I sat there for what felt like hours, the ancient book heavy in my lap. The words kept replaying in my mind—Sovereign, First Protector, exogenous influence. The system messages had faded from my vision, but their meaning had burned itself into my very being. *Genetic memory. Aetheric signatures. Aspects of dormancy.*
My hands trembled slightly as I traced the strange leather binding of the text. What did it all mean? If the Dragon's Blessing wasn't just some random power but connected to this "Sovereign," and if I had some genetic connection to it…
"Getting lost in the dustiest section of the library? That's a new low, even for you."
The voice startled me from my spiraling thoughts. Lira stood at the end of the aisle, leaning against the shelves with that familiar half-smirk of hers. But her green eyes, always so sharp and perceptive, held a trace of concern as they scanned my face.
"You look like you just tried to wrestle a bunnyhopper bare-handed and lost," she said, her tone lighter than her expression. "Everything alright?"
I tried to form a casual response, but the words caught in my throat. How could I explain what I'd just learned? How could I tell her that I might be connected to some ancient, world-protecting being from beyond the stars? I couldn't. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
She moved closer, her footsteps silent on the carpet. "Seriously, Adam. I saw what happened this morning in the hallway. With Cain." Her voice dropped slightly. "That was... intense. I wanted to make sure you were holding up okay."
I gestured weakly at the books scattered around me. "Just... tripped. Made a mess of these old texts." It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth either.
Lira knelt, helping me gather the remaining books. Her fingers brushed against the strange-hided volume, and she paused. "This one feels... different. What is it?"
"Just some old history," I said, perhaps too quickly. "Theories about... ancient creatures." I carefully avoided mentioning dragons specifically.
She raised an eyebrow but didn't push further. Instead, she sat beside me on the reading bench, her shoulder just touching mine. The contact was steadying, an anchor in the storm of my thoughts.
"You know," she said quietly, "after what happened on the expedition... with Zara..." She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "People process things differently. Cain's been in the training yard all day, taking his grief out on practice dummies. You're in here... well, making a mess of library shelves."
I managed a weak smile. "I'm not usually this clumsy."
"Everyone's entitled to be clumsy sometimes," she said. "Even the guy who stood his ground against a Frostclaw Ravager."
There it was. The thing we hadn't really talked about since it happened. The horror we'd both witnessed.
"Lira," I began, my voice barely above a whisper. "When Cain said those things... about me hesitating..."
She cut me off gently. "Cain's hurting. He's looking for someone to blame because the alternative—that sometimes terrible things just happen—is too much to face right now." She nudged my shoulder. "You're still you. Still the same partner who watches my back in a fight. Don't let his grief rewrite who you are."
Her words were like a lifeline thrown to a drowning man. Simple. Grounding. She wasn't getting caught up in theories about ancient beings or genetic memories. She was reminding me of who I was right now.
"You're not defined by one moment, Adam," she continued. "Not by what happened in the forest, and not by what happened in the hallway this morning. We all did what we could out there. Sometimes... sometimes it's not enough. That's not failure—that's just how it is."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. The tightness in my chest eased slightly. "Thanks, Lira. I think I needed to hear that."
"Anytime," she said, standing and offering me a hand up. "Now, are you going to help me put these books back properly, or do I have to do all the work myself?"
As we reshelved the texts, my mind felt clearer. The questions were still there, the revelations still overwhelming. But Lira had given me perspective. Whatever connection I might have to some ancient Sovereign, whatever the system messages meant—those were mysteries for another day.
Today, I was just Adam. A student who had survived a terrible expedition, with friends who cared about him, with responsibilities to keep. The rest could wait.
But as I slid the strange-hided book back into its place on the highest shelf, I couldn't help the thought that whispered in the back of my mind: The waiting wouldn't last forever. And when the time came, I would need to be ready