The pale morning light filtered through the cracks in the ruined structure of the old Eryndor palace, tinting the rubble and moss-covered stones in gold. Silence reigned, broken only by the wind slicing through empty corridors and the distant clinking of tools — an unusual activity in a place that, for years, had known only abandonment.
[Kael's Perspective]
Kael awoke with a heavy head and a body still aching from the previous night. The vision, the fusion between aura and magic… it still felt like a dream. But the burning in his muscles and the charred rune on the stone before him said otherwise. His core pulsed gently, as if adapting to a new reality. One he barely understood.
"You're already up?" came Lyara's voice, laced with both surprise and relief.
She was leaning against the entrance to the hall, arms crossed. Deep dark circles under her eyes betrayed her lack of sleep, and the plain dress she wore made it clear she hadn't rested much.
"Sleep seems to have become a luxury," Kael said, trying to smile, but staggering as he stood.
She rushed to catch him.
"Kael, you nearly died yesterday. What you did… that wasn't normal."
"Nothing in my life has been, lately," he replied, leaning on her for support.
Together, they walked toward the inner courtyard.
There, Kael saw something he hadn't expected: people. Around a dozen men and women occupied the yard, sweeping, washing, hauling stones. All wore humble clothing and bore expressions somewhere between apathy and disdain.
"Who are they?" he asked.
Lyara took a deep breath.
"The ones who remained… or rather, the ones who let us remain."
She discreetly pointed to a man with a short beard and an arrogant look, giving out orders.
"Lord Vancor of Eldam. Just a second son from a minor house, but he was 'assigned' to help us reorganize the lands. All these servants are from other houses — spies disguised as charity."
"They're here to humiliate us," Kael muttered, narrowing his eyes.
"And to ensure we don't rebuild House Eryndor beyond what's permitted."
Kael felt his blood boil. He watched a young woman with light brown hair wring a cloth so tightly it seemed she wanted to snap something. Noticing his gaze, she offered a faint, mocking smile.
"I could drive them out right now…" he began, voice low and heavy.
"No," Lyara said firmly. "We can't give them a reason to destroy us completely."
"You want me to accept this? To smile at spies as they trample over our house's ashes?"
"I want you to survive. And rebuild everything. But with cunning, not rage."
Kael turned his face away, fighting the urge to unleash his aura then and there.
That's when something else caught his attention.
An old knight was approaching, his steps firm despite his age. His bearing revealed years of service and battle. He had a graying beard, worn armor, and a gaze that mixed sternness and respect.
"Sir Osric," Lyara said, visibly relieved. "He… stayed."
Sir Osric stopped before Kael and struck his chest with a clenched fist in a ceremonial salute.
"Your grace." His voice was hoarse, like stone scraping stone.
Kael raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not sure I can still be called that."
"And I'm not sure truth stops being truth just because fools forget it," the old knight replied.
Kael smiled, faintly.
"Why did you stay?"
"Because I owed your father. And because I refuse to serve rats wearing crowns."
With that, he pulled from within his cloak a small silver medallion, engraved with the Eryndor family crest.
"Your father asked me to give you this when you awoke. He said you'd understand when the time came."
Kael took the medallion carefully. As he touched it, a wave of warmth surged through him, as if something ancient had stirred.
Inside was a hidden compartment. Upon opening it, he found a fragment of old parchment, arcane symbols circling a central ring.
"A map?" he murmured.
"A seal," Osric corrected. "A path to something only you can access. Your father called it the 'echo of the first core.'"
Kael stared at the medallion, confused.
"Core?"
Lyara stepped closer.
"You don't know about the rankings yet, do you?"
Kael shook his head.
[Lyara's Perspective – Explanation of Cores and Rankings]
"Every person who awakens aura or magic develops a spiritual core. It's invisible, but it can be felt by those who know how to look for it. And it can be classified."
She drew in the dirt with her finger:
"Knights possess stars that form around their core. The more stars, the stronger the warrior. A beginner has one star. Masters have five or six. Legends… reach seven, maybe eight. The eighth star is considered the human body's limit."
Sir Osric cleared his throat.
"Mages, on the other hand, have rings. Rings that orbit the magical core, indicating control and power. A common mage has one or two rings. An archmage? Seven or even nine, if the legends aren't lies."
Kael's eyes widened.
"I have… both."
"A rare phenomenon," murmured Lyara. "And dangerous."
"Not just that," Osric added. "It's something that hasn't happened in centuries. The last man with a dual core started a ten-year war."
Kael said nothing. He felt torn between honor and fear.
[Elene's Perspective – In the Garden]
Meanwhile, Elene was picking herbs in the side garden, guided by small lights only she could see.
"He's changing," whispered one of the fae.
"For better or worse?" Elene asked.
The fae spun in the air, thoughtful.
"It's too soon to tell. But the seal in the medallion… it's connected to something ancient. Something from before the kingdoms."
Elene looked out toward the horizon.
"Then he will need us."
The fae nodded. "Everyone will."
[Kael's Perspective – Meeting the Servants]
Later, Kael chose to walk among the servants. It was time to know them.
The smirking young woman reappeared, now carrying a basket of provisions. Upon seeing Kael, she gave an exaggerated bow.
"Your greatness. Bread or sarcasm for breakfast?"
Kael stared at her a moment, then smiled.
"I'm hungry for both. But let's start with your name."
"Arienne. House Dalmar, if that matters."
"Serves well. Perhaps too much spirit."
She laughed.
"Well, it's that or die of boredom spying on the fallen."
"Then the fallen has decided to rise."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Careful with that. Some prefer you stay on the ground."
Kael curved his lips in a half-smile.
"And you?"
She hesitated, then smiled.
"I like watching the impossible try. It's fun."
He took a few steps away, leaving her behind, but made a mental note: Arienne was not ordinary.
[Sir Osric's Perspective – Nighttime Reflection]
That night, Sir Osric sat near the fire, sharpening his old sword.
"They have no idea what's coming," he murmured.
Lyara approached, bringing him a cup of tea.
"You think Kael is ready?"
"No one ever is. But he's the closest we'll get."
He looked up at the stars.
"When the true dual-core bearer awakens, the bells of the sky echo. Things begin to stir… above and below."
Lyara frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"That soon, it won't just be servants and nobles watching us. It'll be the very pillars of the world."
She stayed silent.
"Then we need to prepare."
Sir Osric gave a bitter smile.
"We're already late."