Aetheris Vale, her current home, was one of the five great kingdoms of Elarion. Known for its mystical forests and fertile lands, it was a kingdom that blended natural beauty with hidden danger. Forests whispered secrets of ancient spirits, rivers concealed creatures of old bloodlines, and the skies often carried omens of both fortune and destruction.
It was also a land of privilege for those born with power, and peril for those born without. Noble families boasted ancient bloodlines, their lineage traced to spirit beasts and magical beasts that lived only in legends. Those who were weak were often cast aside, exploited, or crushed under the weight of those stronger than them. Survival demanded cunning, intelligence, and the ability to strike when the opportunity arose.
And Erysimum, the redness in her eyes glimmered faintly in the reflection, a reminder of the life she had inherited and the fire that now burned within her.
Erysimum turned her gaze to the window. Outside, the mystical forests of Elandor swayed in the wind, their leaves catching the sun's rays like scattered jewels. Spirit beasts roamed in the hidden valleys beyond the estate, unseen by common eyes, while whispers of ancient bloodlines flowed through the kingdom, carrying tales of power, betrayal, and ambition.
This world... it is cruel, she thought. But I am ready.
She pressed her palm to the star and felt warmth surge through her arm. This is just the beginning, she thought, determination flaring. I will not remain weak. I will rise. And one day, the world that scorned me will kneel before my strength.
Her fingers instinctively went to the pendant around her neck, still pulsing with a soft warmth. The memory of the night she had discovered the inbuilt space surged back: the fields of herbs, the stream that healed all wounds, the story-building where the god's book had revealed the inheritance ring.
And with this second chance, she would not waste a single moment.
A gentle knock sounded at the door.
"Erysimum, it is time to eat," came her grandfather's voice calm, low, yet carrying the authority of a man who had once been feared.
She drew a deep breath, smoothing her hair and rising. The memory of the girl whose body she now inhabited flooded her mind: a household that had once prospered, respected and feared, now reduced to a shadow of its former glory. Her uncle's cultivation had been severed, her grandfather forbidden from ever cultivating again under the grip of a deadly poison, and her parents... gone, presumed dead. Only she remained to carry the thread of this once-proud lineage.
Steeling herself, she followed the sound down the grand staircase. The hall was quiet, servants moving silently, yet she did not trust their eyes. She had learned caution quickly. Her grandfather and uncle were her only family; their loyalty unshakeable. Everyone else was a variable, an uncertain element she could not afford to misjudge.
Her grandfather waited in the dining hall, seated at the head of the long table, robes simple yet stately. His silver hair framed a lined but dignified face, and his eyes, though softer now than they had been in their prime, still carried the sharpness of a man who had once commanded respect and fear. Beside him, her uncle Kaelen stood, tall and imposing, even in repose. Though his cultivation had been severed, the aura of someone who had once been powerful clung to him, restrained but not extinguished.
When Erysimum entered, both men froze for the briefest moment, as though they were taking measure of her.
"You... are moving better than yesterday," Kaelen said quietly, suspicion thinly veiled beneath concern.
Erysimum inclined her head gracefully. "The medicine you gave me, Grandfather... it worked well. I feel much stronger now."
Aldric, her grandfather, gave her a long, appraising look. His eyes softened, but a faint crease of concern lingered. He knew the drugs could not have worked so effectively in such a short time. Yet he trusted her. He did not press further. "Very well," he said, voice calm. "Eat, then. You must regain your strength fully."
She inclined her head again and took her seat at the table, careful to appear compliant and ordinary. Inside, however, her mind raced. This household is fragile. Empty. But it still breathes. I will ensure it survives and thrives again. Even if it kills me.
The room was quiet except for the faint clatter of utensils. Erysimum ate carefully, not too quickly, not too slowly. Her grandfather occasionally glanced at her, but he did not speak; his silence was a gift, a sign of trust. Kaelen's eyes, however, flicked toward her every now and then, sharp and calculating. He did not speak either, but the tension in the air told her he was already thinking through possibilities.
From the corner of her mind, Erysimum recalled fragments of memory the family's former glory, the way they had been respected, even feared, across Elandor reach. The rivers of wealth, the loyal retainers, the ancient bloodlines tied to spirit beasts all gone, all shattered. Now, only she could thread the needle between survival and revival.
Her heart beat faster. She had inherited more than just a body; she had inherited responsibility, legacy, and the knowledge from the god's space. Yet she knew it would not be enough to simply exist. Strength must be earned, cultivated day by day.
When breakfast concluded, her grandfather rose, his silver hair catching the sun as he straightened. "Erysimum, let's head to the study room, there are some matters we need to discuss regarding yesterday," he said quietly. His voice was gentle but firm.
She nodded, as she followed him.
The study was dimly lit, the scent of old ink and parchment heavy in the air. Scrolls and books lay scattered across the shelves, relics of a glorious past that now felt like a distant memory.
Erysimum sat quietly before her grandfather's desk, her small hands folded neatly on her lap. The faint glow of the oil lamp flickered across her pale face, casting delicate shadows that only deepened the worry in the eyes of the two men watching her.
Her grandfather, his silver hair tied neatly behind him, leaned forward. His voice was calm, but the tremor beneath it betrayed his unease. "Erysimum, why did you leave the estate without a word? And how... did you come to be so gravely injured?"
Erysimum lowered her gaze, her lashes hiding the flash of coldness in her eyes. She pressed her lips into a faint smile, her tone soft, almost fragile. "I... only wanted to take a stroll. The estate felt too heavy, too suffocating. I must have wandered too far, and on my way back I slipped and fell down a mountain slope. That's all."
After inheriting all the memories of this body, erysimum was clearer than anyone else that it definitely wasn't an accident
The reason she left Duskbane palace was simply because the third Prince had arranged to meet up with her.
As the previous erysimum was infatuated with the third prince that when her beloved third Prince asked to meet up with her she had agreed in a heartbeat. She yearned to by her beloved prince.
However, when she arrived at the appointed place, in place of her handsome prince stood a mysterious masked man in black instead.
That very man was the one who wounded her and pushed her down into the abyss. If it weren't for those trees growing by the cliff breaking her fall, she wouldn't have had this second chance in life.
It can be said that today's Elandor Palace is just a paper tiger, the main powerhouse Duskbane palace
was already over seventy years old.
After all he's been through so much especially since after that great war which caused him to lose his eldest son and crippled his younger son, all the hardships had contributed to alderic health deteriorating coupled with occasional bouts of illnesses and his age, he feared didn't have much time left.
As of late, the Royal family has been acting more blatantly towards the duskbane palace.
Erysimum encounter could very well be the designs the Royal family had towards the Duskbane palace.
[It's obvious that the third prince no longer holds the Lin Palace in regards and even dared to act so brazenly.]
The black snake muttered. At first it had thought that its mistress was reborn into a good home, but did not expect her to be embroiled in such a situation where she still had to fight for her own survival.
Erysimum raised her eyebrow slightly.
The small black snake immediately curled into her hand, burying its head between her robe.
Her uncle exhaled, his hands falling to his sides. "Reckless girl," he muttered, though the edge in his voice was dulled by relief.
Her grandfather, however, did not speak immediately. His sharp eyes studied her in silence, as though weighing her words. He had lived long enough to recognize when truths were hidden beneath lies, but when he finally sighed, it was a sound of weariness, not anger. "Erysimum ... you've already suffered so much. To be born without a contractile spirit, to be branded a waste in this world of cultivation..." His voice caught, trembling with pain. "And now even your body must endure this torment. If only your parents were here—"
"Grandfather," Erysimum interrupted gently, lifting her gaze. Her dark eyes shimmered with quiet determination. She reached out, her small hand covering his weathered one. "Please don't blame yourself. As long as I have you and Uncle, I can endure anything."
His lips pressed together, his hand tightening over hers. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with emotions neither dared to voice.
But behind Erysimum's soft smile, fire roared. She quickly pondered on the situation. Whether that masked man in black was the third Prince himself or not did not matter. This definitely was related to him one way or another.
Her chest tightened. This world is harsh. Survival is not a given. Only strength grants freedom.
Yet beneath the fear was a spark the same zeal that had carried her through death and transmigration. I will rise. I will grow stronger. I will restore my family, and I will ensure the Duskbane legacy is remembered once more.