He remembered Miss Greta's classes.
The Church of the Eternal Light.
They weren't just some regional faith. They were a continent-spanning superpower. The church was situated in a colossal holy city, the Eternal Sanctum. A city said to be blessed by the goddess. Their devout believers numbered in the billions. From the loftiest kings to the poorest servants, people across every province paid them respect. Their influence ran deep in royal courts, military alliances, and merchant guilds. Some rulers paid tribute just to avoid holy sanctions.
And then there was the tale of the Five Great Heroes.
Every child on the continent knew it.
Five champions blessed by the gods themselves, chosen to save the world from the Demon Emperor.
And one of them, the most radiant, the most revered, had been a son of the Church.
A mortal who, it was said, was touched by the Goddess of Light herself—Solenyra.
Astrael rubbed his temples.
"Wonderful," he muttered.
"Mmhm," Elyndra hummed
...
The sun peeked through the high-arched windows of the Ravenastra estate, casting golden light across the Astrael room.
Another morning, another beginning. Astraek woke up earlier as always. His body had long since adjusted to the rhythm of discipline and routine. No maids needed to stir him.
Outside, the birds greeted the breeze with song. He paused for a moment on the veranda, letting the cool wind ruffle his hair as he admired the blooming garden, lavender and dandelions swaying gently.
Morning began with training. The sound of clashing echoed across the arena. Astrael, with his wooden sword, and Avalon moved in perfect synchrony. His stances had grown steadier as compared to before,e and his footwork more refined. Sweat dripped from his brow, but his gaze never left the Avalon movement. His strikes were precise. Not the previous blindly striking, but with a deliberate and calculated move.
Sweat trickled down his neck, but his eyes never left Avalon's movements.
"You are adapting faster," Avalon said between strikes. "Good. But don't rely on instincts alone. Let your muscle guide your edge."
"Working on it," Astrael grunted, while parrying and circling.
Elyndra's voice flicked through his mind.
"I'm getting bored."
He ignored her.
Avalon sparred with Astrael, moving his body and sword rhythmically, counterattacking every strike of Astrael. From the beginning, he had told him not to use mana. At first, he thought Astrael's desire to train was just a spur-of-the-moment impulse. But he saw the flame of determination and resolve, as if he were fighting something, and it made him interested in him.
And yes, he knew about Astrael's awakened mana core. He had learned it from his lord.
No one awakened before the Ceremony, not naturally. Yet Astrael had, at just five years old. Even Avalon, seasoned and unshakeable, had been left stunned when Lord Kaelen told him the truth.
In the future, Astrael would definitely be a force to reckon with, and Avalon, as his teacher, would be proud of his young lord's success. That's why he is strict with him, sparring with him personally.
He can't wait to see his young lord during the awakening process and what it foretells. Unknowingly, his lip curled up.
...
After the training with Avalon, Astrael's afternoons were filled with lectures.
Miss Greta still taught him with his calm and aloof personality. Dressed in her usual navy blue robes, a ribbon tying her auburn hair neatly behind her head, she exuded an air of graceful
"Did you complete the work I had given you earlier?" she asked, without turning around. Her voice, as always, was calm and pleasant
"Yes," he answered quietly, giving her the notebook.
She took it with slender fingers, flipped through the pages, her eyes scanning each line. "Hmm. You have done well," she said at last, her tone unchanged, but a trace of approval crept into her eyes.
"Where was I...?"
She adjusted her reading spectacles and reopened her lecture notes.
Continuing the lecture.
...
After the lecture, he spent time with his lovely family
Ha had Sir beside Elara, reading quietly in the warm light of the hearth while she hummed to herself.
"You have grown," she would whisper to him, brushing his hair.
"Too fast for my liking."
And then there was Luna.
Lively. Proud. Reckless.
She also started training physically. She trained it every day, even if it meant accidentally hurting herself.
"You need more focus," Astrael told her once.
"And you need more sleep," she shot back, jabbing his side with a glowing finger. "See? You're cranky when you are tired."
They laughed. A lot.
Even their father, Baron Kaelen, would sometimes join them after his work—removing his cloak and sword, listening quietly as his children bickered, teased, and grew.
In those moments, Astrael wished time would freeze.
More than he expected, for a family marked by fate.
...
And always, beneath it all…
Elyndra.
Sometimes she remains silent, sometimes snarky, depending on her mood. Their bond had grown in a strange way, like a mentor. Whenever he mistake in his training, she corrected him, for which he was very grateful. He always thought she was hiding something, but he didn't ask her. Everyone has secrets. And strange,y though, she can't read his thoughts about his Earth life. As if there is some restriction.
And yet, in rare moments of silence, her voice would whisper in his soul.
"One day, you'll cut through everything. Even your doubts."
And he always answered her:
"Then what?"
But Elyndra never answered that.
...
One of the late nights.
The moon hung high over Ravenastra estate, casting silver light through the garden canopy. The wind had calmed, and even the birds went to sleep. Only the rustling leaves sounded in the dark.
Astrael sat alone in the old wooden chair nestled behind the garden hedge, arms resting on his knees, eyes fixed on the night sky.
He likes this place. The calmness that soothes his mind.
"You're unusually quiet tonight," he murmured aloud.
Elyndra didn't answer at first.
When her voice came, it was low. Soft.
"Some nights are meant to be silent."
Astrael tilted his head, amused.
"That's surprisingly poetic coming from you."
"You're growing," she said simply.
He blinked.
"That's supposed to be a compliment?"
"No. It's a warning."
The cold breeze brushed his skin.
"I can feel something, which is quite dangerous," She said.
"Oh! There is something that made you think dangerously," Astrael chuckled, leaning back against the bench, gaze still skyward.
"I am not joking," She shot him a glare.
"Ok, Ok, so what?"
His voice was quiet, but firm.
"I'm not done growing yet."
Elyndra chuckled in his mind, warm, but laced with something unreadable.
"No. You're not."
The stars shimmered above.
And beneath them, in the silence of the garden, the boy with a soul-bound sword dreamed of days yet to come.