A sound came by– Carried by the wind, A hum, soft and melodious, its sound soothing, as if sung by a mermaid.
It wove itself through the deepest layers of my slumber, a gentle current pulling me into an ethereal space. Then came the words, whispered in a series of rhymes that danced on the edge of comprehension, their meaning elusive, yet their rhythm profoundly calming
As the words faded, I found myself in a lush greeny hill. There, I saw a woman. Her face was indistinct, a shimmering blur of light and shadow, yet her presence was undeniable. Her hands, delicate and luminous, reached out, not to grasp, but to offer comfort
She looked at my direction, then her mouth moved. Carried by the wind, her words reached my ears, as if spoken by spirits directly
"Is it over now?"
A warmth spread through me, a sense of belonging so absolute it brought an unexpected ache to my chest. It wasn't physical pain, but a deep, visceral hurting, a longing for something irrevocably lost. Her presence filled the void within me, yet simultaneously highlighted its vastness. It was a memory, I instinctively knew, a precious fragment retrieved from the currents of time. But whose memory? And why did it feel so intimately mine, yet utterly alien? The boundaries between dream and reality blurred, leaving me suspended in a state of poignant confusion.
As if feeling my emotions, the woman continued. Her words yet again, carried some inexplicable sense of clarity
"Oh' my dearest knight, please.. find rest in your heart"
Then, as suddenly as it began, the figure dissolved, leaving behind it's proof of existence only in my mind
I woke with a gasp, the last tendrils of the consciousness clinging to my mind. The sun, a harsh glare through the small, grimy window of my room, woke me out of daze. The ache in my chest persisted, a dull throb that resonated with a profound sense of loss. It was a peculiar sensation, like mourning something I couldn't fully recall
"Knight...?" I muttered, rubbing my temples. The reincarnation, the fragmented memories, an alien memories of unknown knowledge– it was all coalescing into a reality far stranger than anything I could have imagined. And now, a mysterious woman humming in my sleep? It was too much to process on an empty stomach
I quickly went through my morning routine, the practicalities of showering and dressing a welcome distraction from the lingering questions of my subconscious. The academy beckoned, and with it, the promise of understanding this world's fundamental source of power: Exallia
As I rushed through the familiar streets, the morning bustle of the market enveloped me. Merchants hawked their wares, students hurried to classes, and the distant clang of a blacksmith's hammer punctuated the urban symphony. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of charcoal and freshly baked bread
I arrived at the academy with seconds to spare, slipping into the lecture hall just as the bell chimed.
As I sat on my desk, several assistants came one by one and put some stones right in front of us.
Professor Elara, a wizened woman with sharp eyes and an even sharper wit, stood at the front, her gaze sweeping across the class. Unlike the previous day's general lecture, this was the practical application class, meaning smaller numbers and a more focused environment
"Good morning, students" she announced, her voice surprisingly robust for her age. "Today, we begin the true journey. The theoretical understanding of Exallia is merely the map; now, we learn to navigate the terrain. Example of Exallia Manifestation is Level One: The Inner Glimmer."
A collective murmur went through the class. Everyone knew this was the gateway to becoming a true conjurer. Failure here meant a significant setback, perhaps even the end of their academic aspirations.
"As you know," Professor Elara continued, her eyes twinkling, "Exallia is the power of the soul. It is not something you 'create,' but rather something you learn to perceive and channel. Your first task is to sense your own inherent Exallia. Close your eyes. Clear your mind of all distractions. Focus inward. Imagine a faint light, a spark deep within your chest. It may feel like a warmth, a tingle, or even just a subtle pressure. That, young conjurers, is the first whisper of your soul."
I closed my eyes, a familiar sensation immediately making itself known. The subtle humming that had accompanied my dream, and which had become a constant, low thrum behind my eyes since my awakening, intensified slightly. It wasn't the fleeting spark the professor described; it felt more like a low, steady ember, waiting to be fanned.
I focused on the feeling, tracing its contours within me. It wasn't localized in my chest as the professor suggested, but seemed to emanate from a central point, radiating outwards, a faint, comforting warmth that pulsed in sync with my heartbeat. It felt… natural. As if I'd been doing this for a lifetime.
After what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, Professor Elara spoke again. "Open your eyes. How many of you felt something? A warmth, a tingling?"
A sea of hands shot up, eager and excited. I raised mine as well, though with less overt enthusiasm. The professor surveyed the eager faces, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Excellent. For those who didn't, do not despair. This takes practice. For those who did, you've taken the first step. Now, for the second part of today's lesson. We will attempt to visualize and project this spark"
She held up a small, smooth river stone. "Focus on your inner mind. Imagine it intensifying, becoming brighter, warmer. Then, gently, with your will, try to push that energy, that light, into this stone. You are not moving a physical object; you are merely imbuing it with a fragment of your soul's power. Some of you might see a faint shimmer, others might feel a slight warmth from the stone. It will be subtle. Do not expect grand displays of power"
A wave of intense concentration fell over the classroom. Students furrowed their brows, their eyes squeezed shut, some even trembling with effort. I picked up a stone from the small pile on my desk. The low hum within me intensified, the warmth in my core growing. I focused, not on pushing, but on connecting. I imagined a filament of light, thin as a spider silk, extending from my being towards the stone, gently wrapping around it.
It wasn't a forceful act, but a subtle persuasion. As I focused, a strange sensation bloomed in my fingertips, a faint tingling that spread through my hand. Then, the stone in my palm began to warm, not just from my body heat, but from within. It was a subtle, almost imperceptible warmth, but it was there. And then, for a fleeting moment, I saw it—a faint, ethereal glow, a soft, almost iridescent shimmer around the stone, like heat haze off a summer road. It lasted only a second before fading, but it was undeniably present.
I opened my eyes, a peculiar mixture of surprise and triumph filling me. It was far more than a "spark" It felt… substantial.
Professor Elara began walking around the classroom, observing the students' efforts. She stopped by one student, then another, offering gentle guidance, occasionally a word of encouragement. As she approached my desk, my heart gave a small thump.
She picked up the stone I had been holding. Her brow furrowed slightly as she felt its surface. Her eyes, sharp as a hawk's, met mine. She didn't say anything immediately, but her gaze lingered, a mixture of scrutiny and something else—a dawning recognition, perhaps?
"This is..." she murmured, her voice barely audible. She then moved on, but not before casting another quick, almost imperceptible glance back at me
What was that?
Deciding not to think much of it, the class continued, with most students struggling to achieve even a faint warmth from their stones. My easy success felt… out of place. Kael Esfort, the depressed, useless student, suddenly demonstrating an innate connection to Exallia. It was sure to raise eyebrows.
Unseen Eyes and Whispers of a Past
The rest of the day passed quickly. After the practical session, there were lectures on the history of conjuring and the ethical implications of Exallia use. My mind, however, kept drifting back to the dream, the singing woman, and the inexplicable ache in my chest. Who was she? Was she connected to my forgotten past? Or was she a manifestation of Kael Esfort's lost memories, a fragment of his former life that my presence had somehow stirred?
As I left the academy grounds, a prickle of unease ran down my spine. It was a subtle sensation, almost imperceptible, but it was there. The feeling of being watched. I instinctively glanced over my shoulder. The bustling crowd offered no discernible culprit. Just faces, blurred by motion and distance.
Yet, the feeling persisted, like a cold finger tracing a path along my spine. It wasn't hostile, not overtly, but it was undeniably present. Someone was interested in me, or rather, in Kael Esfort. Was it related to his past troubles – the scam, the Aberration attack, the betrayal by his teammates? Or was it connected to my sudden, unexpected display of aptitude in class?
The thought sent a shiver down my spine. In a world where soul power was paramount, a sudden surge of talent in a previously unremarkable student could draw dangerous attention. Especially in a kingdom that bordered the Chaos Realm, a place where power, both mundane and mystical, was constantly sought and exploited.
As I walked, I subtly began to test the boundaries of the faint hum within me. It was like a constant, low-frequency vibration, and as I focused on it, a faint veil seemed to lift from my senses. The sounds of the city became clearer, sharper. The nuances of voices, the rustle of clothes, the distant chirping of birds – they all seemed to gain a new dimension, a subtle resonance I hadn't noticed before. It was as if my ears, or perhaps my very consciousness, had been finely tuned.
Wait! This is!!
I realized with a jolt, this, was likely the spiritual sensitivity I had described to the professor, a direct consequence of an awakened Exallia. It was exhilarating, yet also unnerving. To perceive more was to be more vulnerable
The feeling of being watched eventually faded as I neared the tavern. I shrugged it off, attributing it to paranoia stemming from the bizarre events of my reincarnation. Still, a seed of caution had been planted
Who could it be..?
Grace greeted me with her usual warm smile, offering a hearty stew that filled the cavernous emptiness in my stomach. The comfort of the familiar surroundings was a welcome balm to my increasingly complex inner world.
"How was class, Kael?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest.
"Not that bad" I replied, a small smile playing on my lips
"Learned a bit about Exallia today. Seems I'm not entirely useless after all"
She chuckled, a rich, earthy sound "I always knew you had it in you, Just needed to find your footing again" Her words, simple and heartfelt, resonated with a truth that transcended the surface. She believed in Kael Esfort, the broken youth, and in doing so, unknowingly offered solace to the confused soul that now inhabited his body.
As the evening wore on, the boisterous laughter of the tavern regulars filled the air, a chaotic symphony that somehow felt profoundly wholesome.
It was a simple, honest warmth, a stark contrast to the arcane mysteries that now shadowed my existence.
The ache in my chest, a phantom echo of the dream, remained.
But amidst the camaraderie and the genuine kindness of Grace, it felt less like a wound and more like a profound memory, a silent testament to a connection I couldn't yet grasp.
This new life, with its dangers and its mysteries, was also full of unexpected pockets of comfort and warmth. The dream of the humming woman, the unsettling awareness of unseen eyes, the awakening of Exallia within me – they were all threads in a tapestry that was only just beginning to be woven