I don't know how long I sat there after it happened.
Knees in the dirt. Fingers curled too tight around a sword that wasn't even real steel.
My chest ached, but not from training. Not even from the Veilstep.
It was the silence. The stillness after the movement. Like the air itself was waiting to see if I'd break.
I think part of me already had.
Veilstep worked.
I phased. I struck.
I did something impossible.
And yet all I could think about was how it felt—how right it felt.
Not just the magic.
The wildness.
The Beast.
The way my body lunged forward like it remembered being hurt.
The way my arms moved like they'd always known how to fight back.
Back in my old life, I never fought.
I couldn't.
I just curled up, let the blows land, hoped the bruises wouldn't show too much through my shirt.
Even when I wanted to scream—I didn't.
But here?
Now?
Something inside me was screaming for freedom.
Magic. Style. Movement.
They weren't things I was taught.
They were things I was.
Things that clawed their way to the surface like they'd been buried too deep for too long.
And I hate that it felt good.
I hate that every step, every flash of shadow, every strike that came from instinct instead of instruction—
It felt more like me than anything else I've done in this world.
More than etiquette lessons.
More than family dinners with fake smiles and silverware I still don't understand.
More than the polite nods, the forced laughter, the quiet lies I've been stacking like bricks just to survive.
This?
This was real.
And it terrified me.
Because real things can be seen.
Real things can be found.
And if anyone finds out…
If my parents knew—if Calden knew—if she told anyone…
Nareva.
God.
Nareva saw me.
I don't know how long I stayed curled up after she found me—just a stupid, shaking boy surrounded by ripped soil and whispering shadows.
But when her voice broke the silence—soft, steady, calm—I almost lost it.
I thought she'd scream. Call the guards. Drag me back in chains or something worse.
Instead…
She just knelt beside me. Said my name. Like she didn't know what she saw. Or maybe didn't want to know.
And now I'm here.
Back in my bed.
Blanket pulled over my head like that'll protect me from the storm I just started.
My heartbeat still hasn't slowed.
She hasn't told anyone.
Yet.
But she will.
Eventually.
Unless…
Unless I tell her not to.
Beg her not to.
I've never begged before. Not properly.
Not with words.
Back in my old world, I begged in silence.
With lowered eyes.
With the way I flinched when someone raised their voice.
With the way I stopped talking in class so no one would notice me.
That was my version of a plea.
But this time?
I think I have to actually speak.
And that scares me more than any shadow spell ever could.
Because if I ask her—really ask—and she says no?
Then it's over.
The noble son with no magic? A lie.
The Ghostborn family's perfect heir? A failure.
Kaelen Selkareth?
Exposed.
Takuya Sugino all over again.
Powerless in a world built to crush people like me.
…
But if she keeps my secret—
If she listens, if she understands—
Then maybe… just maybe…
I won't have to hide alone anymore.
Maybe I'll get to be both.
The boy with magic.
The boy with a sword.
The boy who came from nothing but might still become something.
Even if I have to fight like a beast to make it happen.
--Nareva--
--Entry 23--
They call him Kaelen Selkareth.
He is noble. He is Ghostborn.
He is everything I was raised to respect from a distance.
And yet… there's something wrong.
No.
Not wrong.
Different.
When I stand near him, I feel it.
A pressure. A hum. Like the air doesn't quite settle.
Ghostborn are meant to be empty. But he is not.
He looks at the world like someone who's already been broken by it.
He hides it well. But not from me.
--Entry 26--
I heard something last night.
Footsteps. Not loud. Not clumsy. But desperate.
I followed them to the attic.
He was there.
Crouched in shadow. A candle guttering beside him.
A book open. Not one from the Selkareth library.
He didn't see me.
I should've left. I should've reported it.
But I didn't.
I watched.
The way he moved… not noble. Not trained.
Like he was clawing for something he thought was his by right.
Like he needed it to breathe.
I'm scared of what I saw.
More scared of what I didn't.
--Entry 29--
I couldn't sleep.
Not because of what I saw—
Because of what he said.
"I'm not supposed to have mana," he whispered to himself.
And yet he cast a spell. A real one.
When I entered the room, he looked at me like I was a blade drawn.
Then… he begged me.
Not like a noble child.
Not like someone who thought they were above me.
He begged like someone used to being hurt when they're found out.
I saw the cracks in his voice.
And I told him I wouldn't tell.
Gods help me. I meant it.
--Entry 36--
He begged me not to tell.
I didn't expect it. Not from him. Kaelen has always had this strange, quiet confidence, like someone pretending to be smaller than they are. But today… he looked broken.
"I'm not hurting anyone," he said. "Please, Nareva. Please don't tell them."
His voice cracked near the end. And when I looked in his eyes, I didn't see a noble's heir or some magical anomaly.
I saw a boy.
Terrified.
Lonely.
Clinging to the only piece of himself he still thinks is his.
I told him I wouldn't. I don't know if he believed me. I'm not sure if I believed myself.
But I meant it.
--Entry 38--
I asked myself what I'd do if he lost control.
Would I stop him?
Would I turn him in?
Would I lie to Thalira's face and tell her her son was just another quiet, ordinary boy?
I don't know.
What I do know is this: something's coming. I can feel it. And if Kaelen is meant to survive it—whatever "it" is—then maybe he needs to be ready for more than sword drills and silence.
Maybe it's time I teach him what no one else can.