Rain tapped gently against the stained glass dome of the Arcanum Academy's great library. Somewhere between the fourth and fifth floors, Kaela paced between rows of ancient grimoires, fingers ghosting over their leather spines.
She wasn't looking for spells.
She was looking for answers.
Behind her, Mira arrived with a soft whisper of boots on polished stone. "You skipped class again."
Kaela didn't turn. "Didn't feel like pretending I'm fine."
"You're worried about Riku."
Kaela's hand stopped on a book with no title. Her claws curled slightly.
"He's changing. I don't know if that soul inside him is bleeding into who he is… or if who he was is bleeding out."
Mira leaned against a shelf. "Then stay close. Anchor him."
Kaela sighed. "I'm not good at that."
"You're better than you think," Mira said gently. "He listens to you."
---
Across campus, Riku stood before the Obsidian Mirror—the one that only responded to bloodlines and buried truths. He'd been summoned here by Vaelin again, but this time, the old scholar was nowhere to be found.
Only the mirror. Waiting.
He stepped forward. Its surface remained black, absorbing light, warping his reflection. Then, faintly, a glimmer—like something beneath.
He reached out. His hand passed through.
Suddenly, pain. Like his chest was tearing apart.
He staggered, images flashing behind his eyes—
a battlefield in flames,
a sword shattered,
a girl crying out his name—
but it wasn't Kaela.
And it wasn't him.
He gasped and fell back. The mirror went dark.
Behind him, someone clapped slowly.
Lucien.
"You keep poking at things that should stay buried," he said, arms crossed.
Riku stood. "You followed me?"
"I'm not stalking you. I'm… watching."
Lucien stepped forward, serious for once.
"I've been researching the Fallen Hero. The one you look like."
Riku's eyes narrowed.
Lucien continued. "He didn't die in glory. He was executed. By the very people who summoned him."
Silence.
"They feared what he became," Lucien added. "What you might become."
---
That night, Kaela couldn't sleep.
She stood at the balcony of her dorm, eyes on the storm rolling across the mountain ridges. Her instincts prickled. The wind carried something wrong—like a scent before a hunt.
Without thinking, she leapt from the ledge, landing on the stone below with beastkin grace. She ran toward the central spire where the bells hadn't rung in weeks.
But tonight, they tolled.
And only she seemed to hear them.
---
In the underground crypts of Arcanum, Riku moved cautiously.
He hadn't told anyone what the mirror showed him. Not even Kaela.
He needed to know more—about the soul, about the man he looked like.
Torchlight flickered as he entered the Hall of Remnants, a forbidden chamber beneath the academy. Only Vaelin had access. But Riku had borrowed his key.
He found what he was looking for—
a sarcophagus with a name half-erased.
A sword mounted above it.
And a mural—showing the same sigil that had appeared when he fought Lucien.
Riku touched the mural.
The stone pulsed.
Whispers filled his mind.
"You are not him… but you carry what remains."
He fell to his knees, vision swimming.
A voice, like his but older, whispered:
"Do not make my mistake."
---
Suddenly—
A burst of air. A growl. And Kaela was beside him, eyes wide.
"You idiot," she hissed. "You came down here alone?"
Riku looked at her. "I had to."
She helped him up, more gently than expected.
"I think I'm becoming him," he whispered. "I think I'm losing myself."
Kaela's expression didn't waver. "Then let me remind you who you are."
She took his hand.
And for the first time, Riku didn't see the past in his head.
He saw her.