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Truth has a way of shattering reality like a stone through glass. As Mother's words faded – the tale of her sacrifice, her friendship, and her love – I found myself staring at my hands. The same hands that had once wielded power beyond old, now trembling in the moonlight. How strange that flesh could remain so familiar while the soul within felt like a stranger.

The air around the grave pressed against us, thick with the scent of rain and rotting leaves. Above, clouds writhed across the face of the moon like restless spirits, casting us in and out of shadow. Each breath felt like swallowing shards of ice, but I welcomed the pain. It anchored me to this moment, this reality – whatever that meant now.

"Is this why..." My voice cracked, and I had to start again. "Is this why I've always felt hollow inside? Like something was missing, but I could never name it?"

Mother's face contorted with a grief so ancient it seemed carved into her features. Her red hair caught the moonlight like strands of copper strips..

"The seal was meant to protect, not hollow you out." She reached toward me, then let her hand fall. The gesture spoke volumes about the distance between us now. "But magic has a way of... compensating. When we lock away part of ourselves through magic, it leaves an echo. A shadow of what's missing."

A bitter laugh escaped me, sharp enough to startle a crow from a nearby headstone. "Compensating?" Heat rose in my chest, spreading like wildfire through my veins. "I've spent my entire life feeling like a sword without a blade, a book without words, and you call that 'compensating'?"

"I'm sorry I should have told you sooner." Mother's voice trembled like a leaf in a storm. She took a step toward me, and moonlight caught the tears on her cheeks. "You deserved to know, but you never showed hints of the old before. Just dreams, fragments that weren't even whole. I thought the ritual had failed." Her breath hitched. "I wanted you to have a peaceful life, Einar."

The name struck me like a physical blow. Einar. Was it even my name, or just another hand-me-down from a past life? The anger that surged through me felt both foreign and familiar, like wearing another man's armor that somehow fit perfectly.

"A peaceful life?" Magic stirred in my blood, responding to my rage. The air around us grew heavy, charged like the moment before lightning strikes. "Then why are my memories gone? If I was this... warrior, this man who fought for an entire race, why would you take that from me?" Each word carried more heat than the last. "Why hide it?"

Mother flinched as if I'd struck her. For a moment, she looked older than I'd ever seen her, weighted down by secrets older than both our lives. "The seal I placed on you," she began, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper, "it was only meant to suppress your magic. To keep you safe." She wrapped her arms around herself, a gesture so human it made my chest ache. "I never touched your memories. Those were sealed by something... older, something far beyond any power I possess."

"What do you mean?" The words cut through the night air like a blade. Around us, shadows seemed to deepen, as if the darkness itself was listening. "Speak plainly, Mother. I've had enough of half-truths and riddles."

"There were carvings." Her hands moved through the air, tracing patterns I couldn't see but somehow recognized. "Some carving in ancient language, carved into your heart. Valerie..." She hesitated, and that name – that name sent lightning through my veins. "She didn't tell me everything, but she said it was done to protect you."

Valerie. The name echoed through the hollow spaces in my mind, filling them with fragments of memory: the scent of mountain air, the sound of laughter like silver bells, the warmth of a hand in mine. The woman whose tears fell for me as I died, not the one who drove the sword through my heart.

"Who was she… to me?" The question burned in my throat like dry poison. I needed to know, needed to understand why her ghost haunted every dream, why her voice called to me from the depths of memory.

Mother's hesitation felt like an eternity compressed into heartbeats. "She was... your soul bond." The words fell soft as snow, but hit like thunder. "In human terms... a wife. Valerie was yours, just as you were hers."

The world tilted beneath my feet. Not just memories then, but a life. A love. Something real and tangible and lost. The pain that bloomed in my chest felt like dying all over again.

"Where is she?" I could barely force the words past my lips. "Where is Valerie?"

Mother's eyes dropped to the earth, and my heart plummeted with them. "I don't know," she whispered, grief heavy in every word. She pulled an amulet from beneath her cloak, its surface dull in the moonlight. "She gave me this, told me to call her when the time was right, but..." Her fingers tightened around it. "It hasn't responded in years. I fear... she may be lost."

Lost. The word echoed in the hollow space where my memories should have been. My hand shot out, gripping the amulet my mother wore until my knuckles bleached white. The metal felt cold, lifeless against my skin.

"What about Mythoria?" My voice cracked like dry wood. The name tasted like ash and glory on my tongue. "The land of dragons... what happened to it?"

Mother's face fell further, if that was possible. "Einar..." She shook her head, green eyes dimming. "Mythoria never existed. Not in any records, not in any histories. There are no mentions of the land of dragons, no tales of Drakons."

My legs nearly buckled. The truth I'd suspected, but hearing it spoken aloud... Each word was another nail in a coffin I hadn't known I occupied.

"I've searched everything," she continued, words tumbling out now. "If Mythoria existed, it's either been lost beyond the Kaal, in the wilderness, as Valerie mentioned. There were dragons in the old era, yes, but no one like you... not like Valerie."

The world tilted beneath my feet. Mythoria – magnificent, war-torn land – with its soaring towers and advanced magic that put our current world to shame... no record? The very magic that exists today, I realized with growing certainty, must have originated there.

"So... what am I?" The question came out broken, fractured like the memories that wouldn't fully form. "Am I even real, or just a vessel for someone else?"

Mother closed the distance between us, her eyes fierce despite their sorrow. "You are Einar Emberheart." Her voice carried the strength of steel beneath silk. "Born with Drakon blood in your veins – they were ancient beings with same blood as dragons. You are more than this world understands. More than they could ever know."

I stared down at my hands, these hands that had once commanded fire, that had fought alongside a woman who was now little more than a ghost in my dreams. "But I don't feel like him," I breathed, watching my fingers tremble. "I don't remember what it felt like to be him."

Her hand found my shoulder, warm and steady. "You are still him, Einar. Even if you don't remember. It's all still inside you. It always has been."

The pain in my chest threatened to tear me apart. How could I be someone I couldn't remember? How could I find a woman who might not even exist anymore?

"What if I can't ever find her?" The words fell from my lips like broken glass.

Mother's grip tightened on my shoulder. "You will, or… she will." Her voice carried an certainty I wished I could feel. "It's in your nature to love her, the same goes for her. And..." She took a deep breath. "I will lift your seal, on your magic."

Ice shot through my veins. "Mother, no—"

"I do," she cut me off, her voice silk over steel. "I have to, Einar. You are stronger than you know, but this... this was done by me... to give you time to grow, and now is that time..." Fear crept into her expression, aging her decades in moments. "Old magic is returning, Einar. Valerie told me to warn you."

"Old magic?" The words barely left my lips before the world began to spin.

"It's the same magic that your race used. Our ancestors once also held old magic, when dragons were around. But Valerie feared with it comes darkness, the same darkness that consumed your race."

My hands began to shake violently. The sound of war drums filled my ears – no, not drums, my own heartbeat, racing out of control. The memory crashed over me: that obsidian sword slicing through me, the stench of death that clung to both blade and wielder. The faceless helmet that haunted my nightmares, just the amethyst eyes.

The darkness came wrapping around me, not as a gentle dimming but as a tide of pitch-black ink flooding my vision. Those amethyst eyes bored into me from the void, and suddenly I wasn't in the fields anymore, but in a moment, that damned moment of death. I was dying again, feeling that obsidian blade slide between my ribs, tasting iron and regret on my tongue.

My knees struck the earth hard enough to send shock waves through my bones. Each breath came shorter than the last, my lungs refusing to expand properly. The world spun like a child's top, and my fingers clawed desperately at my chest, trying to reach a wound that existed only in memory.

"Einar!" Mother's voice seemed to come from underwater, distorted and distant. Her hands pressed against my back, but the touch felt wrong – everything felt wrong. My skin was too tight, my bones too heavy, my blood too hot in my veins.

The creature from my nightmares materialized in the darkness – that faceless helm, that sword dripping with ancient magic and malice. But now I could smell it too: the stench of decay and corrupted power that had clung to its armor. The memory was so vivid I retched, though nothing came up but bile.

"Focus, my son." Mother's voice cracked with desperation. "It's not real. You're here, with me. You're safe—"

"Safe?" The word came out as a broken laugh. "I died. I died and failed and—" Another wave of panic crashed over me. "I couldn't save them. Couldn't save her. I wasn't strong enough, wasn't fast enough, wasn't—"

"Einar, breathe." Mother pulled me against her chest like she had when I was small, when nightmares were just nightmares and not memories of deaths I'd lived. Her heartbeat thundered against my back, quick but steady. "Feel my heart. Match your breathing to mine."

But the darkness was winning. Those amethyst eyes grew larger, consuming everything until the amulet Mother wore brushed against my skin, and a faint light bloomed in the void. Hope flickered in Mother's voice as I heard her say: "V-Valerie... save him..."

The monster loomed closer, and doubt crushed me like a physical weight. I wasn't the warrior I'd once been. Wasn't the hero who'd fought for his people. I was just... a vessel.

Then came the light – not bright, but persistent, like the first star appearing at dusk. And with it, her voice. Gods, her voice. It cut through the chaos in my mind like a blade through silk, as familiar as my own heartbeat:

"Sol'karis, vrae vor drath. Zalor vel'shira. Zin vor drath."

The darkness trembled. The monster faltered. And something inside me... shifted. The words spoken to me were soft yet fierce, but they left a calm in my heart. I have heard this tongue more than any tavern tales, foreign yet each words wore meaning that I fully understand.

My next breath came easier, then the next. Her voice wrapped around me like a blanket of starlight, and slowly, so slowly, the world began to right itself.

"I remember..." The words felt raw in my throat. "I remember how she would sing when nightmares came. When the war got too heavy, when the deaths piled too high..." My fingers found the amulet, clutching it like a lifeline. "She would sing, and somehow... somehow it was enough."

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Mother's arms tightened around me. "She knew you better than anyone. Knew your soul." Her voice softened. "Just as I know what you need now."

I pulled back enough to see her face, to see the determination hardening behind her eyes. "Mother?"

"The seal." She touched the spot above my heart, where ancient runes lay dormant beneath my skin. "It's time, Einar. You need to have what was rightfully yours." Her fingers trembled slightly, but her gaze remained steady. "Your own magic that was sealed by me."

Fear coiled in my gut – not of the power itself, but of what it might cost. "The last time I had this power..." Images flashed through my mind: cities burning, dragons falling from the sky, that obsidian blade finding my heart.

"You're not alone this time." Mother's voice carried the weight of iron. "You have me and Alira." She placed both hands on my shoulders. Her right hand moved to my chest, pressing against my thundering heart. "You were born with a drakon's heart... your own heart, and it's time for it to awaken what lies within it."

Terror and longing warred in my chest. "What if it hurts you? What if I can't control it?"

She smiled, though shadows danced in her eyes. "I'll be fine, dear." The slight tremor in her voice betrayed her uncertainty. Under her breath, so quiet I almost missed it: "Even I don't know what will happen."

The air grew thick with potential, like the moment before lightning strikes. The power inside me stirred, responding to even the thought of freedom. I knew there was no turning back – If everything was right, then I need to learn magic, for that I will need magic, to protect my family and to find her.

Slowly, my hands steadying, I nodded. "Do it."

We knelt on the damp earth, facing each other. Dead leaves crackled beneath our knees, and the air grew dense with anticipation. Even the wind seemed to still, as if nature itself held its breath. Mother's hands trembled slightly as she raised them to frame my face, her touch cool against my feverish skin.

"Close your eyes," she whispered, her voice carrying echoes of ancient power. "Remember who you were... who you are."

I obeyed, darkness falling like a curtain. Behind my closed lids, memories flickered like dying embers: the weight of armor I'd never worn, the roar of dragons I'd never seen, the warmth of a love I'd never lived. Yet each fragment felt more real than the ground beneath my knees.

Mother began to chant. The words weren't quite a song, weren't quite a prayer – they were older than both, syllables that seemed to resonate with the very bones of the earth. Each word sent tremors through my body, awakening something that had slumbered far too long.

The rune on her chest ignited, a dark, trident-shaped symbol, its three prongs sharp and striking against her chest, casting blood-red light through my closed eyelids. Between us, the air twisted and warped, taking shape. Even without opening my eyes, I could sense it – massive, ancient, a phantom of what once was. The ghost of a dragon, called forth by magic older than time.

Then came the first touch of power.

It started gently, like sunlight breaking through clouds after a storm. Warmth bloomed in my chest, spreading outward with each word Mother spoke. For a heartbeat, maybe two, it was beautiful. Perfect. Like finding a piece of myself I hadn't known was missing.

But then the power surged.

Fire erupted through my veins, not warm but searing. My back arched involuntarily as magic flooded every cell, every fiber of my being. Too much. Too fast. Too—

"What the…" I gasped, my eyes flying open. The world had transformed. Everything glowed with an inner light, power made visible. But worse was the feeling building inside me, like a storm trying to escape through my skin.

Lightning, red as blood, crackled beneath my flesh, wild and untamed. It raced through muscle and bone, setting every nerve alight with raw power. My body locked rigid, muscles seizing as the storm built inside me. This power... gods, this power that I have only seen in dream. It was mine. Had always been mine. The lightning coiled around my heart like a living thing, each pulse sending electricity arcing through my body.

The heart within me roared to life, and with it came a rush of true energy that I have only felt before, saw my sister linger with it. After failing to awaken my magic, I have lost hope to ever thing of using magic, but here it is, though it is not like what I have thought, but its same as awakening. This is who I was supposed to be. Who I had always been.

But the power wouldn't stop building.

"Mother!" This time the word came out as a warning, but too late. The lightning was spreading beyond my control, arcing outward in brilliant crimson bolts that scarred the night sky. They reached toward the top of old oak, toward the earth, toward—

"MOTHER!" The scream tore from my throat as a massive bolt struck her chest. Her body jerked like a puppet with cut strings, eyes flying wide with shock and pain. The rune on her chest flared brilliant red, then began to fracture like breaking glass.

She didn't scream. Didn't cry out. But I saw the agony etched into every line of her face as my untamed power coursed through her. Her skin blistered where the lightning touched, angry red welts rising in its wake. Blood trickled from her nose, her ears, but still her lips moved, still she spoke those ancient words.

"Stop!" I lunged forward, trying to break the connection, but another surge of power ripped through me. Lightning exploded outward in all directions, shattering nearby headstones and scorching the earth black. Mother was thrown backward, her body hitting the ground with a sound that would haunt my nightmares.

Magic thrummed through me, untamed, fully awakened now, but the cost... gods, the cost...

"Mother?" My voice cracked as I crawled toward her motionless form, trailing sparks in my wake. "Mother, please..."

Thunder rolled across the sky, answering my pain with nature's own voice. The air still crackled with residual energy, making my hair stand on end. But all I could focus on was her still form, the slight rise and fall of her chest the only sign she lived.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, gathering her broken body in my arms. "I'm so sorry." Lightning still danced across my skin, but gentler now, tamed by the horror of what I'd done. "I should have stopped it. Should have—"

Her hand found mine, weak but present. "No," she breathed, each word clearly causing pain. "It... had to be... done." Her eyes fluttered open, and despite everything, she smiled. "Your eyes... they're glowing... like they used to..."

I could feel it – the power settling into my bones, becoming part of me again. But the price... "I never wanted this. Not if it meant hurting you."

"Sometimes..." She coughed, specks of blood staining her lips. "Sometimes love means... letting go. Letting you become... who you need to be." Her fingers tightened on mine.

The night air hummed with magic – my power – as old magic once again flowed through my veins. But all I could think about was the cost of that power, marked in my mother's blood and pain.

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Each of Mother's breaths whispered like autumn leaves in the wind, precious and fleeting. Strange how we never truly understand the worth of a single breath until it threatens to be the last. Her form felt light as a child's in my arms - too light. My boots struck the earth in desperate rhythm as the cabin materialized through the mist, its weathered walls glowing faintly in the torchlight.

"Brother?"

Alira's voice pierced the darkness, thick with sleep but threading with worry. She emerged from the shadows like a spirit, her nightdress catching the dim light. The scent of sage and yarrow from her evening rituals still clung to her hair - herbs meant to ward off evil, yet powerless against the consequences of our own choices.

"She's hurt." The words clawed their way from my throat. Mother's skin felt cold against mine as I laid her on the bed. My fingers fumbled through my satchel, scraping against herb pouches and dried roots until they found the flask. "Used too much magic. She... she did it for me."

Alira was by my side in an instant, her voice dropping into a whisper, raw with shock. “For you?” She sounded bewildered, almost afraid to understand what that meant.

But there wasn’t time for that. I bring the healing potion that I have bought from Eliza before, I tilted the flask to my mother’s lips, letting the green fluid slip down her throat in slow, measured sips. It smelled of rotten herbs and burnt tea, it was gooey which was common for lesser potions.

Each breath she took seemed thinner, her chest barely rising. The healing potion could mend her body, but it wouldn’t restore the magic she’d burned away. She needed her energy back and quick, without it…

My fingers dug into the rough wool of the mattress. Guilt churned in my gut like poison. I should have stopped her. Should have found another way. But isn't that the curse of power? We always believe we can control it, until the moment it controls us.

“Will this help her?” Alira’s voice cut through my thoughts, trembling, desperate.

"It'll heal her insides." I forced the words past the tightness in my throat. "But her magic... there's a limit. Push past it and..." Just like mother warned - magic isn't merely a tool to be wielded, but a force that flows through all things. Break its laws, and it breaks you in return. She pushed that limit, for me.

Silence fell, thick and heavy, weighing down on us both. Alira’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she watched our mother, her gaze flickering to me with a mixture of confusion and dread.

“Einar…” Alira’s voice was hesitant, barely more than a whisper. “Isn’t there something we can do? Anything?”

I opened my mouth to respond, to say something that might ease her fear, but my thoughts were a tangled mess. And then an idea struck, desperate and uncertain but there, flickering like a weak flame. “We can try giving her energy, directly,” I muttered, more to myself than her.

I placed my hand over Mother’s heart, feeling the faint, fragile beat beneath my palm. A thin stream of energy stirred inside me: foreign and wild, nothing like the gentle flow of human magic that mother have told about. I willed that energy to flow into her, to fill the emptiness where her energy should be.

Alira watched, her face filled with awe and confusion. “Brother, you… you can’t use magic,” she stammered, disbelief thick in her voice. “How…?”

“I can now.” The words came out sharper than I intended. “But it’s no good.” My jaw clenched as I struggled to push more power into her, feeling it slip through like sand through my fingers. “It’s not working.”

Alira took a shaky step closer, her eyes wide. “Maybe…” She hesitated, choosing her words with care. “Maybe it’s because your magic is different. Maybe her body can’t accept it.”

The truth of it hit me like a blow. Of course. My magic wasn’t… normal. It was different from others. My throat tightened, frustration gnawing at me. “Then what do I do?” My voice broke, harsh and raw, as helplessness clawed at me. “Tell me what to do.”

Alira’s gaze lingered on Mother’s pale face, then her eyes hardened, determination sparking in them. “Let me try,” she said, stepping forward with a slight tremor in her voice. “I can give her energy from surrounding… maybe she’ll accept mine.”

I turned to her, a flicker of hope mingling with the fear twisting in my gut. “You really think it’ll work?”

She swallowed, uncertainty flashing in her eyes, but she nodded. “It’s our only chance.”

I helped her position herself beside Mother, guiding her hands gently to Mother’s chest. “Just focus,” I whispered, feeling my heart pound against my ribs. “Pull energy from surroundings then Imagine it flowing into her… slowly.”

Alira closed her eyes, her breath steady as she concentrated, her face pale and tense. The cabin was silent but for the crackling of the fire, each passing second stretching into eternity. I held my breath, watching, waiting, my heart suspended in that quiet, suffocating moment.

Nothing happened at first. Mother’s chest remained still, her face as pale as ever. But then—a flicker. Her breathing grew deeper, a faint color returned to her cheeks. It was subtle, barely there, but it was enough.

Alira gasped, swaying as the effort took its toll. She looked exhausted, her hands shaking as she pulled back, but she managed a weak smile. “I think… I think it’s helping.”

I steadied her, relief flooding my veins as I watched Mother’s face, her breathing now steady, soft. When her eyes fluttered open, I couldn’t stop the tight breath that escaped my chest.

“Mother…” My voice came out thick, hoarse, the weight of everything crashing over me. I knelt beside her, gripping her hand, feeling a wave of relief so deep it hurt. “I’m sorry,” I choked, guilt twisting in my stomach. “I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

She gave me a weak smile, her hand trembling as she reached up to touch my face. “Don’t… don’t blame yourself,” she whispered, her words soft but firm. “You’re my son. I would do it all again for you.”

Her words cut deep, bittersweet and warm, filling the hollow ache in my chest. I felt Alira’s hand on my shoulder, a silent presence beside me as I let the relief settle, my chest tight.

“Rest now, Mother,” I murmured, my voice gentle. “We’ll take care of you.”

As we left the room, Alira’s voice broke the silence. “Einar,” she said, her tone cautious but steady, “does this have to do with… you being able to use magic now? You never could before.”

I hesitated, the weight of everything looming over me. “It’s related,” I answered, the words low, uncertain.

Alira crossed her arms, giving me a sharp look softened by the exhaustion on her face. “There’s a lot I want to ask,” she admitted, her tone tinged with something between curiosity and worry. “But I’m too tired to get into it tonight. That took more out of me than I expected.”

She let out a small, weary sigh, and her gaze drifted to the ground. “Something feels different inside,” she murmured, more to herself than to me, her voice trailing off.

I managed a weak smile. “You should get some rest. I’ll tell you everything tomorrow.” The words felt hollow, knowing there was so much I didn’t understand myself. “Good night, Alira.”

She gave a faint nod, turning toward her room with a final glance over her shoulder. “Good night, Brother.” And then she disappeared, leaving me alone in the quiet of the dimly lit hall.

I stood before Mother's door, listening to the old timbers creak above. The drakon's heart beat within my chest, its rhythm a constant reminder of what I'd gained - and all I stood to lose. The price of power always comes due, one way or another.

There was old saying in the world of magic, that magic is neither good nor evil - it simply magnifies what already lies within our hearts. What if my heart was evil, not like my mother told, not like Valerie told to my mother, but it knows.

It beats within me once more with magic, with no restraints, but its rhythm is a reminder of all I had to lose, of all I have to protect. Again.

I was foolish to think I can even protect someone ever again.

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