Not the heavy, suffocating kind that followed an endingbut a gentle one. The kind that wrapped around you softly, like a blanket pulled just high enough to keep the cold away.
The first thing I noticed was warmth.
The second was the bed.
It was mine. I recognized the faint scent of the sheets, the familiar ceiling above me, the subtle creak of the wooden beams when the wind brushed against the manor walls. I wasn't in the library anymore.
I was home.
My body felt… strange. Not weak, but hollow, as if something had been carved out and replaced with something heavier. Denser. When I breathed, I felt itdeep inside my chestan unfamiliar presence that pulsed faintly in time with my heartbeat.
A magic core.
Before I could dwell on it, a hand tightened around mine.
"Richard…"
Melinda's voice tremblednot with fear, but with something dangerously close to joy. She was sitting beside my bed, white hair falling loosely over her shoulders, her eyes locked onto my face as if I might disappear if she looked away.
Standing near the foot of the bed was Patrick.
Arms crossed. Expression controlled. But I knew him well enough now to see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was set too tightly.
"He's awake," Melinda said, as if she needed to convince herself.
Patrick exhaled slowly. "Good."
They had been talking before I woke up. I could tell. The air was thick with unfinished thoughts.
"This is unreal," Melinda continued, brushing her thumb gently against my hand. "Absolutely unreal. A four-year-old… forming a magic core on his own. Do you realize what this means?"
Patrick didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he said carefully, "I realize what happens if the wrong people hear about it."
Her lips curved upward, unable to hide her pride. "My child is a genius mage."
"That," Patrick replied, turning to her, "is exactly what worries me."
She laughed lightly, clearly teasing. "Oh? Or are you just upset because he picked a wand over a sword?"
Patrick sighed. "Melinda."
But she wasn't done.
Her expression softened, not mocking, not playful, thoughtful. "Still… how is it even possible? I was considered a prodigy in my time. And even then, I formed my core at six."
She leaned closer to me, smiling faintly. "And I still chose magic over swords."
Patrick looked away. "So in the end… that was your choice."
There was something in his voice then. Something quiet. Regret, perhaps. Or resignation.
I didn't like it.
"I want to learn swordsmanship too."
Both of them froze.
Melinda gasped softly. Patrick's eyes snapped toward me.
"Richard?" she whispered. "You're awake?"
I nodded. My throat felt dry, but my voice came out steady. "I want to learn magic. But I don't want to only learn magic."
They stared at me.
Patrick stepped closer. "You heard all of that?"
"Yes."
A pause.
Then Melinda laughed genuinely, bright, relieved. "He wakes up after collapsing half the library and immediately makes demands."
"I'm serious," I said.
Patrick studied me carefully. "Why?"
I thought about it.
About my previous life.
About being molded into something I never chose.
About the fear I had feltnot of my parents now, but of disappointing them.
"I don't see why a mage can't be strong," I said finally.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Patrick laughed.
A deep, surprised sound. "I suppose geniuses really do think differently."
Melinda nodded, smiling warmly. "I agree."
Patrick straightened. "Very well. If you wish to learn the sword, I won't be the one to teach you."
I blinked. "Why?"
"Because I'm your father," he replied simply. "And because this duchy has someone better suited."
He turned toward the door. "I'll entrust your swordsmanship to Roosevelt. Vice Commander of the Duchy Army."
I knew the name.
Ayer was known across the continent as the Northern Shield. Our military strength wasn't a rumor; it was a fact. Roosevelt was one of the reasons why.
"And magic," Melinda added, standing up. "Will not be taught lightly either."
She smiled faintly, a glint of nostalgia in her eyes. "I'll call an old friend. From my days as a mercenary."
Patrick raised an eyebrow. "From the Tower of Aoxon?"
"Yes," she replied. "Judith."
Even without knowing her, I could tell from their expressions that whoever she was, she wasn't ordinary.
They made plans above me. Calmly. Carefully.
And for the first time… they asked me something that mattered.
"Are you okay?" Melinda asked softly.
I nodded.
I was.
Not because the future was easy.
But because, for the first time, I wanted to face it.