Rivan's vision seized him like a storm.
Twin moons hung over a battlefield stretching beyond comprehension. Towers of blackened stone rose and fell in the glow of fire, etched with runes that pulsed faintly like veins. Smoke thickened the air, acrid and metallic, tangled with a faint hum of residual magic. Every inhale burned his lungs, yet he couldn't look away.
Beneath his feet, golden lines cracked and writhed like molten threads, pulsing in rhythm with a heartbeat that was not entirely his own. Power coiled along the earth, winding around his legs and climbing his spine. Adrenaline collided with awe, leaving him breathless.
A faceless figure stood beside him. Silent. Immense. Every instinct screamed to run — yet another urged him to stay. To listen. To understand.
Flames danced across the battlefield, sparks drifting lazily on winds carrying whispers. "You cannot hide from what you are, Arion."
The name struck like lightning. Not Rivan. Something older. Something deeper. His hands clenched, veins flaring gold, connecting him to the pulse beneath the earth. It was alive. Observing. Patient.
The faceless figure shifted subtly, pressing on him like gravity. Heat and cold collided on his skin — the warmth of his mana flaring in response, while a sharp, cold awareness traced his spine. Light, stone, wind — even the faint glow of the moons seemed to obey him.
Rivan staggered back, lungs ragged. Sparks of energy danced over the scorched ground, wrapping fissures in golden light that mirrored the veins beneath his skin. A low hum vibrated through him, through his bones. The world itself remembered him.
"Who… am I?" he whispered.
The faceless figure remained silent. Yet the air, the earth, the faint glow of twin moons seemed to answer: You are the one who awakens them.
A pulse surged — brighter, stronger, thundering in tandem with his heartbeat. Not merely memory. A warning. An invitation. A beginning.
The vision shattered like glass.
Rivan clutched at his chest as the battlefield faded, replaced by the shadows of the eastern training hall. Golden threads beneath his skin still pulsed, trying to hold the memory themselves. Ash drifted lazily, mingling with the acrid scent of burnt mana. He blinked, orienting himself. Broken tiles, fractured floors, residual sparks of energy — it was all real.
Every muscle tensed. Every breath felt weighted. The low, insistent vibration beneath the foundations pressed against his senses, patient, waiting.
"Rivan…"
Liora's voice cut through the haze. She approached cautiously, boots crunching against debris. Her eyes scanned the golden veins coiling along his arms, and for a moment, he felt exposed under her measured gaze.
He exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to his temple. The memory's echo still lingered, threading through his chest, racing through his veins.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, low but sharp, a blend of concern and command.
Rivan blinked, caught off guard. "I… I don't know," he admitted, voice rough from the memory and lingering mana. "I just… felt something. A… pull. I couldn't stop myself."
Her gaze flickered over the shattered hall, noting the faint traces of drifting mana. "This place… you didn't come here by accident," she murmured more to herself than him. Her eyes locked on his. "Rivan, tell me exactly what you felt. Don't leave anything out."
Chest tight, mind still echoing with moons, towers, and the faceless figure, he swallowed hard. "It's like… the building itself, the mana… it was calling me. And… I saw something. Towers, moons… someone standing there. I don't know who it was, but I felt… I was supposed to see it."
Liora's expression darkened. Fingers tightened around the staff at her side, faint ripples of light flickering from its crystal core. "You shouldn't have sensed that much. The eastern spire… it's sealed for a reason. You weren't meant to interact with the core mana. Not yet."
Rivan's pulse quickened. "I didn't choose this! It just… happened!"
She softened slightly, posture still alert. "I know. But there will be consequences. Something inside you… it's different. Stronger. Older. And it's waking faster than expected."
He swallowed, trying to steady trembling hands. "Then what do I do?"
Liora stepped closer, voice quiet, heavy. "For now… stay out of places like this. Don't push the mana. Not until we understand what's happening inside you."
Rivan nodded, though the golden light beneath his skin flickered as if disagreeing — a heartbeat no longer entirely his own, alive, patient, and waiting.
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