The silence pressed down on Ares until it felt like he could barely breathe.He fell to his knees, the sobs tearing out of him raw and uneven.
"Why… why is this happening to me?"
The words came out broken. His hands trembled as he looked around at the ruins of his world — cold walls, empty rooms, and nothing that felt real. He wanted it to stop. He wanted all of it to stop.
It was too much. Too cruel. Too empty.
And then, the air changed.
The weight lifted, and for a brief, fragile second, the world shimmered.
A sound broke through the stillness — laughter. Light, familiar, impossibly warm.
Ares turned, and there she was, a memory conjured out of grief.
Mia stood to his left, smiling, her small hands clutching the hem of the dress he had made her — the first one he had ever sewn, uneven and full of love. Her hair glowed softly in the dim light, and her eyes sparkled like tiny shards of dawn.
"I'm sorry," Ares whispered. "I'm so sorry I let this happen to you…"
Mia tilted her head, her smile unfading. "Why are you crying, silly?" she said, her voice ringing like chimes. "Don't cry. Don't cry…" She stood in front of him, concerned.
Ares further broke into tears. "I... will you forgive me?"
The memory looked up, puzzled. "Are you sad?" Then her face lit up with an idea. "Why don't we play? Hide and Seek. I will hide, and you come find me. Okay? You have to come find me."
"I will find you no matter what happens," Ares made a promise.
And with those words — light as breath — she was gone.
The silence rushed back, but something inside him had shifted. The grief, the terror, the helplessness — all twisted together into something sharper.
Resolve.
His soul moved as if drawn through invisible threads, weaving into a conduit of Vraelm weave. He found himself standing at the place without time, fashioned with countless weave conduits.
Thousands of spells shimmered before him.
"They are mostly garbage, but those are something else." Astro's words came unbidden.
He reached for one. Then another. Mastering each conduit through sheer will.
Days blurred into months. Months into years. Years into centuries. Centuries into something beyond meaning. He studied, failed, rewove, destroyed, rebuilt — each failure cutting away a part of his doubt until only purpose remained.
He must find a way out of his cursed helplessness; he was done being a plaything.
He learned the magic of stone, of metal, of water, of conjuring flame and bending space — he hoped something in them might come in handy. He just had to figure out how they could help him find his family.
With time, he forgot why he began. He shed away the unnecessary thoughts. The what-ifs melted into musts, and only the weaving, the breaking, the remaking remained.
Until one day, he looked up.
Seven spells hung above him, glittering like constellations carved from soul. Their light pulsed faintly, as if waiting.
Ares stared at them, eyes burning with exhausted wonder. He reached again — failed again — tried again. And again. And again.
The repetition blurred time itself. Until the memory of his sister was no longer a picture, but a feeling buried deep inside his chest.
And then — something broke.
Ares finished the first spell.
He looked at the soul conduit in front of him, hoping the words of the hedgehog remained true. Someone's life's work might be his salvation. It should help him bring back his family — to undo the hollow world, to heal the emptiness.
He exited the realm without time and found himself back, the pain still raw in his body, the uneasy feeling, the throbbing pain in his head. It was still there. Emotions that had dulled down with time came back in full.
"I had almost forgotten," Ares said out loud. Then he made the soul conduit of the latest spell. It took him about five minutes to complete. The motes filled in, and he joined them together in one stroke...
The air remained still. Even through his sight — his true sight — he saw nothing new. No hidden layers, no deeper weave. Just light fading quietly into nothing.
He clenched his fist, frustration gnawing at his chest. "Why… doesn't it work?"
He tried again. Rebuilt the pattern, adjusted the conduits, refined the runes. Still nothing. Only silence.
"Why won't you work?" Ares said in frustration. As he finally gave up casting this unknown weave, he looked around helplessly. Arwen's words surfaced in his mind. The Academy, Orientation. Possible leads in the university.
"But how do I get back? I still am not sure how the teleportation works. Both times had been…" Suddenly, an idea struck him.
Both times the spell had worked before — the teleportation to the kitchen and to his home — he had been thinking of someone.Not a place. A person.
He inhaled slowly. "Mia…"
He thought of her — her laughter, her smile, her voice. The warmth of her presence.He activated the spell. Tearing pain coursed through him as the spell ripped apart his soul conduit.
He vanished and reappeared in his sister's room. He laughed bitterly, his mind still ringing with pain. Only if it was that easy.
He tried again — this time thinking of going back to his empty stone room. He remembered the number etched "7" on the metal frame.The air shivered. Light bent around him.And suddenly — the scene shifted.
He stood inside a familiar space — his residence for the past two months. The weight of the transition burned through his body like molten glass. The conduit had once again ripped apart due to the spell.
He staggered forward, clutching his chest. "I have to do something about this…"
His soul was mostly spent. The pain left his limbs trembling. He moved toward the pantry to replenish his soul.
Beth was there, preparing food. The smell of warm broth filled the air.
She turned when she saw him. "Oh, you're back. You look… tired," she said softly, studying his face.
Ares forced a small nod, trying to compose himself. "Just… practicing. It didn't go well."
Beth smiled faintly, though concern flickered in her eyes. "Sit down. You need something to eat."
He obeyed silently. The room felt distant, as if it belonged to another world. His thoughts were still half tangled in the recent events.
He needed to understand. To control it. The food brought him relief.
So he tried again.
He began forming the same spell — not to teleport this time, but one of the seven. The complex weave once again took time to form, his will woven into a complex pattern of white light.
When he activated it, something strange happened.
A string — thin, shimmering — formed between him and Beth. It was faint, almost invisible, but he could feel it.And through it, something passed.
Not words. Not thoughts.Feelings.
Warmth.Patience.Gentle curiosity.
He gasped, startled by the sensation. "Beth…?"
She looked up, unaware of the connection. "Yes?"
He could feel her warmth as if it radiated from within him. Shocked, he could feel what she felt, like an echo of her mind. He wanted to find what further things the spell could do.
"Can you teach me about the food? How you make it shine like that — the silver soup?"He felt her hesitate. The warmth wavered, replaced by a flicker of tension — not anger, but guardedness.
Ares blinked. He couldn't hear her thoughts, but he could feel her hesitation.
When she finally answered, "It's just an old family recipe," the feeling that reached him was faintly bitter — unease.
He leaned forward, fascinated. Each question he asked brought a new emotional shade — joy, doubt, anxiety, amusement — a peek into the mind of the gentle cook.
He realized what this meant. This would bring him answers.
He could feel the emotions of others. Not read their minds, but sense the truth beneath their words.The connection between people — the unseen current — was visible to him now.
And for the first time in what felt like eternity, Ares smiled.
He didn't yet know what this new power meant. But it was something.A thread — fragile but real — connecting him back to the living world.
And perhaps, just perhaps, it would help him find his family.