The comfortable silence of the dormitory eventually pulled me under into a deep sleep. But my mind did not find rest. It wandered into a vast, dark space, a void between thoughts. Then, a pinprick of light appeared, swelling rapidly until it consumed the darkness, forming images around me.
The void reshaped itself into a kingdom of unimaginable ruin. Smoldering husks of grand architecture, once proud and gleaming, were now skeletal fingers clawing at a smoke-choked sky. The acrid scent of ozone and char filled my nonexistent lungs. And everywhere, the fallen. A silent, tragic testament to a cataclysm.
In stark contrast to the devastation stood a man. His hair was the color of fresh blood, a vibrant crimson that seemed to defy the gloom. In his arms, he cradled a woman with hair as bright and pale as moonlight, her form still and lifeless. And I… I was him. I felt the seismic shift of his emotions—a cataclysm of anger that scorched, a sorrow that hollowed, and a thirst for revenge that burned colder than the deepest ice.
A thick, crimson aura, darker than clotting blood, enveloped him. It pulsed like a living heart, a tangible manifestation of his raging grief. It built and built until it could no longer be contained. With a silent, psychic scream, it burst from his body in a devastating wave.
The wave did not destroy. It unmade. It swept outwards in a perfect circle,and where it touched, the raging fires simply vanished, snuffed out of existence. The groaning, crumbling buildings still standing nearby shuddered and collapsed into piles of inert dust, as if all energy and will had been leeched from them. In the span of a heartbeat, a perfect, dead calm was carved into the heart of the apocalypse.
Cradling his beloved, he walked toward a small hill overlooking the dead city. His movements were slow, deliberate, fueled by a resolve that had replaced all other feeling. He laid her down gently and began to dig with his bare hands. The earth gave way not to force, but to his will. After a timeless period, he placed her within the earth and covered her, creating a solitary, sacred grave amidst the desolation.
He stood over it, and his feet left the ground. From his back, two magnificent wings erupted—not of feather or membrane, but of shimmering, overlapping scales in a deep, majestic crimson. They caught the dim light, gleaming like polished ruby, each scale a testament to a power both terrible and awe-inspiring. With a beat that was felt rather than heard, he shot into the sky, a streak of scarlet grief flying faster, higher, past the planet's atmosphere and into the deep, star-studded blackness, leaving the grave and the dead world behind.
The images began to dissolve, pulling me back through the light and into the dark space. For what felt like an eternity, I drifted in the silence of that memory.
I woke with a gasp, my body jolting upright. Reality snapped back into place, but it felt fragile, like glass over a fissure. I was drenched in a cold sweat, my heart hammering against my ribs. I looked around wildly, clutching the rough wool of my blanket, confirming the familiar sights: the dark room, the soft sounds of sleep.
A snort drew my eye. Wren was tangled in his sheets on the upper bunk, one arm dangling precariously over the edge, moments from tumbling to the floor. Raven's breathing was a steady, slow rhythm. Everyone was asleep. It was just a dream.
I tried to recall the man's face, to find a connection, but my heart clenched with a phantom pain so acute it stole my breath. A silent sob shook my shoulders. I didn't understand why I was crying, but I couldn't stop the tears that tracked hot lines down my cold cheeks.
A faint rustle of fabric came from the corner. Kael's cot was empty. I found him already sitting at the small desk, sharpening a dagger by the faint moonlight, his movements ceasing as he watched me.
"You want to talk?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that didn't carry.
I quickly wiped my face on my sleeve. "I'm fine."
He was silent for a moment, the only sound the soft shush of cloth on steel as he resumed his work. "Thinking too much in the dark breeds shadows," he said, not looking at me. "If a problem has a solution, share it. Maybe I have one. If it doesn't, sharing it makes it lighter to carry alone."
The simple, pragmatic offer, so typical of him, cut through the lingering horror. A small, genuine smile touched my lips. "Thanks, Kael."
At that moment, the familiar golden script materialized in my vision.
[Memory Fragment Obtained: The Sovereign's Grief]
[+50 EXP] [+5 MANA]
[+50 Aether Shards]
[User Status: Level 3]
[EXP: 130/200]
[STR: 21+5]
[SPD: 21]
[DEF: 20]
[MANA: 60/60]
[HP: 65/65]
The notification was a cold, numerical counterpoint to the emotional storm. The reward felt like a pitiful payment for the pain I had just inherited.
Before I could process it further, the dawn bell rang, its clear tone shattering the last of the night's stillness. The day had begun. As the others stirred, groaning at the early hour, we all began the familiar routine of preparing for class, the haunting memory of a crimson-haired man and his wings of grief buried, for now, beneath the mundane need to get ready.