Tiny lights glimmered across the grounds of the Black Estate, dancing through the air like fireflies, flickering in and out of sight as abundantly as the stars above. Beneath the sprawling branches of a tall, ancient oak, a girl lay on the cool grass, her chest rising and falling gently as she stared at the night sky.

Why was she out here so late and alone? The answer was simple. She was training her spiritual energy, just as her father had taught her. Nighttime was the best time for this—when the estate was cloaked in shadows, and the air hummed with the whispers of souls long past. The ground beneath her pulsed with the remnants of old battles, a rich source of energy that thrummed in sync with her heartbeat.

As she closed her eyes, focusing on the ethereal lights gathering around her, a mixture of determination and unease settled in her chest. This was more than just practice; it was a connection to her lineage, a bridge between the fallen and the future she yearned to shape. It was her calling and path to power. Respect and remembrance of those before her would help shape her abilities and allow her to reach her goals.

A few hours passed as she melded herself with the spirits and earth. The sound of gentle footsteps crunching the grass beneath them brought her to awareness.

“Lady Marcella, are you still out here training? It’s going to be morning soon; please come in and have at least some rest tonight.”

Marcella opened her eyes and turned to see Cicely, one of the family’s maids, standing nearby. Concern flickered across Cicely's face as Marcella blinked at her, still groggy.

“Is it really that late—or early, I mean?” Marcella asked, stretching her arms over her head and letting out a soft grunt. “I couldn’t have been out here for more than a few hours. Could I?”

Cicely shook her head, kneeling down to pluck stray leaves from Marcella’s hair. “You’ve been out here for much longer than you think. You need your rest, my lady.”

Marcella felt both gratitude and embarrassment as she watched Cicely gently work away at fixing her hair. Cicely was a constant in Marcella’s life, always being by her side. She had nurtured and loved her as one of her own.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” her breath escaped in a puff of exasperation. The fatigue from absorbing so much spiritual energy had settled heavily in her limbs and her mind, making it a struggle for her to rise on her own. As she kept attempting to rise, Cicely helped steady her by lending a hand.

“Come, my Lady. Let me help you to bed,” a warm smile stretched upon Cicely’s face as she guided her charge to the mansion.

As they walked towards the mansion, the grounds of the estate unfolded around them. Ahead of them, just a few steps away from a mansion a large fountain was erected. The sculpted figure was that of her great-great-grandfather holding an open book with one hand while pointing a wand off into the distance. From the wand came swirls of a blue ethereal light that cascaded, twisting and fading into the air as though it was never there to begin with.

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Marcella looked upon the statue and recalled a time when she was about five or six years old. She had the rare opportunity to enjoy time with her mother in her beloved hedge maze that took up the entirety of the mansion’s back. She spent so much time cultivating and sculpting this garden. More so than she spent on her, she thought. Marcella felt something grasping tightly against her chest making her feel pained.

She remembers how her mother lovingly walked hand-in-hand with her in the garden, recalling fantastical tales of their family’s legacy. The one that always stuck to her mind, was that of her great-great-grandfather, Ambrose Black.

Ambrose came from humble beginnings as a farmer in a border village in the country. The village was nothing special; it was a patchwork of farmland that had fields of grain as far as the eye could see. Among the land were scattered a few orchards that were modest in their harvests.

Even though he was nothing but a simple commoner, he set his dreams on traveling the country for adventure. The village itself was too small to satisfy his curiosities in such a large world. Once he had become an adult at the age of sixteen, he set off aiming towards the capital.

During his journey, he came across an old man who had been injured fighting off some of the beasts or spirits that resided in The Forest of Dreams. Ambrose helped nurse him back to health, and as a result, the man taught him the inner workings of the World’s Echo.

The World’s Echo had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, manifesting in visions of shimmering boxes that only a select few could see. Although many dismissed their claims as the ravings of drunks, they soon began to awaken strange powers within themselves. As word spread and more people experienced their own awakenings, the world itself responded—the wildlife transformed, and the landscape changed.

With this newfound knowledge, Ambrose chose to pursue the path of a fledgling mage. At the time, he had no inkling of the changes he would bring to the world. He quickly rose to become a top-ranking combat mage for the military, earning the title of Baron after countless exploits on the battlefield.

Her thoughts were cut short by the sound a thud coming from behind her and Cicely. They both turned around and were shocked by the sudden appearance of a slender young man laying flatly on the hard surface of the tiles.

Cicely began urging Marcella back to the mansion, just in case this visitor could be dangerous. For all she knew, he could be a type of monster. However, Marcella remained calm as she started to recognize who this boy was. She had briefly locked eyes with him in a field on the other side of The Veil. It may still be open for a few more hours, but, this person shouldn’t of been able to cross. Those who were born without the system can’t traverse between worlds like she could.

Intrigued, Marcella began to walk toward him, her steps slightly unsteady. It had been a while since something had piqued her curiosity this much.

Cicely reached out, her hand gently grasping Marcella's arm. “My Lady, please—”

Annoyed, Marcella brushed her hand away. “I’ve seen him before,” she said, her eyes narrowing as she took in his features. “I remember him from the other side of the Veil when I went exploring today.”

Kneeling beside the boy, she brushed her fingers along the side of his face. His skin felt soft and smooth. A mix of worry and fascination swirled in her chest as she considered how he had come to be here. How could this boy have travelled here.

“Cicely, I’ll stay with him. Can you go wake Father, please,” Marcella sat down next to him while trying to find a comfortable position on the chilly tiles. Cicely on the other hand started moving with urgency in her steps.

Marcella began to thought how interesting things are about to become.