POV: Kael Lanpar
The song of birds perched on my bedroom window began to wake me, accompanied by the scorching heat of the sun, its light striking directly into my eyes.
I rubbed my face wearily, forcing myself to open them. The first thing I saw was the brown hair of a woman I knew all too well. Through my still-blurred vision, I managed to distinguish her eyes, heavy with love, gazing at me with the tenderness only a mother could give.
"Kal… son, what's wrong?" Her calm voice confused me. "Why are you crying?"
I didn't know if it was my senses still half-asleep, but when my body reacted and tried to embrace her, for an instant I truly felt it was her.
That illusion vanished abruptly when I discovered I was, in fact, holding someone else in my arms. I blinked several times until I realized—it was Mabel. What I had felt was nothing more than the echo of a distorted memory.
The particles of dust floating in the sunlight reminded me cruelly that I would never see her again. Just as the wind carries away the dust, time steals away those you love.
"Forgive me, Mother… I think I had a nightmare," I murmured, wiping away my tears as I prepared for my first day of training.
"Why apologize, Kal?" she exclaimed with concern. "We all have things that frighten us. You shouldn't feel ashamed of that."
"I know, Mother…" I whispered, without conviction.
I dressed quickly, not giving much importance to my words. Yet when I glanced at the mirror before me, I understood I hadn't convinced her. Her sorrowful expression reflected in the glass filled me with guilt.
"I'm just a little nervous about training," I added, feigning fear. "I just want everything to go well."
Her smile was enough to confirm that the lie had worked. When she leaned down to kiss my forehead before leaving, I finally released the emptiness I had been holding back.
My heart pounded violently, every stab of sadness and guilt forcing me to clutch my chest as if I could extinguish the pain. I let myself fall onto the bed, arms stretched out, sinking into the mattress as though into a sea ready to drown me in my thoughts.
In my mind, the chains of reality repeated the same words again and again:
They are not to blame for trying to be good parents. I am the wretch who stole the life of their true son.
To the cursed memories that were already an unbearable burden, a new doubt added itself, hammering relentlessly.
I had thought that by being born into this world, I would finally live in peace, far from the eyes of death. But I discovered that even before my birth, my hands were already stained with blood. Perhaps indirectly… but it was still my fault.
The pain remained. The memories did not fade, and the scars of my traumas clung to this new body like marks that could never be erased.
I closed my eyes, covering them with one arm, wishing to forget, to focus on this life. But it was useless: I remained trapped in that infernal fire I had caused myself.
(Minutes later)
After what felt like hours lost in the emptiness of my emotions, I opened my eyes again.
I found myself sitting on a log, listening to explosions and feeling the scorching heat of conjured flames. My sister was training in a friendly duel against my father while I watched in silence.
I sighed and turned my gaze toward the sky, where three white birds soared with the serenity of those who live freely alongside their own.
How much I wished to join them, to stop tearing myself apart with this pain that consumed me.
"You've been so thoughtful… is something wrong, dear?" my mother asked. "Are you still nervous?"
"A little…" I answered without thinking about my words. "I don't know if this time I'll be able to stop it. I don't want to lose them again, even if they're only reflections."
The confusion on her face made me react immediately. I had said too much. Quickly, I began to weave a lie to divert the conversation.
"It's just… I don't know if I'll be enough to protect you," I stammered, feeling control slip away. "I don't want to lose you—and worse, to only see you reflected in memories."
Once again—perhaps by fate or mere luck—I managed to slip away from the problem. My mother let out a long sigh as her fists tightened; in her expression I could recognize a mixture of anger and restrained pain.
"You don't have to worry about that, Kael," she spoke with a trembling voice. "You will never lose us. You will never suffer something like that, I promise you."
When she finished, she embraced me tightly, letting her tears soak into my shirt as her grip grew stronger with the weight of pain—and perhaps fear.
Boom…!
The explosion caused by my father's strike against a towering wall of earth became the catalyst my mother needed to compose herself again.
Among the rubble and the dissipating smoke, a figure revealed itself under the sunlight, pressing the tip of a sword against my sister's neck.
"You dropped your guard," he said calmly. "You get distracted too easily by an explosion. You didn't even create a defense afterward."
Mai didn't reply. She only looked away, shame clear in her expression—something my father noticed immediately.
"You're very young, Mai. Honestly, you're strong for your age," he added as he ruffled her hair. "But that strength clouds your vision. Focus, and you will prevail."
In seconds, his attention shifted toward me. With his arm raised, he aimed his sword of wind at me, his gaze daring me to charge at him.
Like a general who had commanded countless armies amidst chaos and panic, my legs moved on their own, carrying me forward with firm steps and the kind of authority only someone of great power could convey.
Each step flooded the air with a suffocating density of energy that, for a brief moment, transformed the entire atmosphere. The wind began to swirl around me, protective and threatening all at once.
"How curious… I think my suspicions were right," he whispered with a hint of mischief.
His words threw me into confusion, leaving me frozen as I tried to grasp what suspicion he held about me.
"Kal, I need you to sit down," he ordered, driving his sword into the ground. "Mai, I want you here too."
My sister and I sat on the cool grass covering the castle courtyard while my father, with strange movements of his hands, began repairing the devastation left behind by training.
I was completely astonished as I watched the earth close the craters, slowly making them vanish. Plants sprouted once more, blossoming and returning the place to its former glory.
"Well… then you really have been speaking with Yako," he said with a wide smile. "That owl… it was to be expected that you'd meet him sooner or later."
His words snapped me out of my mental daze, and curiosity surged through me. It was obvious that, at some point, I would visit the royal library and encounter him, but what my father implied was that it shouldn't have happened this soon.
"Are you upset because I went to the library?" I asked, searching for answers. "Yako isn't to blame. I asked him to help me."
"Hahaha… Relax, son, I'm not angry," he replied, sitting down beside us. "I just find it strange that the Lanpar guardian spirit reacted so quickly to your presence."
"Spirit…?"
Until that moment, the only spirits I had ever heard of in my past life were the souls of the dead lingering in the world. A legend, perhaps a myth. But if they truly existed in this world… did that mean Yako was a ghost?
I don't believe in ghosts. And yet, for some reason, my mind and my heart compelled me to think that my parents and my sister were with me—even if only as memories.
"Then why am I even here?" Mai exclaimed with annoyance. "We're not doing anything."
"Of course we are," my father answered. "We're spending time together as a family."
Mai huffed, throwing herself back onto the grass in boredom. She didn't want to argue further with Xavier.
"Well… let's use this moment to confirm something," my father said, gesturing for me. "Come to my side, Kal."
I didn't argue. I simply obeyed, sitting next to him, expectant of what he had in mind.
"Tell me, what do you see?" he asked, pointing at my sister.
The lack of explanation—combined with the mystery of what he wanted me to see—confused me. All I could do was watch Mayrei lying on the grass, staring at the clouds as she lost herself in thought.
"I see my sister," I replied, still puzzled. "What's so strange about her?"
"There's nothing strange about her," he answered. "But you still haven't told me—what do you see?" The cursed question again.
Frustration began to rise within me. I didn't know what to do, and he gave me no answer… until he spoke.
"The eyes of a living being are not limited to perceiving the physical and the material," he said calmly. "Through what we call sight, there is something we often prefer to ignore."
He paused briefly before continuing:
"Only when we learn to understand ourselves and comprehend the world around us do we begin to see the true form of things. We call that the aura."
By sheer chance, a faint gray glow appeared around Mayrei before my eyes, spreading across her entire body. It moved calmly and peacefully, as if reacting to… feelings.
A cold bucket of water seemed to pour over me as Yako's words during our training echoed in my mind.
The rule of body unison… I think that's what he called it.
At the time, those phrases were nothing more than an incomprehensible riddle. But now, they made sense:
While one harmony mirrors every movement, the other pulls the threads of actions as they are born—at once a peaceful breeze and a furious spark of life.
Every being that feels carries it. Every being that lives breathes it.
What I was seeing was Mayrei's mana aura. I was looking beyond the physical.
"Now you understand," Xavier said with pride. "I see Yako taught you well."
Before I could say more, the calm shattered. From the castle roof, a masked soldier descended, wrapped in controlled lightning, scorching the grass around him.
I watched my father release a stifled sigh before his expression hardened as he turned to face the intruder.
"Your Majesty, the war council requests your presence," the masked figure said, kneeling. "Lord Marquians awaits your opinion on the Summit of the Realms."
"Tell all the clan leaders to gather in the council hall," my father replied, his voice heavy with the weight of duty. "Many important things will be decided today."
The soldier vanished in veins of electricity, and my father, weary and sad, turned back to us.
"I don't think I'll be returning home today," he murmured, scratching his head. "Forgive me, children. This is important. I promise we'll spend time together afterward."
My mother and Mayrei reacted in different ways, each revealing the wound his absence always left—both as a father and as a husband.
"It's always the same," Mayrei whispered bitterly. "At this point, I wouldn't even be surprised if we didn't see you for a long time."
With those words, she walked away. A spear of ice formed in her hand, which she hurled in fury, piercing through several trees before embedding itself in a rock.
In an instant, everything descended into chaos.
I shook my head sadly and ran after my sister. I was afraid something might happen to her, because I had sensed another aura in that place… and it wasn't my parents'.
That glow made me tremble. It was completely dark and, though it seemed calm, it radiated such profound hatred it left me breathless.
I tried to convince myself it was just an illusion caused by using this ability for the first time. But no—the auras don't move on their own.
A sharp memory pierced me: the trauma of my past life. The one time I left my sister alone was also the last time I ever saw her breathe.
Lost in my thoughts, I walked aimlessly until I found myself outside the castle. It was the first time I saw the world beyond with my own eyes. Perhaps I had been there before, but back then I was still unable to walk.
The bustle of commerce revived after the attack, the shouts of children playing in the streets… it all left me paralyzed.
I couldn't move. I could barely swallow.
It was the first time I had ever seen a crowd gathered in peace.
I began walking through the crowd with my head lowered, trying to keep anyone from recognizing me. I had never imagined that my father's tales were real. The Last Breath—that childhood story—now made sense.
An incredible civilization. Harmonious, peaceful people living together like family. The very same description I still carried in memory, spoken once from my father's lips.
I could perceive faint glimmers of each person's aura. Some agitated, others calm, but all radiating different colors: hatred, love, sorrow, and hope.
Distracted by the crowd, I failed to notice someone stepping into my path. Suddenly, cold metal struck my head, and I fell to the rough ground, pain flaring as it welcomed me.
"What the hell…? What hit me?" a guard growled, glancing in my direction. "It's just a kid. Be more careful, for—"
He stopped at once, recognizing me immediately. It wouldn't have been strange—if not for the violent shift in his aura, boiling with hatred so intense it needed no words.
"Well, if it isn't the little prince," he sneered with malice. "Lost your way, have you?"
Instinctively, heat gathered at my fingertips. A sphere of blazing fire formed in my palm, its scorching flame searing my skin without burning it.
I raised my arm toward his face and hurled the fireball. It caught him off guard. Without hesitation, I scrambled to my feet and bolted into the crowd, though the spell fizzled before reaching him.
I still wasn't strong enough to harm anyone; my magic wasn't developed. But at the very least, it was enough to defend myself.
I ran, bumping into people, the metallic steps of the soldier clanging close behind me. I pushed forward until I stumbled into a dead-end alley, a massive wall blocking my escape.
"You're a damn nuisance, boy," he spat, vanishing in a blur of speed.
The next thing I felt was his kick slamming into my stomach. The air burst from my lungs as I collapsed, clutching my abdomen while blood spilled from my mouth, pain ripping through every part of me.
"For running into the crowd…" I cursed bitterly. "I brought this on myself. Damn it, it hurts so much…"
"It's time to judge your damned family of traitorous blood," he said, raising his fist to strike me again.
I watched as his arm swung down toward my face—only for his hand to be severed midair, flying off in a torrent of blood.
The soldier tried to scream, but no sound came. Another hand engulfed him entirely. It belonged to a man with long black hair, who slit his throat in a single motion with a blade of wind.
My eyelids grew heavy, fighting to close. I barely saw the guard's body collapse beside me, staining the ground crimson.
The warm liquid splashed across my face, and at last my eyes shut completely, as a muted voice whispered—one I thought belonged to my savior.
"Lord Marquians… what shall we do with the boy?"
That name… who was he?