SIA
I had reached a critical point in this long story about Lucius. The truth needed to be shared—the truth about his past. Even if it was only a fragmented version built from careful reflection, it was still important. Whether he accepted it or not was his choice. I had done my part. Now, the weight of it all rested on his shoulders.
"A guardian angel, huh?" Lucius said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "That sounds nice… Maybe the person you think took care of me really was an angel, at least in spirit." He paused, brushing a hand through his messy hair, clearly uncomfortable as he tried to make light of the heavy thoughts pressing down on him. "But I've noticed something—you talk like it was just one person who raised me, not a group or a family. Why's that? Just a guess? Or is this one of your strange but strangely believable theories again?"
He gave a short, dry laugh, but I didn't answer with humour.
"Andromeda Skydagger," I said, careful with my tone.
I saw his eyes flicker. He knew the name, of course. Sara's idol, the Champion of Verdun. Lucius blinked, caught off guard, then slowly nodded as if trying to understand why I was bringing her up now.
"She had an unusual childhood, too," I explained. "She wasn't raised by her parents. They were too busy with their own lives. Instead, one person took care of her in complete isolation. No extended family. No other kids. No community. Just her and her caretaker."
Lucius listened quietly. I kept going.
"That kind of life, being hidden away like that, it changes you. Andromeda grew up struggling to talk to people. When my battalion was assigned to protect her, she was quiet, awkward, unsure how to connect. Especially in groups. Sound familiar?"
His eyes narrowed slightly, then widened before going still again. He was listening—really listening.
Lucius and Andromeda… they were similar in more ways than I'd admitted out loud before. Both had that strange mix of being great in one-on-one conversations, but lost in crowds. Withdrawn. Hesitant. Like they'd only ever had one real person in their lives. One person they loved deeply. One person they trusted. Likely someone who died right in front of them.
"Whoever raised you," I said, voice quieter now, "gave you more than just love. They trained you. They taught you things you didn't even realise. You learned fast—faster than most kids ever could. You impressed me with your sword skills after just one week. That kind of talent doesn't just come from books. Someone guided you. Someone made sure you could protect yourself. And even if your mind forgot the lessons, your body didn't."
I paused, letting him take it all in.
"You didn't come into this world unprepared, Lucius. Someone prepared you for everything that followed. And that's not something I could've ignored."
LUCIUS
As I sank deeper into my thoughts, a strange realisation began to take shape. Maybe this was why I had never felt any anger toward the mysterious figure from my past. I tried to make sense of it, searching my mind for answers, but nothing surfaced. Everything about that connection remained frustratingly unclear. Perhaps it was because I had never seen Sia as a mother. That part of my heart already belonged to someone else—someone whose memory, though hidden deep within me, refused to fade.
Even though Sia had cared for me with warmth and devotion throughout my youth, it seemed my body just couldn't give her that title. Not fully. Not in the way that mattered.
It was a heavy thought—one I hadn't expected to confront when I woke her. Yet somehow, I felt… grateful. Grateful to have uncovered even fragments of my past, even if they were uncertain or possibly imagined. But that gratitude quickly turned into confusion. Doubt clouded everything. I didn't know what to believe or who to trust. And some truths, I feared, might be better left buried.
I forced the thought away and brought myself back to the reason I'd come here in the first place.
"About the Wraiths…" I began again.
Sia's crimson eyes didn't leave mine. She studied me, trying to understand the chaos inside me. But she let it go for now, choosing instead to focus on the subject I had raised.
"You think they're connected to you somehow," she said slowly. "Like they're tied to your existence, or maybe even born from it."
I nodded, thinking about Arcane—the one whose brilliant mind had first suggested such a possibility.
"I won't rule it out," Sia said, her voice calm but sharp. "But it's hard to believe they're directly linked to you. Still… Arcane's not someone I'd ignore. His theories make sense. The Wraiths do share certain traits with you—the way they move, the way they vanish without a trace, mimicking the principle of Absolute Zero."
She leaned back slightly, thinking aloud.
"But this phasing thing—the way they supposedly become untouchable—that's much harder to accept. If they can really shift like that, it means one of two things. Either the Wraiths aren't real at all—just illusions used to distract us from what the Nmanas are truly doing, or someone is biding their time, waiting to strike when we least expect it."
A chill ran through me as she continued.
"If they're the Wraiths are indeed real, and they've already made it into our cities," she warned, "then they're invincible, especially with a derivative of Absolute Zero masking their presence... If that's indeed the case, then we might be facing something even worse than the Great War from a thousand years ago."
She paused, her eyes narrowing as she studied me again.
"My honest opinion? The Wraiths are a smokescreen. They've got to be, the real threat is the Nmanas or whoever is abducting them. They're the ones working behind the scenes. They've got a deeper plan while using the Wraiths as a form of distraction, one that even Arcane might not fully understand. You should keep your focus on them, just like he told you to."
I listened quietly, absorbing each word.
Then, with a softer look, she turned the conversation back to me.
"As for your past—that's your journey. How you move forward depends on how you choose to face it. But I want you to remember something: you weren't abandoned. You were placed. Maybe not by fate, but by someone who made a deliberate choice to give you a fighting chance."
She tilted her head slightly, letting the idea settle between us.
"Think about it. Maybe you're from a noble bloodline. Maybe you're the hidden heir to something grand. Maybe even the lost son of an emperor, hidden away under layers of sorrow and sacrifice. The truth about where you come from? It could be anything. The possibilities are endless."
'A fighting chance, huh?' Her words lingered like a heavy mist, full of warning, but also full of promises...
***
The night air was cold—sharp enough to bite through my cloak and sink deep into my bones as I stepped outside. It was long past midnight. The hour weighed on me like a coiled tension in my chest, and the wind howled with a wildness that mirrored the storm inside me. Overhead, the moon glowed high and silver, casting a pale light over the land. It made everything feel distant, almost dreamlike, as if the world itself held its breath. The chaos outside, and within, existed side by side under that eerie glow.
Each step I took toward Buck was slow and deliberate. It was a familiar path, one I usually crossed in just over an hour at a brisk pace. But tonight, I moved with the sluggish rhythm of someone carrying too much. My body felt heavy, not just from exhaustion, but from the weight of memories and unresolved thoughts.
I was drained. Mentally. Emotionally. My body ached for sleep, for the comfort of forgetting. But walking, strangely, offered something like peace. Even in my weariness, there was something soothing about it. The cold air kept my thoughts sharp, and the wind rushing through the trees was oddly comforting. The darkness wrapped around me, not as a threat, but as a companion—one that had walked beside me more times than I could count.
After our talk, I gently stepped away. Sia had known. She always did. Her soft protest had lingered in my ears, asking me to stay, to rest. And she wasn't wrong. Rest was the smarter choice. But tonight, the pull to wander was too strong. I needed this time alone. The need to walk, to think, to feel without anyone watching—it outweighed everything else.
We'd touched on pieces of my past, but my mind kept drifting back to something more urgent. The Wraiths. The shadowy things that haunted the edges of truth. What Sia didn't know—what I couldn't bring myself to tell her—was that I already knew too much. That I had heard Forza's perspective. That, for some, the Wraiths were nothing more than a clever lie. A scarecrow. A reason to herd adventurers and knights back into the safety of cities while the alliance quietly cleaned up what remained of the corrupted beasts.
But there was more. Something deeper. She didn't know about the sickness that Sara and I had felt inside Ahana's house. That crawling, nauseating sense of being watched by something that didn't belong in this world. That feeling couldn't be explained with logic. It was something you had to live to understand.
Then it happened. A faint sound, a sensation that shouldn't be heard, shouldn't exist.
WOOSSH
A sound, unfathomably deep and pulsing, cracked through the night like a heartbeat that didn't belong to any living thing. My instincts flared, reacting before my thoughts could catch up. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
The trees above swayed like dark giants, and the shadows they cast stretched over the dried earth in long, jagged patterns. The moonlight, once bright, soft and reassuring, now felt too dull, too sharp. It painted everything in a dark, silver-like colour and dread.
My core ignited without hesitation. Mana surged within me as I steadied my breath, taking control of my pace. No panic. Only precision. Unlike the chaotic flight I had shared with Sara, tonight, I moved with calm readiness.
I let my senses widen, sharpen. The mana around me hummed. With practised ease, I summoned Snowhite—my blade materialising beside me in a burst of soft, translucent light. Its presence grounded me. A reminder that I wasn't helpless.
I pushed my mind outward, into the ether, feeling for anything that lurked beyond sight. The area was dead quiet. Too quiet. But the feeling was there—subtle, but undeniable. I wasn't alone.
Drawing in the ambient mana from my surroundings, I extended it outward like a ripple, a pulse of mana force, searching. Probing. Calling them out. Whatever was hiding, cloaked in stealth and false silence, couldn't fool me. I wanted them to know I sensed them. That I was ready.
And then they came.
Like ink leaking from the edges of night, shadowy figures slipped from the darkness. They moved with a quiet grace, stepping into the moonlight as if they had always been part of it. No sound. No threat spoken aloud. Just their presence—calm, deliberate, dangerous.
My fingers curled tighter around the hilt of Snowhite, its light reflecting off the pale edges of their forms. My heart pounded, but not from fear. It was focused. Instinct. The part of me that had trained for every moment like these.
I had wandered far from the city's protection. There were no knights here. No patrols. No backup. Just me and the night.
But I wasn't afraid.
Whoever they were, whatever they were planning, they had made a mistake by thinking I was alone and vulnerable.