I can't let him know the truth.
That he is my enemy… and I am his.
At least, that's what it looks like on paper. Phasers and Albatross-born don't exactly hold hands and sing by the fire. And yet—here I am. Sharing a body. Healing under his care.
But what keeps circling my thoughts like a vulture is this:
Why were my comrades using arrows?
We don't fight with bows. We're trained with shock rifles, caster-grade weapons, drone swarms, and deployable flame nets. Arrows are… archaic. Crude. Unmistakably from this world. So why did those projectiles come from my side?
Is there in-fighting among us? Did one of our outposts turn on the others?
No, that's not likely. Not with how desperately Earth's forces have been clinging to every inch of territory. Albatross sees all of us from Earth as a plague. No way they'd throw away unity in the middle of a war.
Unless…
Unless the rumors were true. The ancient feuds—elves vs dwarves. Racial tension buried under centuries of diplomacy. I've read about it in secondhand texts, old war journals, pieces smuggled back from early raids. But rumor isn't evidence. I can't jump to conclusions.
I took a deep breath. In… and out.
What matters is survival. And more than that—getting home.
I didn't come here by choice.
I didn't ask to die and wake up wearing someone else's body in a world of curses and broken sky.
I want to go back. Back to Earth. Back to the rig, to Brock, Hero and my family—if they're even still alive. Back to where I knew who I was and what side I was on.
But this body… this ghost… this world—it's not going to make that easy.
"So, from what world do you come from? Spells like 'soul displacer and soul transfer' bring souls from other realms most often. Kaelen asked.
"Well, I am from the world of uhh… well… I don't remember too well… sorry"
I blinked at him, hunting for something neutral to say. The name of my world felt slippery; if I told him, he would surely turn on me.
"Uhh…" I said, forcing a laugh that felt foreign in his mouth. "Honestly… I don't really remember. Sorry, my memory's a bit fuzzy."
Kaelen's glow dimmed a fraction, curiosity written in the way he tilted his head. "That's fine," he said, floating closer, spectacles catching the light. "We can try little anchors—smells, sounds, objects. Sometimes they help memories resurface."
I smiled, nodding like a good student. "Yeah… sure. That sounds… smart. I'm lucky you're helping me with this, honestly." I gave him a casual shrug, letting him think I trusted him.
"Maybe start small," he suggested. "Close your eyes. Something simple from your world—food, a sound, a doorway. Anything that might pull your soul thread back."
I closed my eyes, letting him think he was guiding me. My hands fumbled over imaginary textures. "Hmm… doors… hallways… bright lights? Yeah, metal and lights everywhere. Crowded places. Nothing like this forest, that's for sure." I kept it vague. Safe.
Kaelen nodded, as if cataloging a new specimen. "Metal and lights… so, more industrial. That makes sense. You must have crossed a heavy veil to end up here."
I laughed softly. "Veil? Yeah… I guess. Sounds like a story for another time, right?" I kept my tone light, friendly even, like we were bonding over an inside joke. I didn't tell him about the rig, the radio, Brock, Hero, or the dozens of things that would make him look at me differently.
"Were there… uniforms? Names? Anything to act as an anchor?" he asked, leaning in a little.
"Uh… I dunno. Maybe… something like that?" I shrugged, brushing my hair back. "I wasn't paying attention. I was just… following orders, I guess. You know how it is." I tried to sound casual, almost forgetful. Naïve. Friendly.
Kaelen floated silently, studying me, but I kept my act tight. A small, brittle smile. "I guess I'll just have to rely on you to help me out here, huh?" I added, letting my voice carry a hint of trust I didn't feel.
He smiled, probably relieved. "Exactly. We'll take it slow. If something flashes in your mind, hold it. Don't speak until you're sure."
"Yeah," I said, nodding vigorously. "Totally. That's a good idea. Thanks for… you know, helping me with this. I really appreciate it." I gave him a grin, even patted the air near his ghostly shoulder like we were friends.
Inside, my mind was quiet, calculating. Every memory I let him touch would be carefully chosen, meaningless enough not to betray Brock, Hero, or the rig. Every fragment I shared would be a lie or a harmless misdirection. I had to keep him believing I was a clueless, grateful friend—and for now, that act would be enough to survive.
I rubbed at my temples, letting Kaelen guide me through the forest as if I was seeing it all for the first time. "So… these veins you mentioned," I said casually, letting my tone sound curious rather than knowledgeable. "Magic veins? That's… um… rare, right?"
Kaelen's glow pulsed a little brighter. "Extremely rare. Veinborn elves are born with an innate connection to the weave. Their magic flows through their veins, not just their minds. Most can barely hold a spark at first. You—" He floated closer, pointing at the faint silver roots that ran beneath my skin. "—you're… different. Stronger than most."
I tilted my head, wide-eyed and impressed. "Whoa… okay. That's… that's crazy. So, like, I could actually cast spells? Really? I mean, wow…" I let my voice linger in awe, hiding the way my military mind already cataloged tactical applications, weaponry, and battlefield potential. I forced a laugh. "I don't even know where to start."
Kaelen grinned, clearly pleased with my reaction. "We'll start small. Nothing dangerous yet. Focus on sensing the flow in your veins—feel it. Let it guide your hands, your movements. Once you can control that, then you'll be able to manipulate the weave itself."
"Sense the flow…" I echoed, nodding slowly, letting him see me struggle with concentration. "Okay… yeah… I think I can do that. Just… like, meditation, right?" I glanced around the forest, pretending to be overwhelmed by the beauty of the canopy, the light on the leaves, and the distant call of iridescent birds.
Kaelen floated next to me, watching me intently. "Exactly. Meditation, focus, awareness. It's all about tuning yourself to the thread that runs through everything. If you're patient, you'll feel it. Little sparks at first. Then more."
I nodded again, squinting at my hands like I could see the magic pulsing beneath my skin. "Little sparks… got it." I tried to sound both naïve and eager, hiding the part of me that already knew how much damage a single well-placed spell could do in a fight.
The ghost tilted his head, curious. "So… you don't remember anything about your world, then?"
I shrugged, letting my tone be casual, even a little sheepish. "Not really… just bits and pieces. Metal, machines… loud noises. Nothing, uh… exciting. I mean, it's all kind of a blur. Guess I was never good with, like… history or geography." I forced a small laugh, letting him think I was just a stranger here, curious and harmless.
Kaelen nodded, seeming satisfied. "Well, that's fine. We'll focus on this world for now. The forest, the Exiled Wastes, Dragon Wing—they're complicated enough without dragging memories from another realm into it."
I smiled, letting my guard fall just enough for him to think I trusted him. "Yeah… that's probably for the best. I mean, this place is… kind of amazing in its own way. Weird, but amazing."
Inside, my thoughts were far from awe. I cataloged every tree, every shadow, every rustling leaf, thinking about ambushes, traps, and tactical advantage. I counted the distance between the trunks, the way the wind moved, the angles sunlight hit the ground. Kaelen didn't need to know any of that. He could think I was just another lost soul, excited to learn about magic.
For now, that act—friendly, clueless, eager—was my shield. And if I played it right, I could use Kaelen's power, his knowledge, and this body without him ever realizing that I wasn't the naïve friend he thought I was.