The practice hall was in chaos. Sparks and scorch marks littered the floor. The malfunctioning simulation had turned deadly. Students pressed against the walls, whispering nervously.
At the center, Elian lay unconscious, golden eyes closed, faint light pulsing beneath his shirt.
During the second strike, as a mechanical monster lunged at him, Elian instinctively reacted. A surge of silver‑gold light erupted from his chest, forming a shimmering barrier that deflected the attack and healed his wounds.
The energy drained him completely. He fell, collapsing to the floor.
In the darkness of his unconscious mind, fragmented memories appeared—flashes of a past he had never consciously known:
A battlefield of light and fire. Two immense figures fought in the sky.
A woman with flowing golden hair held a small child. Her eyes glowed with a warmth and fierceness that made Elian's chest ache.
Arrows rained down from above. One struck her sharply in the back. She faltered but held the baby tightly.
The voice of a man roared over the chaos: "Get him to safety!"
The woman whispered desperately, a spell swirling around her hands. "Go… survive… be strong!"
A blinding flash, the warmth of her arms, and then—darkness.
The flashes were brief but powerful. Elian could feel the fear, love, and urgency radiating from her. He didn't understand who they were, only that something inside him reacted to protect him.
The flashes ended as quickly as they came, and Elian's body jerked. His golden eyes snapped open. He gasped, chest rising and falling rapidly.
He saw the ruined hall around him, teachers and students staring. But his mind kept replaying the image of the woman struck by the arrow, her desperate hands sending him to safety.
Who… who was she? he whispered to himself. Why did she protect me…?
Lyra, standing a few steps away, blinked in disbelief. "That magic… it wasn't his," she murmured. "It felt… alive."
Teachers exchanged worried looks. "The surge… it wasn't ordinary magic," muttered Halric. "Something reacted instinctively. We've never seen anything like it."
Students whispered among themselves, a mix of awe and fear:
"Even a malfunctioning machine couldn't kill him…"
"His magic… it's impossible…"
"There's something living inside him…"
Elian touched the faint glow under his shirt. The warmth remained, pulsing faintly. He knew he hadn't consciously activated it. He hadn't understood what had happened—but he remembered the flashes clearly: the woman, the arrows, the desperate spell, the love, and sacrifice.
Who were they? Who was she? the question burned in his mind.
He didn't yet know they were his real parents. He only knew that someone powerful had risked everything for him. That memory—brief, fragmented, and haunting—was etched deep inside him.
And even as he sat there, recovering, the child of hope realized one thing: the magic within him wasn't just a tool. It was a connection—a fragment of someone else's power, someone who had once protected him at the cost of her life.
Who were they?
That question would not leave him.