Descending the stairs, Kael suddenly stopped.
The boards creaked beneath his feet, and he stood there, holding his breath, staring downward. Before his eyes the familiar scene slowly took shape: the bar counter, before which stood empty wooden tables. One of them was already set—simple food, bread, stew, a bowl of pickles.
And there… silhouettes. A man and a woman sat side by side, but their faces remained hidden by Kael’s angle of view. As if the world itself deliberately stretched the mont, refusing to let him see more.
Kael’s heart pounded so hard it seed his chest would burst. He could never have imagined he would see this again. That which for him had been only a painful mory.
Kris easily darted past him, skipped two steps at once, and dashed to the table. Her ringing laughter filled the hall, as though restoring life to the ho that had long been empty of it.
Then ca a deep, confident voice:
“Son, why are you standing there?”
Kael’s chest felt pierced by a hundred needles. Goosebumps ran across his skin, his breath caught. A voice he had not heard in seven hundred years. A voice he had dread of, but long ago ceased to hope to hear again.
His fingers clutched at the railing, as if to keep himself from falling.
“I must pull myself together,” he sternly reminded himself. “I need to behave at least sowhat as I did in childhood. Sudden changes might alarm them. I must change gradually…”
mory worked like a sharpened blade. Every old habit, every motion, every gesture—each sprang to life in his mind. He lowered his head slightly, giving his face the weary, habitually sullen look, and lifted his shoulders just a little.
Taking a deep breath, Kael slowly stepped down.
And in the next instant—he truly saw them.
His father sat at the head of the table. Tall, muscular, with the hands of a man who each day lifted heavy stones and beams. His golden eyes glowed with warmth, and his long white hair was tied into a rough knot at the nape of his neck. Even that ridiculous goatee, the one young Kael had secretly laughed at, was there.
Kael nearly lost control of his expression.
Then his gaze slid to the woman. His mother. She sat with her back straight, as always, dignity intact even in a simple dress. Ink-black hair fell softly over her shoulders. Her red, deep eyes looked at him with such love that sothing clenched in Kael’s chest. A gentle, tender smile played on her lips.
“How are you feeling?” she asked kindly, tilting her head slightly. “Kris said you’ve been acting a little strange today…”
His father grunted, catching his son’s gaze. His voice sounded stern, though beneath the sternness was care:
“Put your books aside, son. I didn’t beco a mage either, but I still did plenty of good for the city as a builder. You could work with …”
“Kassias!” the mother instantly kicked him under the table, casting him a sharp glance. “Kael still has a year left to try. Don’t pressure him…”
Kael barely held back from breaking into a smile. Too much inside him clamored to escape, but he forced himself to remain composed. He only gave a slight nod and, to his father’s surprise, said:
“Lately I’ve been reading so interesting books. Perhaps I’ve found a tiny chance to move forward.”
Pain flickered in Kassias’s eyes—pain impossible to hide. Clearly he pitied his son, and he understood that all of Kael’s efforts were self-deception. But he kept silent.
His mother hurried to change the subject. Her voice was warm again:
“Sit down, son. Otherwise Kris will eat all your at.”
Kael gave a quiet chuckle and, steadying the tremor in his hands, took his place at the table.
He glanced around—the walls of the house, familiar down to the last scratch. Every object echoed in his soul. And when the first bite of his mother’s cooking touched his tongue, he lowered his head to hide his eyes. Tears welled on their own.
“In the Divine Library I tasted many dishes… But nothing compares to my mother’s food,” the thought rushed through him.
He chewed slowly, savoring each mont, as if afraid that everything would crumble to dust if he so much as blinked.
“In the north, in the mountains,” his father began calmly, clinking his spoon against the rim of his bowl, “they’ve opened a new mana stone mine. Today we’ll be reinforcing the tunnels, a few passages need to be sealed again—after the rains, there was a collapse.”
His mother frowned, her hand tightening for a mont on the edge of the tablecloth. Her voice carried a clear note of worry:
“Perhaps you shouldn’t go, Kassias? After all, it’s beyond Lasthold’s walls…”
Kassias only smirked, but in his answer was the confidence of a man who knew the weight of risk:
“Don’t worry, Mira. We won’t be alone. We’ll be accompanied by Steel Mages—they’ll cover the work crews if beasts appear. And, by rumor, the approach to the mine will be under the watch of a Silver Mage from the Ancient Roots Family.”
Mira’s head shot up, her brows rising in surprise:
“A Silver?” she almost whispered. “Oh… Then the mine must be promising indeed, if they’ve assigned so many mages to guard it.”
Kassias nodded, his gaze fixed on the window, where the early bustle of the street was already reaching them: wagons, traders’ voices, the cries of birds. He spoke evenly, yet in his words there was pride—not in the harvest, but in feeding his ho and giving people work.
“If the mana stones prove to be good quality,” he added, “Lasthold will gain more resources, more building contracts, and the craftsn will have work. This isn’t just labor for oneself—it’s a contribution for all of us.”
Mira still hadn’t relaxed, but she looked at her husband with trust. Her hand unconsciously ca to rest on Kael’s, and in that touch was so much maternal care that Kael felt his heart ache once more.
At that mont, the bell above the restaurant door jingled, and two burly n stepped inside. Their next words made it clear—they were Kassias’s acquaintances.
“Good morning, Kassias! Mistress, bring us two soups, and plenty of bread!”
The other, laughing good-naturedly, added:
“And give us extra at, for old friendship’s sake. Your husband and I will need the strength today!”
Kassias laughed and shot back:
“By your sly faces I can see you just want to learn more about the mine. You ca here on purpose, to sniff things out from ?”
The two approached, still chuckling, and began questioning him about the work ahead. Kael listened in silence as his father readily answered, speaking calmly, not hiding that the work would be hard but organized: the Steel Mages holding guard within, the Silver patrolling the surroundings.
While the n carried on their talk, Mira rose from the table, adjusted her apron, and went into the kitchen to prepare the food. Their voices and laughter mingled with the quiet clatter of dishes behind the door.
Kael remained in his place. He ate quietly, trying to “be himself,” while at the sa ti weighing what he had heard and recalling Lasthold’s structure.
“Steel… Silver…” the thought ran through his head. “That’s right. Lasthold’s rank system is terribly primitive. They’ve long since lost the knowledge of universal mage levels, replacing them with simple analogies to precious tals…”
At that mont, Kris, chewing the last bite of bread, suddenly leapt from her seat.
“I’m full! Thanks, Mom!” she called brightly toward the kitchen, and already on the run added: “I’m off to the academy! They’ve probably been waiting for forever!”
The door slamd, and her light footsteps faded beyond the threshold.
Kael drew a deep breath, finished his portion, and slowly rose from the table.
“I’ll go as well,” he said calmly, striving to keep his voice steady as usual. “Thank you, Mother.”
From the kitchen ca:
“Have a good day, son!” Mira’s voice was warm and gentle.
And Kassias, without pausing in his talk with the n, only gave a short nod to his son. His eyes at that mont shone with focused resolve. For everyone except Kael—today was an ordinary day, no different from the rest.
Kael quietly left the restaurant—his ho as well—and the door closed softly behind him, cutting off the voices of his father and the n.
He stepped into the street, and the whole world seed to co alive around him. The narrow lanes of the trade quarter buzzed like hives. rchants laid out cloth, vegetables, and at on their stalls; barrels clattered off carts, horses snorted in harness, and above the din rang the cries of hawkers. The air was thick with scents—fresh bread, the smoke of morning fires, and the acrid dust kicked up by wagon wheels.
Crowds of children in matching robes stread along the cobblestones—most of them hurrying in the sa direction: westward, where the spires of the Academy of Spirit Mages rose. Laughter, squabbles, and the shuffle of feet filled the streets.
Kael stepped after them. His stride was steady, but deep inside he felt a heat he hadn’t known in centuries.
“Once, this road filled with despair and dread…” he thought, as his lips twitched into an unbidden smile. “But now… I feel inspired.”
He walked while gathering his thoughts into order.
“I’ve cooled a little from the shock. Ti to make a minimal plan, so I don’t squander this second chance…”
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Kael lifted his head to the sky. It was clear, translucent, and a light breeze drove scattered clouds across it. Autumn was only just arriving: the sky still held sumr’s warmth, but the air was fresh, bracing, almost ringing.
“Judging by this body… I’m about fifteen now. On the street—it’s early autumn. Classes at the academy must have only just begun. That ans there are still six months until the fatal events…”
Kael’s thoughts flowed further, becoming cold and calculating.
“The best of my classmates are already at the peak of Core Mage… or, in local terms, Bronze Mage. And I… for now, I’m just a mortal. Even Kris is stronger than .”
Kael slowed his steps, dissolving into the noisy crowd. His gaze stayed fixed ahead, but his mind sank deeper into the past. From the outside he looked odd, and so children began pointing and laughing at him.
“Academy of Spirit Mages…” he thought.
Scenes rose in his mory unbidden, as if he were living them again. In Lasthold, children were sent to the Academy at twelve. The first year was only theory and physical training. They were taught discipline, the theory of magic, and simple exercises for the body.
“At thirteen they started testing aptitude for the basic Canon of Magic from Lasthold, and most important of all—they asured the talent of the body. That is, the speed of absorbing mana. It was then that I was first branded talentless…”
A shadow of old bitterness flickered across Kael’s face, but he quickly crushed it.
“By fourteen, most students had already begun forming their own Mana Core. And by fifteen, they broke through to the level of Core Mage, or as they call it here, Bronze Mage.”
The crowd of children chattered and shoved beside him, but Kael walked slowly, hearing only himself.
“By the end of this school year I must break through to Channel Mage—the local Steel rank. Then I’ll be able to continue training and undergo military preparation. But…”
He pressed his lips tight, his eyes losing focus, as if he weren’t looking at Lasthold’s streets but into his own future.
“The Canon of Primordial Void is powerful and perfectly suited to my Form of Soul. But can I manage two breakthroughs in just six months? And more importantly—without mana stones, pills, or elixirs…”
A strange pang rose in his chest. He had lived hundreds of years in slavery, yet had never been allowed to develop mana. And now, for the first ti after all that, he would walk the path he had once only dread of.
“I don’t even know what my progression speed will be…” he thought, with a self-mocking smile.
Kael frowned and quickened his step a little, as if to break free of the chaos of children’s voices around him.
“My parents won’t have the money for quality mana stones…” he noted coldly. “And given my so-called ‘talentlessness,’ they’ll hardly see the point. To them it will be a waste…”
His amber eyes glead with calm resolve.
“Which ans—I’ll have to find a way to earn it myself. Fortunately, I happen to have, let’s say, more than enough knowledge…”
That thought seed to light up a map of the city in his mory. Before his inner sight appeared a specific place—a complex of gray stone buildings with narrow windows and tall spires. It was not far from the Academy of Spirit Mages.
“The Hall of Ancient Research…” Kael thought.
Lasthold had survived the fall of the great civilization of spirit mages. In its vaults still lay hundreds, thousands of ancient records, books, clay tablets, and scrolls. Most remained unsolved mysteries.
Once, the Hall had been a powerful organization: every deciphered text brought the city new knowledge, sotis even combat techniques or craft thods—alchemy recipes, instructions for magic scrolls, or techniques for refining mana stones. But the years passed, and the “simple” texts were long exhausted.
“By now, only a heap of incredibly complex encrypted knowledge remains,” Kael thought, a sly gleam in his eyes. “And it’s rarely deciphered at all…”
He smirked to himself.
“Rare—for them. For , after hundreds of years in the Divine Library, such riddles will be a stroll…”
Kael lowered his gaze, his thoughts continuing to flow of their own accord:
“Though the Hall of Ancient Research has lost its prestige, the major families still support it… I recall they pay rewards for deciphering useful texts… Could I prove that—”
But his thoughts were cut short by a bright, clear female voice, yanking him from his inner stream.
“Hey! Kael, wait!”
He spun sharply around.
A girl his age was hurrying toward him. Long crimson hair stread behind her like tongues of fla. Red eyes shone with liveliness and joy, reflecting the light of the morning sun. A wide smile played across her face, and her whole presence radiated that sincere warmth that could thaw anyone.
But Kael’s heart did not answer with joy. Instead, a cold shiver of caution crawled down his spine. His gaze grew heavier, and his inner voice instantly spoke her na:
“Roselle…”
Watching her rush toward him, Kael noted silently and coldly:
“I rember I once liked her… But pity—today I’ll have to hurt a little girl.”
Roselle all but flew up to him, her light steps fading as she caught Kael by the hand. Warm fingers closed around his palm with the kind of certainty that suggested she had never doubted their closeness.
“You’re gloomy as ever!” she exclaid with cheerful stubbornness. “I’ve waited all sumr to see you again! As usual, we’ll et after class in the academy library?”
She raised a brow and smiled slyly, noticing he didn’t react at all.
“Oh? Sothing new… You’re not flustered by my touch? Could it be you’ve grown up while we were apart?”
Her eyes sparkled with mischievous curiosity, her smile growing even wider, but in Kael’s heart there was only indifference. After seven hundred years, he had almost forgotten how to interact, how to play the gas of society.
Only—she could not have expected what ca next.
Kael gently but firmly freed his hand from hers. His movents were courteous, as though he wished not to wound her feelings by the gesture. He inclined his head slightly and spoke softly:
“Roselle… I really have grown up. And I’ve co to understand sothing.”
The girl’s smile broadened further, clearly not noticing the shift in his voice:
“And what is it?”
Kael lifted his gaze to her. Amber eyes, calm yet unyielding, t her shining glance.
“Forgive ,” his voice rang firm, “but we need to stop speaking with one another.”
Roselle’s smile froze, as if doused with ice water. Her red eyes widened, her breath caught.
“But… but…” the words tangled in her throat. “Why? Did I… did I do sothing to offend you? Kael, if I did sothing wrong…”
He raised a hand, halting her, his voice carrying a seriousness that sent a chill across the skin:
“Of course not. I’m grateful you ever spoke with at all. But…”
“But what?!” the girl cried, almost in panic.
Kael exhaled, and his words carried a cold sobriety:
“You’re betrothed to Darius. One of the direct descendants of the Vengeful Thunder Family. We’re growing up… And if anyone so much as suspects there’s sothing romantic between us… It will be the end of and my family.”
Roselle flinched as if burned. She threw up her hands, her eyes flaring, her voice ringing with outrage:
“No, what are you saying!” she shouted. “The Vengeful Thunder Family may be hot-tempered, but they’d never do sothing like that! Besides, I’ll beco strong enough that no one will dare to marry off! So to hell with Darius!”
On Kael’s face appeared an ironic, almost painful smile. His thoughts echoed coldly:
“They’d never do that?.. They already have. You just don’t know it yet.”
Naturally, that was sothing he could never tell her.
He only shook his head and, trying to sound as rational as possible, said:
“I truly am sorry, Roselle. It’s not so much my own life I fear for… I just don’t want to see my family suffer.”
The girl’s eyes, which had burned with resolve only monts ago, suddenly welled with tears. Her cheeks flushed, her breath grew ragged.
“It’s not fair!” she cried, her voice quivering with pain. “Why can’t I live in peace?! Why can’t I talk to you and choose whom to love?!”
She hastily wiped at her eyes with her palm, but the tears glittered again on her lashes.
“I loved it when you retold all those boring books I never had the patience for…” her voice cracked, dropping to a desperate whisper. “Those monts were the only thing that brightened my days… And now you’re telling I have to give them up!”
“Unfair!” she shouted again, her voice breaking with pain.
Unexpectedly, Kael’s heart gave a small twist at the sight. He hadn’t anticipated such emotions from himself, and he muttered inwardly:
“Damn it… watching Roselle cry is rather unpleasant… I wonder, is this my own mind’s feeling, or my young body’s reaction to the girl it once cared for?”
For a mont he hesitated, but his thoughts drifted back to familiar images:
“Roselle, one of the daughters of the Sacred Fla Family’s head. Her parents were always too strict. In the past she would constantly sneak away to the academy library, just to be in the quiet… That’s how our conversations began.”
mories flickered before him of long, dusty-slling shelves, and of how the lively girl at first simply sat near him without speaking, then later began asking him to retell the difficult, ‘boring’ books she couldn’t handle.
And with those mories ca her shining, awed gaze and her genuine joy when Kael explained sothing new to her. Or her gratitude when he deliberately took up a book she had chosen.
Thinking of how to soften the mont, to ease the uncomfortable feeling in his chest, Kael drew a deep breath and unexpectedly said:
“Roselle… do you trust ?”
The girl sobbed, sniffled, and lifted her tear-streaked face to him. Her red eyes trembled, but hope still flickered there. She nodded quickly, as if afraid of losing even that thin thread tying them together.
Seeing that gesture, Kael softened slightly and added, striving to speak with calm firmness:
“Then just give ti. I promise I’ll beco stronger. I think… if I’m strong enough, no one will dare see a problem in our friendship. Do you agree?”
The words hung in the air, and for the first ti sothing light crossed Roselle’s face. She hurriedly wiped her tears with her sleeve, trying to hide her trembling, and muttered with doubt:
“But you… you can’t absorb mana at all… You’re lying to , aren’t you?”
Kael, unlike his past self, allowed a small smirk, his voice carrying a hard edge of resolve:
“I can promise only this: I’ll give everything I have. If I can’t succeed with strength—then I’ll find influence through my mind. But…” he paused, looking her directly in the eyes, “until that ti, we can’t be seen together.”
Roselle froze. Distrust and pain flickered in her eyes. But after several seconds she slowly nodded, as though accepting his words as a sentence:
“All right… Then I’ll work to beco stronger too! So no one can ever again tell who I may or may not stand beside!”
To his surprise, Kael felt his lips spread into a gentle smile, and warmth flickered in his chest. His body seed to respond in slight dissonance with his mind. It was a very strange sensation.
“Agreed. Take care of yourself.”
The girl sniffled, nodded once more, and, still wiping at her tears, spun sharply around. At first her steps were slow, uncertain, but within monts she was nearly running off toward the academy.
Kael remained standing in the middle of the street, watching her retreating figure, speaking silently to himself:
“How strange… Soul transfer through ti—a subject shrouded in mystery even to the Gods. In all seven hundred years, I never once found even a hint of such a case described… Perhaps the reason is that when ti is rewound, the soul simply forgets everything that lies in the ‘future’… If so, am I the only one who can study these strange laws?”
After standing for a mont and pressing a hand to his chest, Kael added in thought:
“Perhaps not only the soul, but the body too carries mory. My master would have been thrilled to hear of such a discovery… Might even have rewarded …”
But as soon as that thought crossed his mind, Kael twisted in hatred and spat onto the ground, as if picturing there the face of the God of Knowledge and Madness.
“Damn bastard! Made into a chained dog!” he hissed through his teeth. “The chain is gone, but I still feel tethered…”
He drew a deep breath, as if trying to exhale the sticky residue of hatred. Casting one more glance toward the corner where Roselle had vanished, Kael let out a heavy sigh.
“All right…” he noted coldly to himself. “At least that’s one problem less. The mistake of the past is now less likely… and I’ve gained a little more ti.”
His face regained its familiar gloom, his eyes dulled like those of the sullen teenager everyone around him knew. Pulling the mask of indifference over himself once more, Kael strode forward, blending into the stream of children hurrying toward the academy.
“I’ll sit through the lessons…” his thoughts flowed evenly, coldly, as if laying out a cunning plan. “And right after, I’ll head to the Hall of Ancient Research. If they allow to take the entrance exam, I can infiltrate their ranks.”
With every step, images of stone buildings with narrow windows and tall spires rose before his eyes—guardians of forgotten knowledge that Lasthold had nearly ceased to value.
“It wouldn’t hurt to ‘decipher’ a couple of truly useful things for them…” a sly spark flickered in his amber eyes. “In other words, to pass off as discoveries what has been obvious to for centuries already. Their views on magical developnt theory are laughably primitive…”
He walked on, and the noise of the street—rchants, wagons, the shrill voices of children—reached him only as a distant backdrop. In his mind, a plan was already taking shape, a path of how he would build influence and power.
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