Death didn't hurt the way Kaelin thought it would.
It came quietly—like the slipping of a dream, like mist parting in the morning sun. One moment, he was clutching his chest in the middle of a dark apartment, surrounded by silence and a half-finished bowl of instant noodles. The next, there was light.
Warm. Soft. Strange.
He blinked.
Above him, a vast sky stretched out, impossibly blue, unscarred by smoke or wires. Clouds drifted lazily past, and the wind carried a scent he didn't recognize—wildflowers, maybe. Grass. Magic.
"...Is this heaven?" he muttered, voice raspy.
"No," a voice answered. "It's worse."
He sat up with a jolt.
A tiny girl stood at the edge of a rolling hill, her white hair glowing like moonlight. She held a crooked staff and a book far too large for her hands. Her face was unreadable.
"You're in Aurealis," she said, matter-of-factly. "The world between stars. And you've been chosen."
"Chosen?" he echoed. "For what? Some fantasy world? Are you a god or…?"
She shook her head. "Messenger. That's all. I don't make the rules, I just escort the pieces to the board."
Kaelin furrowed his brow. "Look, no offense, but I don't think I signed up to be a game piece. I died eating instant noodles in my box apartment. Not exactly hero material."
"You'd be surprised who gets chosen." Her voice was quiet. "Some burn down kingdoms. Others just love too deeply."
She looked at him for a moment longer—like she saw everything he was, and everything he wasn't yet.
"I hope you survive," she said softly.
Before Kaelin could ask what she meant, the world broke like glass.
❖
When he opened his eyes again, he was smaller. Younger.
And it was snowing.
He lay wrapped in coarse wool, tucked near the embers of a dying fire. The cottage walls groaned under the weight of a blizzard, wind screaming through the cracks. Everything smelled like ash, pine, and stew gone cold.
He tried to speak. "Where…?"
"He's awake!" a girl's voice called.
A woman rushed in—middle-aged, brown-haired, wearing a patched apron and a face carved with care. She knelt beside him, brushing damp curls from his forehead.
"Easy now," she whispered. "You've been out for three days."
"Three... days?" His voice was thin, like paper. "Who... who are you?"
"The name's Maren," she said, smiling gently. "You were found near the eastern forest. No papers. No pulse. And no name. But the gods must've spared you for something."
He blinked. "I... don't remember anything."
"That's alright." She touched his hand. "You don't need to. You're safe now, child. Safe, and home."
The word home stuck in his throat like a stone. He didn't answer—just stared at the fire, where something deep inside him stirred.
Estenwood was quiet. Too quiet.
A small village tucked into the edge of frostbitten hills, where life moved slowly and people stayed the same. Kaelin grew fast—too fast, some whispered—but his eyes always felt older than his face.
He chopped wood. He herded goats. He shared bread with children who smiled too easily.
But at night… he dreamt of stars.
And sometimes, of fire.
"Kael," his adoptive sister called one evening, peeking over the fence. "You're staring at nothing again."
"I'm not," he said. "I'm just... listening."
"To what? The snow?"
"No. To something under it."
She giggled. "You're weird."
"Yeah," he replied softly. "I know."
The fire came on his twelfth birthday.
He'd wandered too far chasing a goat—again. The sky was pale gray, the air sharp with cold. As he crested a hill, the ground near his feet cracked—and something growled.
It rose from the snow like a nightmare. All bark, bone, and shadow—twisted limbs and hollow eyes.
Kaelin froze.
But the air around him didn't. It shifted—like a ripple in still water.
He opened his mouth without thinking.
"Vyr'ah nox talen…"
The words poured out—alien and old. His fingers moved in instinctive patterns, as if guided by muscle memory that was never his.
And then—fire.
Blue flames surged around him in a perfect arc, dancing like sentient wind. The creature hissed once—and then disintegrated into soot.
Kaelin fell to his knees, panting. His hands glowed faintly. His breath steamed like smoke.
"I… what did I just do?"
But the forest offered no answer. Only silence. Watching.
Whispers spread quickly.
"He cast it without a wand—"
"Not even a sigil—"
"His blood runs wrong. Magic like that shouldn't exist anymore."
Even the children began to look at him differently.
He didn't speak of it again. Not to Maren. Not to anyone. But they noticed.
Until the letter arrived.
To Kaelin Darkhaven,By decree of the Royal Council, you are invited to Wysteria Magic Academy. You possess dormant arcane potential thought lost to time.A royal carriage will arrive in three days. Please be prepared.
Kaelin read the parchment three times. The seal was a silver flame. The ink shimmered faintly.
"…Wysteria?" he whispered.
"What does it say?" Maren asked, peering over his shoulder.
Kaelin swallowed. "They want me."
Maren's hand squeezed his shoulder gently. "Then you go. Show them what kind of man my Kael has become."
Three days later, the village gathered to watch him leave.
Kaelin adjusted the strap of his bag. He looked back at the small house, at the smoke curling from its chimney, at the snow where he first woke all those years ago.
"Are you scared?" his sister whispered.
He nodded. "Yeah. But it's the good kind."
The carriage was sleek and silent. Blackwood, silver trim. The horses had strange, almost intelligent eyes.
And standing beside the door—arms folded, expression unimpressed—was a girl.
She had silver hair pulled into a sharp braid and wore a blue cloak trimmed in frostleaf fur.
"Elwynn Lirien," she announced crisply. "Escort mage for rural candidate Kaelin Darkhaven."
Kaelin blinked. "You practice that introduction?"
She stared at him.
"I was expecting someone taller," she muttered.
"I was expecting someone nicer," he shot back.
A pause.
Then—shockingly—she smirked.
"Maybe this won't be entirely boring."
The carriage pulled away as the village faded into snow. Kaelin leaned against the window, watching the world change.
"So," he said casually. "Escort mage, huh? That mean you'll be showing me around?"
"I'll make sure you don't get eaten before your first class," she replied.
"Oh good. So nurturing."
Elwynn snorted. "You really are different."
Kaelin tilted his head. "Different how?"
"You didn't flinch when you saw me. Most first-timers either bow, blush, or faint."
He raised an eyebrow. "Do I look like I faint over pretty girls?"
"You think I'm pretty?" she asked without missing a beat.
Kaelin grinned. "That's the only part of this day that's not confusing."
She didn't answer—but this time, she didn't look away either.
The towers of Wysteria rose over the horizon like carved moonlight—spires of silver and stone etched with runes, glimmering with ancient power.
Kaelin's chest tightened. Fear, excitement, wonder—all tangled together.
He had died once.
But this… this was the beginning of something far more dangerous.