The vision had been as intense as a silent fire.When Arisha opened her eyes, the real world felt distant, strange — as if her senses hadn't quite anchored themselves back to her body.She lay on a stone bed, wrapped in damp blankets touched by snow someone had tried to melt. Her lips were parted, but no words would come.
"Arisha...?"Rasen's voice was a trembling whisper.
She looked at him, but couldn't answer. Her throat didn't belong to her. Her voice… was occupied.Something else was inside her. A presence that didn't oppress, yet refused to hide. The same one that had spoken through her during the vision, using her lips to declare a forgotten name, an ancient promise.Now, that presence slept… waiting.
Hours passed. The fever faded.But not the images.Every time Arisha closed her eyes, she saw memories that weren't her own.
Fragments:— A broken sword lying before a tower blackened by war.— A blond child crying in the rain as a hooded figure tore him away from his mother.— Blood oaths under a moon stained red.— Sanathiel's smile... younger, freer, before the world's weight turned him into a wolf. And the sweet image of a woman with warm green eyes and a gentle smile.
Each image cracked her heart a little more.Were they Sanathiel's memories? Or something even older?
"Your mother..." Sanathiel whispered. "You're like me, but you carry Aisha's spirit — her strength, her fire, her stubbornness."My origin... Arisha thought, feeling pieces begin to align.
When she tried to stand, a tremor forced her to brace against the wall. And that's when she felt it.Someone was watching her.
A silhouette stood in the shadows of the doorway.
"You came far to awaken what was meant to remain sealed," the figure murmured.It wasn't Rasen. It wasn't Falco.
"Lionel...?" she tried to ask, but her voice remained trapped.
The stranger stepped forward, wrapped in a dark frost-covered coat. His eyes were the color of wet steel.
"You must return to the tower. It's not time. Not for you."
But when he reached out to touch her, the air exploded — literally.An invisible shockwave hurled him against the wall with brutal force.And the floor beneath Arisha's feet cracked, as if something inside her had awakened.
Her eyes burned.A white light — ethereal and violent — burst from her back, as if an ancient mark had decided to rewrite itself into her flesh.She didn't know what she had done. She didn't know how.But the fear was gone.
For the first time since escaping the prison, the world no longer felt like a threat.Somewhere in the world, echoes stirred — of ancient clans who had broken their pacts, betrayed the moon, and turned their backs on the Banished One.They felt it.A warning.A return.
Lionel stood up, stunned, a shallow cut crossing his face.
"It can't be..." he murmured, almost in fear.
A creak at the entrance interrupted the moment.A new figure appeared in the doorway: tall, cloaked in black, hood down, and a gray scarf covering part of his face.His eyes — an icy, piercing blue — landed on Arisha.
Lionel stepped back.
"You... you shouldn't be alive."
"And yet," the newcomer replied, his voice deep and calm, carrying an odd peace, "I still walk the snow you all betrayed."
Arisha stared at him, caught between the trembling of her power and the silence of that new presence.
"Who are you?"
He lowered the scarf slightly, revealing just part of his face.
"Salomon. Original Nevri. Keeper of the White Blade's memory."
Then the echo resounded. Not in the room. In her mind."The legacy still breathes. Through you."
Sanathiel's legacy wasn't entirely lost.Not as long as his flame still burned within Arisha.And now, the Keeper of the White Blade walked beside her.