Previously...
Young Kael Eryndor awoke from a seven-year coma with no complete memories—only fragmented glimpses and a mark no one could decipher. The Eryndor mansion, once the seat of the most powerful house in the north, lay in ruins. Its servants had departed. Neighboring nobles scorned its fallen lineage. The villagers saw him as a burden. Only his sisters—Lyara, the eldest and now the lady of the house, and Elene, the sharp-tongued youngest—remained by his side.
Guided by strange instincts and a growing connection to mana and aura, Kael began rebuilding not just his body but his family's legacy. Under the tutelage of Sir Osric, a former knight loyal to the Eryndors, he trained day after day. He pushed his body to its limits, faced magical creatures, absorbed memories that seemed to belong to another era, and uttered words in a forbidden tongue: Draconic.
In the end, standing before the shattered statue of his father, Kael made an oath. Amid the ruins, beneath a starry sky, he vowed that the world would remember his House's name once more.
...
The sun had not yet risen, but the first hints of blue already painted the sky above the old Eryndor mansion. The air was cold and damp, typical of the northern highlands. A light mist veiled the fields like a silent shroud, and the shadows of the ruined towers stretched long over the damp stone courtyard.
Kael stood in the same spot where, days before, he had declared his oath. The broken pedestal of the statue remained, worn but now clean—as if the place itself had felt the weight of those words.
"Let the serpent rise... Let the world remember..." he repeated softly, more to himself than to the heavens.
He closed his eyes for a moment. The wind played with the edges of the dark-gray cloak draped over his shoulders. The sword at his waist—restored and adjusted by Lyara—felt lighter than ever. Three aura stars glowed within his core, visible only to those who could sense energy. And now, his first mana ring was complete, rotating smoothly around his core like an ancient gear brought back to life.
Soft footsteps echoed behind him.
"Awake before the roosters... I expected nothing less." Lyara stood there, wrapped in an elegant robe, her hair hastily tied in a bun.
Kael smiled at the sight of her.
"I thought you'd be busy handling contracts for the new granary."
"I was. Until Elene kicked my chair and said her brother was leaving without saying goodbye."
Kael arched an eyebrow.
"That does sound like her."
Lyara stepped closer and touched the golden brooch that fastened his cloak.
"Are you sure about this? Varnir isn't as close as it looks on a map."
"I need to understand the world as it is now. Names have changed, alliances too. I can't rebuild anything just sitting behind walls."
Lyara nodded. There was no reproach in her gaze—only the weight of responsibility borne by someone forced to grow up too soon.
"Don't forget you have a home to return to." She hugged him briefly.
Before he could reply, a loud yawn interrupted them.
"Ugh, I can't believe I woke up for this..." Elene appeared, her hair disheveled, wrapped in a cloak that looked more like a winter cape. "You're really leaving without eating? Mom would've tanned your hide."
Kael laughed and knelt before her.
"Don't worry, Lady Elene. I'll hunt golden apples and talking rabbits along the way."
"Just watch out for strange wizards. And don't take anything from strangers... unless it's a magic sword."
Lyara laughed.
"Yeah, we're definitely the same blood."
Kael stepped back slowly, crossing the iron gates with one last look at the two of them.
"Stay safe. And... take care of Father's statue."
"Take care of yourself, Kael. And write when you can."
"Come back before the next festival!" Elene shouted.
Kael raised his hand, waving without turning back. The wind carried his cloak like a banner into the distance. And then, he disappeared down the road.
...
The road ahead was ancient, flanked by tall pines and covered in moss and dry leaves. Kael followed the main trail cutting through the Myrdhal Vale—a path once used by merchants and troops but now abandoned, reclaimed by nature. Birdsong filled the air, and small squirrels watched the traveler curiously from the branches.
His goal was Varnir, a city nestled in the southern slopes of the Astelorn Mountains. To reach it, he would have to cross dense forests, skirt icy lakes, and—if luck was against him—avoid bandits or stray magical beasts.
Kael took deep breaths as he walked, absorbing the energy of the world around him. Since awakening, his connection to nature felt more alive. He sensed the pulse of aura in the roots of trees, heard the near-inaudible hum of mana hanging in the air like invisible dust. It was as if the world spoke a forgotten language—one he was slowly beginning to understand.
He stopped at a clearing and sat on a lichen-covered rock. Pulling out a piece of dry bread and a leather canteen, he chewed thoughtfully.
"In the past... I was someone else."
"Every day, it becomes clearer—these memories aren't dreams."
"The Draconic words come too easily... and the déjà vu is constant."
"Who was I?" he murmured. "And why was I forgotten?"
Meanwhile, a presence watched him from the shadows of a distant tree. A small figure in a gray tunic scribbled notes on a tiny scroll. The silhouette—not human—vanished as quickly as it appeared. A silent elf, sent by the Elarial Forest, returning to report what it had seen.
Further ahead, the forest thickened. Trees with trunks as wide as castle walls formed natural tunnels, vines hanging like green curtains. The air was cooler here, and little light reached the ground. Kael moved carefully, alert to any unusual sound.
Upon leaving the woods, he found a small stream. Its crystal-clear waters held silver fish darting between the stones. There, he washed, refilled his canteen, and meditated for a few minutes. The aura flowed more clearly in this place.
"Three stars... but there's still so much to learn." He focused on the rotation of his core—like keeping three torches lit in the wind, a delicate and demanding balance.
He pressed on, and by dusk, the first slopes of the mountains came into view. The steep ridges of Astelorn loomed ahead, narrow trails winding through the rocks, clouds shrouding the snow-capped peaks.
Kael spent the night in a shallow cave, using dry branches to light a small fire. The warmth brought comfort as he lay down, sword at his side, eyes fixed on the flames.
"This is only the beginning."
"I'll find allies, honor my oath... and discover who I truly am."
...
Far away, in the Eryndor mansion, someone watched Kael from afar. A shadow in the hall's darkness, wrapped in servant's cloth but with sharp, cold eyes. An unknown figure—a spy, not an elf, but an infiltrator serving Vancor. Their gaze lingered on an old portrait, lips moving almost imperceptibly:
"He's gone."
And silence returned to the north.
[End of Chapter 11]