Later that evening, the soft glow of crystal lamps bathed Empress Serkai’s private study in a warm, subdued light. The room was a sanctuary of calm, its polished obsidian floors reflecting the faint hues of blue and gold tapestries lining the walls. A massive desk, hewn from dark stone and intricately inlaid with veins of silver and platinum, stood at the center, its surface meticulously organized with documents and artifacts of state. Behind it, the crystalline echo hummed softly, its faint glow casting shifting shadows against the wall.

Elkianara stood beside her mother, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Though she maintained a composed posture, the slight tapping of her finger against her wrist betrayed her nerves. The last 24 hours had been a whirlwind, and now, everything seemed to hinge on the faintly glowing echo device before them. The hum deepened as the image of Headmaster Reenes materialized above the echo’s surface, his stern visage flickering into view with a faint shimmer.

“I have secured the Academy Council’s approval,” Reenes began without preamble, his tone calm but carrying an undercurrent of satisfaction. His sharp features and steady gaze gave the impression of a man who always knew the outcome of a negotiation before it even began. “Alden Fairwood will be admitted as a medically disabled student. The council was particularly intrigued by the potential for research into his condition.”

The faintest tension eased from Serkai’s posture, though her expression remained as inscrutable as ever. Her sharp blue eyes fixed on Reenes’s image with the intensity of a hawk considering its prey. “And the terms of this agreement?” she asked, her voice cool and deliberate, every word weighted.

“Standard protocols,” Reenes replied smoothly. “His condition will be closely monitored, and any research conducted will remain under strict Academy oversight. The council has also agreed to maintain absolute discretion regarding his background and circumstances. To the outside world, Alden will simply be a student receiving medical treatment.”

Elkianara took a step forward, her brows furrowing as a flicker of concern crossed her otherwise composed face. “What about his lack of magical ability?” she asked, her voice steady but probing. “Won’t that become obvious? Starlight is the most prestigious school in the galaxy. They’ll notice.”

Reenes adjusted his stance slightly, clasping his hands behind his back. “The council has anticipated that concern,” he said. “Special accommodations will be made. His medical status will provide sufficient cover for any anomalies. As far as the wider Academy is concerned, Alden will simply be a student undergoing advanced magical treatments. His inability to perform magic will be attributed to the scarring on his arm and his ‘recovery process.’”

Elkianara tilted her head slightly, her mind racing through the implications. It was a clever solution, one that both protected Alden and allowed him a place at Starlight. But something about it still left a knot in her stomach. “So, you’re saying his condition will make him... invisible?” she asked, her tone sharper than she intended.

Reenes’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile—more of a calculated gesture than an expression of warmth. “Not invisible, Princess. Protected. This arrangement ensures that Alden’s unique situation will not become a point of contention or curiosity. The Academy has handled sensitive cases before, though I will admit... this is unprecedented.” His voice softened slightly as he turned his gaze toward her. “On another note, Princess Elkianara, allow me to personally congratulate you on your acceptance to Starlight. Your potential has already created ripples within the council.”

Elkianara blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. “Thank you, Headmaster Reenes,” she replied, her voice faltering for just a moment before she recovered her composure. “I... I hope I’ll meet your expectations.”

Reenes inclined his head. “I have no doubt you will.”

Serkai, who had been silently observing the exchange, finally spoke, her voice cutting cleanly through the moment. “And what of the boy’s departure?” she asked, bringing the focus back to Alden. “When can he travel?”

“The medical team will need to determine when he’s stable enough,” Reenes explained. “Given the extent of his injuries, I would expect a few more days at least. As for Princess Elkianara,” he added, turning back toward her, “she may depart with me whenever she is ready.”

The words struck Elkianara like a hammer blow. Her professionalism wavered, and she instinctively turned to her mother. “Can’t I wait for Alden to wake?” she asked, her voice carrying a plaintive edge that made her sound, for a moment, like the child she still was. “It doesn’t feel right to leave without at least speaking to him.”

Serkai’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying her daughter for a long, measured moment. Then, she turned back to Reenes, her tone cool and formal once more. “We will finalize travel arrangements. You will be informed when Elkianara is ready to depart.”

Reenes gave a small bow, his image flickering as the transmission began to end. “Very well, Your Majesty. I’ll prepare for departure and await your word.” His image dissolved into a shimmer of light, and the echo’s hum faded into silence.

The study felt quieter now, as if the room itself had exhaled. Elkianara turned toward her mother, expecting a reprimand for her momentary lapse in decorum. Instead, Serkai surprised her. The Empress’s steely expression softened, and the faintest smile touched her lips.

“El,” Serkai said quietly, her voice filled with a warmth that was rarely heard beyond the confines of their private quarters. She stepped closer, resting her hands on Elkianara’s shoulders. “I know this isn’t easy for you. You’ve handled yourself admirably... more than admirably. But you’re still my daughter, and I know how hard this is.”

Elkianara bit her lip, her composed mask cracking ever so slightly. “It’s just... everything’s changing so quickly. I know I have to go, but I don’t feel ready.”

“No one ever feels ready for a journey like this,” Serkai replied, her tone gentle but firm. “But you are ready, Elkianara. I know you are. And I will always be here, watching over you, no matter how far away you go.”

Before Elkianara could respond, a soft chime echoed from the nearby console. Both mother and daughter turned toward it, tension rippling through the air. Serkai activated the display with a flick of her wrist, and the image of a medical attendant appeared.

“Your Majesty,” the attendant said with a bow, “Duke Fairwood is beginning to regain consciousness. We believe he will be fully awake within the hour.”

Elkianara’s breath caught in her throat. “Thank you,” Serkai replied, cutting the transmission before turning back to her daughter.

Elkianara stepped toward the wall panel and pressed the intercom button. “Isolde,” she called, her voice steady but urgent. “Please meet me at the medical wing immediately.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” came the crisp reply.

Serkai gestured toward the doorway. “Go. I’ll follow shortly.”

Elkianara nodded and moved quickly toward the study doors, her pace quickening with every step. Serkai lingered for a moment, watching her daughter leave. She squared her shoulders, the stoic mask of the Empress settling back into place as she turned toward the hallway.

Marcus was there, standing silently outside the study door, his imposing frame a familiar and reassuring presence. He inclined his head respectfully as Serkai stepped out. “Your Majesty,” he said, his tone calm and steady.

“You’ve been here all day, Marcus,” Serkai noted, her gaze piercing but not unkind. “This isn’t your usual post.”

Marcus’s face remained impassive, though his words carried quiet conviction. “In times like these, Your Majesty, my usual post is wherever I’m needed most.”

Serkai studied him for a moment before giving a faint nod. “Good. Stay close.”

“As always,” Marcus replied.

***

The sky above was a roiling bruise of black and purple, clouds boiling and churning as if the heavens themselves were at war. Alden’s world was a haze of ash and despair, the ground beneath him a desolate wasteland of dust that clung to his skin and filled his lungs with every shallow, labored breath. Shapes swirled at the edges of his vision, shadows coiling and dissipating, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move. His limbs were unresponsive, his head locked in place, and even the attempt to blink failed him. He felt as if his body were trapped in invisible chains, his very soul encased in a suffocating grip.

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The pain started as a dull throb behind his eyes but quickly grew into something sharp, like shards of glass stabbing into his skull. His vision swam, blurring the horizon into a smeared canvas of destruction.

A voice cut through the oppressive stillness, impossibly close yet echoing as if spoken from a vast distance. “Alden, if you are here, seeing this, I am no more.”

Vaelus.

Alden’s chest tightened as he tried to blink, to focus, to force his body to respond, but it was no use. His gaze remained locked ahead, unyielding, as though even his own body conspired against him.

Lightning forked upward — unnatural and wrong — arcing from the ash-covered earth into the storm like blooming trees of light. Each jagged strike left searing scars of orange across the belly of the clouds, glowing like open wounds. Then the clouds began to bleed.

The rain came in heavy, scalding drops of molten red. It struck the parched earth with sizzling force, soaking into the soil faster than it could pool. Steam hissed up from the ground, creating a choking fog that only deepened Alden’s sense of helplessness. His body screamed at him to run, to move, to escape the nightmare closing in around him, but he remained frozen in place.

“I do not know why I have ceased to exist,” Vaelus continued, his voice carrying a mournful weight that settled heavily on Alden’s chest. “And I pray Lys is still with you.”

Through the haze of red rain, a figure began to emerge. It moved with unnatural grace, stepping closer with each beat of Alden’s frantic, pounding heart. This wasn’t the Vaelus Alden had known, the swirling shadows and embers that had once been his companion. This form was sharp, defined, its edges glinting like obsidian in the scarlet light.

“This is a record of my knowledge,” the voice continued, even as the figure reached him. “It will be too much for you. Learn to access it within yourself. Learn to search for what you need. Perhaps... one day, you will be able to see all of it.”

The figure raised a hand—sleek and dark, like liquid metal. Before Alden could even attempt to flinch, the hand shot forward. Fingers cold as death pressed against his face, two digits driving into his eyes with horrifying precision.

Alden’s world erupted in pain.

He screamed—a raw, animalistic sound that tore from his throat as the sensation of his eyes bursting overwhelmed him. The fingers didn’t stop, pushing deeper, burrowing through nerves and bone until the agony reached the very core of his mind. He tried to twist away, tried to push back, but his body remained immobile, betraying him. The pain wasn’t just physical; it was as if Vaelus’s very essence was carving into his soul, leaving behind something vast, unknowable, and crushing.

Panic surged like wildfire, consuming everything else.

Alden’s consciousness clawed its way back to the surface, dragged violently by the shrill beeping of machines and the sharp, antiseptic tang of the air around him. His eyes snapped open, and the light of the real world stabbed into his vision, too bright and too chaotic. The ceiling above him was a blinding white blur, the sounds of urgent voices and clattering equipment crashing into him like waves. He tried to breathe, but his chest was tight, constricted, and the air felt too thin.

The wires clinging to his arms and chest felt like restraints, and the unfamiliar weight of the blanket over his body was suffocating. His muscles screamed with effort as he tore at the wires, the adhesive pulling at his skin like it was trying to peel him apart. The monitors attached to him wailed in protest, their alarms blending with the frantic cries of the medics around him.

“Restrain him!” a voice called out, sharp and commanding.

A shadow loomed over him—a figure, too close, too sudden. Alden’s body reacted before his mind could process it, his hand lashing out. His palm collided with the chest of the man—a doctor, perhaps—and the force sent the figure stumbling back. A tray of instruments clattered to the floor with a metallic crash that rang in Alden’s ears like the unsheathing of a thousand blades.

He flung himself from the bed, his body collapsing into a crouch in the far corner of the room. His breath came in ragged gasps, his wide green eyes darting around, taking in every detail of his surroundings. The pale glow of magical equipment pulsed like malevolent eyes watching him. The medics seemed to close in, their hands raised in cautious gestures, but to Alden, they were predators circling their prey.

Boots thundered against the floor as guards stormed into the room, their weapons raised. The metallic glint of their blades caught the light, sending sparks of fear stabbing into Alden’s chest. The cacophony of orders and warnings—“Lower your weapon!” “Stand down!”—blared in his ears, meaningless noise drowned out by the drumbeat of his own terror.

“ALDEN!”

The voice cut through the chaos like a blade. He snapped his head toward it, his vision locking onto the source. Empress Serkai. Her imposing figure loomed in the doorway, her face sharp with authority, her presence dominating the room. The guards flanking her stepped forward, their movements deliberate, their weapons gleaming.

Danger. Enemies. Threats.

“No!” Alden shouted, his voice raw and cracking. “Stay back!” His hands shot up defensively, trembling as the air around him seemed to shimmer and distort. There was a sudden, blinding pulse of light—and then it was in his hand.

Lysandra.

The sword materialized with a flash of energy, its gleaming blade casting an ethereal glow that seemed to cut through the chaos. Alden’s trembling fingers tightened around the hilt, its weight familiar and grounding. But with the weapon came something else—something vast and overwhelming.

Knowledge. Tactics. Instincts.

They flooded his mind in a torrent, drowning out everything else. His panicked gaze locked onto the guards, and in an instant, he saw everything—their stances, their weaknesses, the precise movements he would need to neutralize each one. His body shifted into a combat stance he didn’t know he could perform, every muscle taut and ready.

Strike first. Sweep low. Disable. Eliminate.

But then another voice pierced the haze—a softer voice, almost familiar, and urgent. “Alden!”

His head whipped toward it, and he saw her. Elkianara. She stood behind the guards, her hands raised in a gesture of peace, her hazel eyes wide with fear and concern. She wasn’t armed. She wasn’t advancing. Her lips moved, speaking words he couldn’t hear over the pounding of his heart.

The clarity shattered as the guards stepped between them, and the room seemed to close in again. Alden’s grip on the sword tightened as his mind screamed at him to act, to defend himself, to escape.

Then memory slammed into him like a hammer.

The blade. His blade. Piercing up through the mattress and into Elara’s chest. Her blood soaking the sheets, pooling over his hands. The way her breath hitched and then stopped.

The sword in his hand felt too real now, too heavy, its weight pulling him down into the depths of that moment. His knees buckled, the knowledge and instincts draining away as quickly as they had come. The weapon flickered and vanished, leaving his hand empty, his soul raw. His vision blurred, and the room around him dissolved into a nightmarish replay of the battle at the manor. The guards became faceless shadows. The medical equipment twisted into grotesque shapes. He saw his parents’ faces, frozen in death. The silence in his mind, the absence of Lysandra and Vaelus, became a void that screamed louder than any noise.

A scream tore free from his chest, raw and guttural.

He crumpled to the floor, curling in on himself as his body shook with sobs. His fingers clawed at his chest, as if he could reach inside and tear out the crushing agony that was consuming him.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out between sobs, his voice breaking. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry…”

Serkai moved first, her expression unreadable as she dismissed the guards with a sharp gesture. “Stand down,” she commanded, her tone brooking no argument. The guards hesitated, their weapons lowering as they retreated to the edges of the room, their eyes still wary.

She took a single step forward, her imposing presence softening ever so slightly. But she said nothing, waiting as Alden’s sobs echoed through the room, raw and broken.

The sobs racked Alden’s body, raw and uncontrollable. Each one tore through the still air like dissonant notes from an untuned instrument, jagged and unrelenting. The sterile room felt smaller now, oppressive, as though the weight of his grief had distorted the very air around him.

Serkai knelt, her imposing figure diminished by the heaviness in her gaze. She extended a hand toward him, not to touch, but to remind him that she was there. “Alden,” she said softly, the iron in her voice tempered with rare warmth. “You are still here. Do you hear me? You are still here.”

But Alden couldn’t meet her gaze. His body trembled, his fingers still involuntarily clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Serkai, with all her commanding presence, seemed to know there were no words that could reach him now.

Elkianara stood a few steps behind, her small hands fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. Her hazel eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and yet she stayed quiet. She wanted to step forward, to say something—anything—but the fragility of the moment held her back.

Slowly, Serkai rose to her feet. Her movements were deliberate, her expression once again unreadable, the calm mask of the Empress falling back into place. She turned to the medics and guards standing silently by the walls, issuing orders with a voice steady enough to stop the trembling in the air.

“Get him back in the bed. Let him rest. No further interruptions tonight.”

The room stirred to life, a quiet flurry of movement as medics approached cautiously. Alden remained motionless, his gaze fixed on the floor, his breaths shallow and uneven.

As Serkai stepped back, Elkianara finally whispered, “I’ll stay with him.”

Serkai paused. She looked at her daughter, the lines around her eyes softening ever so slightly. Without a word, she nodded, then gestured for the guards to follow her out of the room.

The door closed behind them with a faint hiss, and Elkianara sat on the floor a few feet away from Alden. She didn’t speak. She didn’t move closer. She simply stayed, her quiet presence an anchor in the swirling chaos.

A couple of the medical staff slowly approached and lifted him back to the bed, reattaching the monitors.Isolde brought a chair into the room, her movements careful, her gaze lingering on Alden with a flicker of concern. She placed the chair out of the way, glancing at Elkianara. ‘If you need anything, Highness…’ she began, her voice hesitant, almost maternal. Elkianara smiled faintly, brushing her hand against Isolde’s arm in silent gratitude. ‘Thank you, Isolde,’ she said softly, before sinking into the chair and folding her hands tightly in her lap.”

Alden’s sobs had slowed now, reduced to shallow gasps and tremors. He curled in on himself, his face hidden in his arms. The sword, the voices, the weight of his parents’ loss—they were gone, but their absence left behind a void that screamed in his mind louder than any memory.