Seo Wa quickly learned that surviving in battle had not been her hardest test—this was.
Polite deception, measured words, the subtle war of glances and titles—this was the battlefield of a court, and it was no less dangerous than sword and shield. Here, enemies wore perfume instead of armor, and every smile was edged with hidden steel.
Still, she adapted.
Each morning, Lady Naelin guided her through the rituals of royalty. She was dressed, styled, draped in layers of flowing silks stitched with the crest of House Nyara—her supposed bloodline. The mirror always startled her. She still hadn't gotten used to the face that looked back at her.
Violet eyes. Pale skin. Not Seo Wa's weathered, sun-bronzed face.
She listened during council meetings. She watched, silent, as the noble houses traded veiled threats beneath honeyed speech. Her unfamiliarity with the world was both weakness and shield—they dismissed her as fragile, mentally scarred from her "curse," unfit to lead.
She let them believe that.
Beneath the mask of Aelyra, Seo Wa observed, plotted, waited.
One morning, she sat in the royal gardens with Lady Naelin and a small group of court ladies, weaving star-lilies into garlands and pretending to enjoy their gossip.
"Lord Naris is pushing for a marriage pact with the eastern duchies again," one girl said. "They think now that Aelyra is back, she'll take the crown and choose a consort."
Seo Wa raised an eyebrow. "Choose a consort?"
Lady Naelin gave her a warning glance, but the girl—Lady Celyne—just giggled.
"Of course, your highness. You are first heir to the throne. The moment the king is confirmed gone, you'll be queen. The suitors will line up like festival doves."
Seo Wa clenched the vine in her hands. Marriage. Political maneuvering. Shackles, all of them.
She stood abruptly. "I feel unwell. I'll take a walk."
She didn't wait for permission.
That evening, she returned to the hidden courtyard. The scent of old sweat and steel was more comforting than jasmine and wine.
Kael was waiting, leaning against the stone wall, moonlight gleaming off his pauldrons.
"You skipped dinner," he noted.
Seo Wa shrugged. "Politics makes me lose my appetite."
He tossed her a wooden sword. "Good. Hunger makes a sharper blade."
They began slow. Her body, though still regaining strength, moved with growing certainty. She learned to predict Kael's movements, adjusted her grip, found balance in the unfamiliar body she now inhabited.
"I remember dying," she said suddenly, between strikes.
Kael's blade paused mid-air.
She continued, parrying his halfhearted attack. "My name wasn't Aelyra. It was Seo Wa. I was a general in another world. I died in battle."
Kael didn't speak for a long time. Then he lowered his sword and said quietly, "I believe you."
Seo Wa blinked. "Just like that?"
"I've seen stranger things than rebirth. If your soul came from a world of war, it explains a lot."
He looked her in the eye. "But be careful who else you tell. There are people here who would kill to keep this world's balance exactly where it is."
She nodded, grateful.
They trained every night thereafter.
Wooden swords became real ones. They fought beneath moonlight and silence, sweat slicking their hands, bruises blooming beneath their clothes. Kael was disciplined, efficient, quiet—but occasionally, he offered subtle encouragement.
"You're too tense in the shoulders."
"Let the blade swing, don't force it."
"Your footwork is better than some knights I've trained."
During the day, Seo Wa continued her lessons.
High Mage Corrien began testing her magical sensitivity. She feigned clumsiness and confusion when asked to focus. She fumbled incantations, intentionally mispronounced incantae. He grew frustrated, but she saw the suspicion behind his gold-ringed eyes.
"You are not as empty as you pretend," he said one afternoon.
"Perhaps the curse left holes in my soul," she replied sweetly.
That night, when she told Kael, he didn't smile.
"He's dangerous," Kael muttered. "He serves the crown, but answers to the College first. And their loyalty is always to themselves."
One night, just after their spar, Kael knelt beside her and drew another rune into the dirt.
"Let's test something."
The rune pulsed dimly, like a heartbeat.
"Touch it. Focus on your breath."
Seo Wa did.
This time, the glow was immediate—golden light surged beneath her hand, wrapping her fingers in warmth. She gasped as the air around her shimmered, and the ground beneath the rune cracked.
Kael stared. "You broke the seal. Gods above."
Seo Wa's chest heaved. "What… was that?"
"Amplification rune," he said slowly. "It takes raw magic and strengthens it. Most people barely light it. You overloaded it."
He grabbed a piece of chalk and drew another rune—a defensive shield glyph.
"Try again. Carefully this time."
She reached out.
The glyph flickered, then solidified into a disc of gold light hovering in the air.
Seo Wa stared, stunned.
"I don't understand," she whispered. "Why do I have magic? I've never—"
"Rebirth isn't clean," Kael said, eyes still fixed on the hovering shield. "Sometimes, the soul carries echoes. Yours… may have bonded with this world's ley threads on entry. That kind of power is dangerous. And rare."
She looked down at her glowing hand.
"So what am I?"
Kael's voice was quiet. "Something the College will want to control. Or destroy."
The next morning, at breakfast, Seo Wa noticed two unfamiliar nobles watching her too closely. Their robes bore the crest of the College of Magi. Corrien didn't speak, but nodded once to them before continuing his meal.
She smiled politely, offered them nothing.
But that night, she met Kael in the courtyard with a different fire in her eyes.
"No more holding back," she said, gripping her blade. "If I'm going to survive this world, I need more than training. I need to become a weapon again."
Kael's expression darkened, but he nodded.
He stepped forward, sword raised, magic sigil pulsing at his feet.
"Then let's begin."
And under the moon, steel met steel—light met light—and the warrior began to rise again.