listen.

But if I didn’t—if I stayed down—he’d get disappointed.

Get up.

Get up!

I slapped my legs, hard, trying to force life back into them. They stayed limp.. The harder I hit, the more my desperation rose — until I realized I was making these ragged, gasping sounds, and my face was wet.

Crying. Again.

“Enough,” my father said.

Just one word — calm, quiet — and it hit harder than his boot ever could.

My body locked up. The sobs stopped. Even the tears froze on my cheeks.

Why am I so weak?

Why can’t I be like my brother? Strong. Fast. Talented. Everything they said a son should be. Everything I wasn’t.

I wanted to beat him. I wanted to crush him. I wanted to prove I was worth something.

But I couldn’t even stand.

"Are your legs all right, young master Rowan?"

The voice belonged to Captain Velcorin — the head of our guards — and the second I heard it, my stomach twisted. He was already kneeling beside me, his hands hovering near my legs like I was about to fall apart. His face was tight with worry. It only made me feel worse.

"I can stand up on my own," I mumbled, forcing my voice steady even though my legs still painful.

The captain hesitated, then dipped his head. "My apologies."

image [https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/thumbnails/027/187/944/small/gold-and-luxury-under-line-png.png]

After that day, my father stopped training me. Just… stopped. And I didn’t have to meet him nearly as often anymore.

But I did see him. With my older brother. A lot.

I watched from the windows sometimes — their swords clashing, my brother was strong and my father’s praise was clear.

I hated it.

"Training with Father must be fun, right?"

"Who in Phanes' light was that?!”

The voice came from above, and I knew exactly who it was before I even looked up.

Perched on the highest branch of the old oak tree beside the estate was my younger sister, Aisri. Her long, wavy brown hair had half-fallen from its ribbons, and golden-hazel eyes. A faint scar ran along her right jawline — a mark she never explained, no matter how many times we asked.

And of course, she was up in the tree. Because that’s what Aisri did. Climbing trees, sneaking out, doing things no noble girl was ever supposed to do.

She grinned down at me. "Your favorite sister is up here!"

"Enough with that favorite nonsense!" I snapped. "Just get down, you little—"

"Oh! You sound just like an angry adult brother now!" She laughed, kicking her legs.

"You—! If I catch you, I swear I’ll—!"

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The words cut off when pain hit me, sudden and sharp. My legs buckled. My breath caught.

And that was the start of it. The start of something none of us ever saw coming.

"Brother!" Aisri’s voice was distant and frantic.

Then everything went dark.

image [https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/thumbnails/027/187/944/small/gold-and-luxury-under-line-png.png]

I lost track of how long I stayed in bed. A year, maybe? Longer?

The illness started in my stomach, they said. But none of the doctors could figure out what it actually was. The pain grew worse. My body grew weaker. Every day, I faded a little more.

It wasn’t until Aunt Elowen returned from her travels that the pain finally eased — just a little. She tried everything, but even she couldn’t name the disease. After months of experiments and treatments, all she could tell us was that it was chronic.

A sickness that ate away at my body.

I grew thinner and thinner. My muscles wasted. Soon, even moving a finger felt like lifting a stone.

Our mother…she had the same illness, they told me but eventually she got treated and now healing to a different place. But mine was even worse. More advanced.

I stopped hoping after that.

My father… he stopped visiting altogether. I could tell he didn’t want to see me like this — weak and wasting away.

And me? The dream of getting stronger, of ever standing on my own two feet again…

It was dying, too.

I hated myself.

I hated being weak.

But there I was — standing at the massive window of my room, my fingers gripping the frame so tight my knuckles ached. The wind tugged at my hair, cool and sharp against my face. Below, the courtyard stretched far, far down — stones waiting like teeth.

How did it come to this? How did I get this… this sickness?

My chest ached. My stomach twisted. The pain never really went away. Some days it dulled, some days it burned — but it was always there, chewing me up from the inside.

I needed to get stronger. I needed to fight back. I needed to defeat my brother. Prove to Father I wasn’t useless. Prove to myself I was worth something.

But all I could do was stand there, shaking, while that horrible feeling crushed me — this tight, suffocating weight that never let up.

Maybe if I…

My toes edged closer to the ledge. The stones below seemed so far away — and so close.

No. I shouldn’t.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I had to face this. I had to fight. Mother was being treated — maybe they’d find a cure for me too. Maybe I’d get better. I’d train again. I’d get stronger. I’d surprise Father.

Yeah… yeah, that was—

A touch.

Fingers brushed my back — light, almost gentle — and then they shoved.

The world tilted.

Air rushed past me, tearing at my clothes, my hair — and the ground raced up to meet me.

Somewhere above, someone was watching me fall.

But there was no time to wonder who it was.

Because I was falling.

image [https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/thumbnails/027/187/944/small/gold-and-luxury-under-line-png.png]

Rowan's POV (The new soul)

“What the hell is that?” My voice cracked somewhere between a shout and a gasp as my body jerked upright on its own.

Elowen’s hand was still pressed against my stomach—and from under her palm, thick, dark smoke curled into the air.

“Lie down,” she said, shoving me back with a firm but careful push.

And then the pain hit.

“AGHH!”

It felt like my insides were being ripped apart—muscles seizing, twisting, tearing with a deep, burning ache. My hands fisted the sheets, white-knuckled and shaking.

Elowen didn’t flinch. If anything, her grip on my stomach tightened, her focus was sharp. The room blurred at the edges, but I could still see Mari standing by, wide-eyed and pale, clutching a cloth like she had no idea what to do with it.

“I told you to relax, you idiot,” Elowen snapped, not even looking up.

“Yeah… yeah… arghhh… I’m trying…” The words scraped out of my throat, barely more than a breath.

And still, the smoke poured out—thicker, darker—until a rancid stench filled the room.

I gagged. “What… what is that smell?” It wasn’t rot, but it wasn’t far off—sharp and chemical, like something burned and spoiled all at once.

Elowen didn’t answer. She just kept pushing down on my stomach.

image [https://static.vecteezy.com/system/resources/thumbnails/027/187/944/small/gold-and-luxury-under-line-png.png]

An hour passed, and finally—finally—the dark smoke started to thin out and fade. With it, the pain eased, leaving me drained but… better. Lighter, somehow. Elowen called it toxins, and sure, I felt their absence, but I still had no idea what the hell that weird, smoky magic actually was. I didn’t ask, though. Curiosity aside, I wasn’t sure I wanted the answer.

Elowen wiped her hands on a cloth, giving me one last sharp look. “I’ll check on you hourly. And you’d better not jump out that window again—or I’ll kill you.”

I wasn’t entirely sure she was joking.

But under that threat, there was something else—worry. It hit me then, the way she talked, the way she hovered. I kept forgetting I was in the body of a kid. Maybe I didn’t act like one, but it didn’t change the fact. And I guess, to her, I was just another reckless child she had to keep alive.

Still, I was relieved when she finally left. That just left me and Mari—and I had questions. A lot of them.

“Hey… Mari.”

She practically bolted from her spot near the wall, rushing to my bedside. She almost knelt right there.

Okay… weird.

“Young master?” she asked, her voice soft, careful.

“You saw what happened earlier, right?”

She froze. I watched her eyes widen before she slowly shook her head. “I—I apologize, young master! I didn’t mean to watch!”

Before I could even process that, she went to bow. No—smash her forehead right into the floorboards.

“Whoa, hey—stop that!” I shot a hand out, stopping her before she hurt herself. “You don’t need to do that! I was just asking a question!”

“I—I apologize for apologizing, young master?” she stammered, her face still low, voice shaking.

…What?

“Okay. Okay. Just—stop.” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You didn’t do anything wrong, alright? Relax. I just want to talk.”

She stayed frozen for a second longer, then slowly straightened up, eyes still fixed on the floor.

“So… you saw what happened earlier, right?”

Mari nodded quickly. “Yes, young master!”

“Then you saw the black smoke from the physician’s hand?”

Her face shifted—just a flicker, but enough to set my nerves on edge. Like I’d said something wrong. My heartbeat kicked up a notch.

“You mean your aunt, young master?”

…What?

“Aunt?” I repeated, the word tasting wrong in my mouth. “Elowen’s my aunt?”

“Uh—oh!” She paled. “I apologize—I forgot you’re suffering from memory loss.”

Right. Memory loss. Convenient excuse. I ran with it. “It’s… fine. I was actually going to ask—”

But my thoughts snagged. Elowen. My aunt.

That fierce, sharp-tongued woman with dark brown hair and eyes that looked like they saw right through you—that was family? She didn’t exactly radiate warmth, but there was no denying she was a rare kind of beautiful. And if this kid’s face took after her even a little… well, it’d explain some things.

Not that I’d seen my own face yet.

Focus. Questions first. Existential crises later.

“Right, so…” I cleared my throat. “That thing she did earlier—do you know what it was?”

Mari tilted her head. “What thing, young master?”

“The black smoke,” I said.

“Oh! The toxins, you mean?”

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. That.”

“That’s one of her skills, young master! It’s part of her essence—ah, I forgot the name… uh… v… vital! Yes, vital essence!”

Vital essence. My mind immediately latched onto the word vital. In medical terms, it meant something critical for life—like breathing or a heartbeat. But paired with “essence”? That was actually new.

“And what exactly is that?” I asked.

“It’s a type of magic, young master. Most physicians who practice magic use that kind of essence.”

Magic.

My breath stalled. My heart pounded harder, a rush of adrenaline flooding through me.

Magic.

Not tricks or illusions. Not sleight of hand. Real, honest-to-god magic.

Did I even hear that right?

I stared at Mari, and she stared back, wide-eyed and confused.

But I didn’t care. Because one word kept echoing in my head—dizzying and impossible and everything.

Magic. Magic. Magic.