Days passed in a blur of lectures, incantations, and endless stares.
At Arcanis Academy, reputation spread faster than wildfire, and mine burned the brightest.
"Voidborn."
"Cursed One."
"Her mana eats the light."
I pretended not to care, but every whisper was a reminder:
I wasn't supposed to exist here.
Lyra stayed close. Her presence was a strange comfort—bright where I was shadow, warmth where I was void. She didn't flinch when the air darkened around me or when shadows moved without my command.
"You scare them," she said one morning as we walked toward the training fields. "But fear isn't always bad. It means they see your strength."
"Or my curse," I replied.
She laughed softly. "Sometimes, those are the same thing."
The Training Fields were massive—circles of polished stone surrounded by spectral wards. It was where students honed spells and dueled under watchful instructors.
I was sparring against Lyra, though we both knew she was just humoring me. Her flames danced beautifully—crimson ribbons swirling with precision and grace.
"Try hitting me this time!" she called out playfully.
"I could."
"Then do it!"
I sighed, lifted a hand, and focused. The shadows responded instantly, forming a spear of black mist that shimmered faintly violet at the edges. I hurled it forward. It vanished mid-flight, reappearing behind her.
Lyra gasped as it grazed her shoulder, leaving only frost.
"Hey! That's cheating!"
"You said to hit you."
She laughed despite herself. "Fine, you win."
The instructor overseeing us, an older mage named Professor Halden, raised an eyebrow. "Spatial distortion through void manipulation… fascinating. Dangerous, but fascinating."
I bowed my head slightly. "I'll keep control."
"See that you do," he said, walking away.
Later, while heading back to the dorms, a strange pulse of energy rippled through the air—faint but familiar, like the echo of a long-forgotten voice.
I stopped.
"Serena?" Lyra turned. "What's wrong?"
I didn't answer. My heart was racing.
It was impossible, yet undeniable.
That energy—cold, radiant, and sharp—was his.
"Arlen…"
The name slipped out before I could stop it.
The Void stirred inside me, whispering in delight.
"Ah, so you finally feel him."
"How can he be here?" I whispered under my breath.
"Souls rarely perish completely. They scatter… and reform when the world calls again. Your betrayer walks this realm once more, reborn just as you were."
My fists clenched. "Show me where."
"Patience. The threads will cross soon. Watch, and you will see."
The chance came the next evening.
The academy's Grand Hall hosted a welcoming banquet for new students—an excuse for nobles to display power and commoners to feel out of place.
I went because Elion insisted it would help me "blend in." It didn't. I stood by the far wall, watching golden chandeliers reflect in my wine glass while conversations rippled like meaningless noise.
Then, I felt it again.
That same pulse.
Closer.
I turned—and the world fell away.
Standing across the hall, speaking casually with another group of students, was a boy with golden hair and blue eyes. He laughed at something someone said, the same way he used to.
For a heartbeat, the years vanished.
I saw his blade piercing my chest again.
I heard the rain, the betrayal.
"No…" I whispered. "It can't be…"
Lyra noticed my stillness. "Serena? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Something like that."
The boy glanced up then, sensing my stare. His eyes met mine across the crowd—calm, curious, unrecognizing.
But the soul behind those eyes… I knew it too well.
He was Aurel Vayne, son of Duke Vayne, a prodigy of light magic.
And once—he was Arlen.
The Void's voice was silk and venom all at once.
"There he stands. The one who ended you."
"He doesn't remember."
"Does it matter? The blood in his soul sings the same."
Aurel looked away, laughing again, oblivious to the storm inside me.
My hand trembled around the wine glass until it cracked. Lyra frowned. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
But I wasn't.
The air around me shimmered faintly, shadows curling at my feet.
For the first time since awakening, I felt alive.
"The past found me," I whispered, voice trembling between rage and longing. "Now it's my turn to return the favor."
That night, I stood by the dorm window, watching the twin moons. My reflection looked back at me—eyes burning faint violet.
"You've seen your prey," the Void murmured. "Will you strike now?"
"No. Not yet."
"Then what holds you back?"
I hesitated. "I want him to remember."
"Ah… vengeance with memory. How poetic."
The Void's laugh echoed softly, fading into the dark.
And beneath those twin moons, I swore silently:
He may have forgotten me.
But I will make sure he remembers how it feels to die.