The morning after the surge, the Renard estate felt different.
The air itself seemed to hum.
Servants whispered behind closed doors, guards glanced nervously at the courtyard where the earth was still scorched in a perfect circle. The grass there would not grow again.
Cael sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the faint blue light that pulsed beneath his palm. Every heartbeat sent a shimmer through the mark, like ripples on water.
He felt… heavy.
As if something inside him had woken and refused to fall asleep again.
Lyra hovered near the door, clutching a blanket. "Are you okay?"
"I think so," he said quietly.
"You scared everyone. Even Sir Thane."
"I didn't mean to."
"I know." She hesitated. "When the light came, I heard voices. Not just yours."
Cael looked up sharply. "You heard them too?"
Lyra nodded. "They were sad. Like they'd been waiting a long time."
He didn't answer. He didn't have one.
Outside, rain tapped softly against the window. The storm never really seemed to leave after last night—it only learned to whisper.
---
Sir Thane entered without knocking. His armor was gone, replaced by a long brown coat, but the weight in his expression hadn't lifted.
"Come, lad. Let's talk."
Cael followed him downstairs to the study. The old knight poured tea and handed him a cup, though the boy's hands trembled too much to hold it steady.
"I've seen many things in my years," Thane said slowly, "but never a surge like that. You froze time itself."
"I didn't mean to."
"I believe you." He leaned closer. "But intention won't matter to the wrong people. If the capital hears about this, they'll take you away."
Cael frowned. "Why?"
"Because the Order of Mnemos doesn't tolerate mysteries."
"The Order?"
"Guardians of knowledge, or so they claim. In truth, they're hunters—of people who break the natural order. Aetherbound souls most of all."
The word struck a chord. Aetherbound.
He'd never heard it before, yet it felt like a name he'd carried once.
"What are they?"
"Reborn souls," Thane said. "People who remember lives that should have ended. The Order calls them 'fractures in the world's memory.'"
Cael's throat went dry. "And you think I'm one of them."
"I don't think," Thane said softly. "I know."
---
Lyra burst into the study before either of them could speak again.
"Mother's calling for you, Cael. There's someone here from the village."
Thane's eyes darkened. "Hide the mark."
Cael wrapped a cloth around his hand and followed Lyra to the entrance hall.
A man stood waiting—a tall scholar draped in grey, carrying a silver-tipped staff. His spectacles gleamed when he smiled.
"Ah, young master Renard," he said politely. "I am Scholar Vellor from the temple of Varel. I've come to examine the anomaly reported last night."
Mira Renard wrung her hands nervously. "It was only a burst of light, I assure you. The children were frightened, that's all."
Vellor's gaze lingered on Cael. "Indeed? Yet the soil outside bears marks of Aether resonance. Strange, for a quiet household."
Cael bowed his head, trying to appear calm. "Maybe it was the storm."
The scholar smiled thinly. "Perhaps." He stepped closer. "May I see your hands, boy?"
Cael hesitated.
Thane's voice cut through the room like a blade. "The child's tired. You'll not prod him like some specimen."
Vellor studied Thane, then sighed. "Very well. But if another surge occurs, the temple will inform the capital."
When he finally left, Mira sank into a chair, pale. "Cael, what have you done?"
"I… I don't know," he whispered.
Thane placed a reassuring hand on Mira's shoulder. "He saved lives, not ended them. The boy's no curse."
Still, Mira's eyes were full of fear. Not of him—but for him.
---
That night, Cael couldn't sleep.
The house creaked with the weight of silence. Lyra had fallen asleep beside him again, her small hand clutching his sleeve. He listened to her soft breathing and tried to let it anchor him.
But the world outside the window shimmered faintly—light bending in ways it shouldn't.
He rose quietly, stepping into the hall.
Every shadow seemed alive.
When he reached the courtyard, the scorched circle glowed faintly blue under the moonlight. He knelt, touching the soil. It was warm.
And then he heard it.
A whisper.
Soft at first, like wind through grass. Then clearer.
> "You shouldn't have returned."
Cael's breath caught. "Who's there?"
> "You know me."
A shape formed at the edge of the circle—a silhouette of light and smoke, wearing armor cracked and darkened by fire.
The voice came again, layered with echoes.
> "You left us to die, Commander."
Cael stumbled backward. "That's not true!"
> "We fought for your dream. You sealed us in memory. And now you pretend to be someone new."
"I didn't choose this!"
> "No. But you chose to forget."
The figure stepped closer. For a heartbeat, the moonlight struck its face—and Cael saw his own eyes staring back.
---
(continued in Part 2 →)