The stillness of the lake lingered in the clearing, broken only by the soft rustle of the alien trees and the distant sound of water. Elias or was it Eiden?, sat on the damp moss, his breathing slow and deliberate. His tears had dried, leaving his face taut and weary. For the first time since waking in this unfamiliar world, his mind was no longer consumed by panic. Instead, it churned with a quiet determination, turning over the fractured memories that now lived within him.
The reflection in the water no longer startled him. It was a reminder of his reality, a face that wasn't his, yet was. The name Eiden Verel felt more natural now, like a word he had always known but forgotten. And with it came the life that name carried.
He closed his eyes and let the memories come.
Eiden Verel, the only son of Markus Verel, a proud father, a skilled craftsman who took joy in creating tools that were both practical and artistic. His mother, Ella Verel, overprotective but loving, saw Eiden not as the failure the world labeled him, but as a boy with potential yet to bloom. His little sister, Mira Verel, just seven years old, clung to him with the unshakable trust of a child.
Eiden wasn't like others in their village. In a world where shaping Essence was a rite of passage, he couldn't muster even the faintest spark. The whispers of his peers and the quiet disappointment of his teachers weighed on him, though he never let it show at home. His father called him "a late bloomer," his mother shielded him from scorn, and Mira adored him regardless.
He had left home three days ago. His destination was Verdant Academy, the legendary institution where elite mages were trained. The journey was one of hope for his parents and obligation for Eiden. It was the last chance to prove he wasn't a failure. If he could earn entry with a full scholarship, perhaps he could make something of himself. But it would take grit and hard work as he would have to be within the Top 10 of the first year's batch.
Elias opened his eyes, the weight of those memories settling into him like sediment in a pond. He gritted his teeth. He was no stranger to the burden of expectations, the pressure to be more. But Eiden's life wasn't just about potential. It was tethered to his family in a way Elias understood all too well.
Just then the name Verdant Academy struck a chord deep in his chest. It wasn't unfamiliar. It was a place etched into the pages of The Wandering Star. The realization spread through him like wildfire: he was inside the novel. The twin moons, the Essence, the Academy, it all matched.
For a moment, his breath quickened again. He wasn't just lost, he was in a place he knew. He had read about Verdant Academy, the trials, the dangers, the sacrifices. He knew what was coming, the paths others would take, the choices that led to triumph or ruin.
"I can use this. I know how this story unfolds."
Elias stood, brushing the dirt from his robes. "Verdant Academy," he muttered, the words bitter on his tongue.
I don't have to go. The thought was tempting. He could run, escape into the wilderness, and live a quiet, anonymous life. No trials, no expectations, no pain. He could avoid the suffering written into this world.
But then he thought of Hana and Emi. Their faces blurred as memories of Eiden's family overlapped, but the weight of failure was the same. He had run before, buried himself in work, ignored the calls of those who needed him. And it had cost him everything.
Eiden clenched his fists, the coarse fabric of his robes rough against his palms. "Not this time," he said, his voice steady. "This time, I'll get strong enough to protect them. I'll protect Eiden's family. My family."
He looked toward the horizon, where the faint glow of dawn marked the direction of Verdant Academy. The decision was made. He wouldn't run. Even if it meant suffering, even if it meant facing trials that tested every fiber of his being, he would walk that path.
The journey was grueling, a relentless test of body and will. The forest paths were anything but forgiving, winding through steep hills and shadowed valleys that seemed to stretch endlessly into the unknown. Each step was a challenge, his feet sank into the damp moss that carpeted the ground, and gnarled roots threatened to trip him at every turn. The air was thick with the scent of earth and decay, and the occasional cry of distant creatures sent shivers down his spine.
Eiden pushed forward, the ache in his legs growing sharper with each mile. His body, unfamiliar and lighter than his own, felt fragile, as though it might give out at any moment. Yet, he forced himself to keep going, his thoughts a storm of memories that didn't entirely belong to him.
Hana's laughter mingled with the quiet voice of Eiden's mother, comforting him during childhood nights of fear. Emi's small, soft hand in his own blurred with Mira's joyful hugs, her trusting eyes filled with the unwavering belief that her older brother could do anything. The memories intertwined, each as vivid and potent as the other, until he could no longer separate one life from the other.
But instead of confusing him, those memories gave him strength. He clung to them like a man drowning, finding purpose in the faces that flickered in his mind. Every ache in his muscles, every scrape against the jagged rocks and thorny underbrush became a reminder of why he couldn't falter. He had failed once before, had let his own family slip through his grasp because of his selfishness and cowardice. He wouldn't let that happen again, not to Eiden's family, no, his family.
As the forest thickened, the terrain became more treacherous. Loose stones shifted beneath his weight, and sharp branches clawed at his robes, leaving faint tears in the fabric. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on him, but each time he slowed, the faces of those he loved, those he had lost and those he vowed to protect, pulled him forward.
The forest wasn't just a place, it was a crucible, testing his resolve, daring him to give up. But Eiden didn't stop. He couldn't. By the time the trees began to thin and the first golden hues of dawn broke through the canopy, his body felt like it was held together by sheer willpower. His robes were damp with sweat and streaked with dirt, his disheveled hair clung to his face, and his legs trembled with each step. Yet, there was a clarity in his mind, a quiet strength born of purpose.
Each step forward wasn't just a movement toward Verdant Academy. It was a step away from the man he used to be and toward the man he wanted to become.
The sun climbed higher, its warmth cutting through the chill of the forest, but Eiden barely noticed. By the time he reached the edge of the woods, the golden light of dawn bathed the landscape. In the distance, atop a hill, stood the gates of Verdant Academy.
They were taller than he imagined, wrought of silver and shimmering with faint traces of Essence. Beyond them, the sprawling campus loomed, a collection of towers, gardens, and courtyards alive with motion. Students moved like ants, their laughter and chatter carried on the breeze.
Eiden trudged forward, his steps heavy. His robes were damp with sweat, his hair matted from the long trek. He stood before the gates as the first rays of sunlight crowned the hill, casting him in shadow. His reflection in the silver gates showed a young man with disheveled hair, weary eyes, and a resolve carved from pain and determination.
He reached out and touched the cold metal, his hand trembling. The gates began to hum softly, reacting to his presence.
"I'll do better this time," he whispered. "I'll protect them."
As the gates creaked open, the rising sun lit the path ahead. Eiden took a deep breath, straightened his back, and stepped forward into the unknown.