Morning sunlight poured through the crystal windows of the Ardenthal manor, painting the white marble halls in gold.
Sho sat beneath the mana tree in the courtyard, a small notebook in his lap, eyes half-closed in thought.
Five years had passed since he came into this world.
Five years since he'd opened his eyes as a newborn with the memories of another life — a life that now felt like a half-remembered dream.
Sometimes, when the wind was quiet, he thought of Aya, his little sister back on Earth.
Her laughter, the way she used to drag him out of his room to play in the rain.
He had promised her he'd take her to see the city lights one night.
> I really did leave you behind, didn't I… Aya?
The ache in his chest was small but constant — a gentle reminder that this second life wasn't a gift; it was a responsibility.
> If I've been given another chance, I'll make it mean something.
---
"Sho," his mother's voice called from the terrace. "You've been sitting there for an hour."
He smiled faintly. "Just thinking."
Lirien walked over, her steps graceful as always, the air bending slightly with her mana. "Thinking again, or plotting how to skip breakfast?"
He grinned. "Both."
Her laugh was soft — a sound that always made him feel at ease. "Then perhaps it's time for a new kind of study. Let's test what your mind and magic can do together."
---
They moved to the training courtyard — a wide space of stone circles and flowing mana streams.
Lirien's voice was calm but firm. "Remember, magic is alive. It answers emotion more than command."
Sho nodded, holding out his hand. "Emotion, not force. Got it."
He closed his eyes, drawing on that hum deep inside — the quiet rhythm that always pulsed beneath his heartbeat.
The air shimmered, silver-blue light gathering around his fingers.
He focused on balance, not strength.
The mana responded, forming a small sphere that hovered above his palm — faint at first, then steady and bright.
Lirien's lips curved upward. "Good. You've improved your flow control."
But Sho wasn't done. His curiosity — that analytical spark from his old life — pushed him further.
> What happens if I match my breathing to the mana pulse? If I synchronize instead of lead it?
He adjusted his rhythm, exhaling slowly.
The orb of light flared — not violently, but beautifully. The glow expanded, rippling across the courtyard like soft waves.
And then—
Boom.
The sky itself seemed to tremble. The air thickened with invisible pressure, leaves rising as though gravity had forgotten them. Clouds overhead twisted into a spiral of silver light.
Lirien gasped. "Sho—!"
He stood at the center, still calm, eyes glowing faintly.
"I… didn't force it," he murmured. "It just… answered."
Then the light faded, and his knees buckled.
Lirien caught him before he fell.
"You're pushing too far," she whispered, voice trembling between fear and pride.
Sho smiled weakly. "Sorry, Mother. I think I… reached something."
"Something?"
He nodded, eyelids heavy. "It felt… warm."
And then he drifted into sleep.
---
Far above the clouds, Liyana Lufinze, the Dragon Queen, stirred from her slumber.
For the first time in centuries, she felt it — a tremor in the world's mana.
Not destruction… not chaos… but life.
She rose slowly from her resting place, golden eyes gleaming through the mist. The wind shifted around her, singing in long-forgotten tones.
> That pulse… it's pure.
She spread her wings, white-gold and radiant, their light tearing through the endless clouds.
The mana of the world was stirring again — because something, or someone, had touched its heart.
---
That night, Sho dreamed.
He stood among clouds that glowed like liquid gold. The air was warm, the sky vast and silent.
In the distance, a shadow moved — a figure shining faintly through the mist.
He couldn't see her clearly, but he felt something.
A warmth. A sadness. A voice that wasn't sound, but feeling — like sunlight pressing gently against his soul.
He reached out a hand. The light seemed to reach back — just barely — before fading into the endless horizon.
When he woke, his heart was still racing.
He looked at his hand, half-expecting the light to still be there.
"Just a dream," he whispered.
But deep down, he knew it wasn't.
Something… someone… had looked back.