Jack's muscles ached from the past week. Every breath he took came with a sting, but he no longer stumbled through combat drills.
Auren's daily training had carved strength into his limbs and sharpened his senses. Magic, once wild and unpredictable in his veins, now answered him like an extension of thought.
Still, Jack could feel it—something looming. A weight in the air. Like a storm waiting to split the sky.
That morning, Auren led him deeper into the mountain behind the cottage. The path shimmered faintly underfoot, laced with runes Jack hadn't noticed before. The old man held a staff that hummed with faint blue light, and as they moved, the wind whispered names Jack couldn't understand.
They entered a cavern. At its center, embedded in a circle of stones, stood a mirror unlike any Jack had seen before. Its surface looked like still water, but silver light pulsed beneath it, forming symbols that shifted when stared at too long.
Auren's voice was low. "This is the Mirror of Memory. It does not reflect your face, but your truth. Look closely, Jack, and listen to what it chooses to show you."
Jack stepped forward.
At first, there was only mist.
Then: flashes.
A woman's laughter—Isaldora's. A place of turquoise rivers and singing shells. A war-torn battlefield soaked in moonlight. Thalon—tall, golden-eyed, fierce and sorrowful. And then… a girl with blood in her eyes. Isolde.
She reached for him.
Jack gasped and stumbled back.
"She saw me."
Auren's face darkened. "The mirror opens windows. And windows let things look back."
He turned to the boy. "You must be careful now. Her reach grows longer. Your presence in Vaelmir has begun to pull fate's strings."
That night, Auren taught Jack the spell "Elun'drae" — The Mirror Lock. A binding charm designed to shield thoughts from scrying eyes.
They also began to train in deeper moon and water magic. Jack learned:
Lunath'mir – to summon light from the moon to blind or illuminate.
Tir'vael – to silence sound in a small radius, creating space for stealth or meditation.
Ael'sira – to call water spirits for aid or guidance, though Jack could only summon flickers for now.
Just before nightfall, horns blew from the forest's edge.
Auren stepped out and nodded. "They've come."
Dozens of warriors, nobles, and emissaries arrived—each from different ancient Houses of Vaelmir. They had received Auren's message. And they had come to swear allegiance.
One by one, they knelt before Jack, calling him by the name of his father: Thalon Reborn.
A woman in silver armor, from the House of Elirion, stepped forward. "Since Thalon's death, Isolde and the corrupted Council have ruled Vaelmir with an iron fist. Temples to the Light lie in ruin. Worship of the gods is forbidden. The few who still hold faith... are hunted."
A scribe from the Sky-Watchers added, "The realm looks beautiful—but it is only a veil. The Light is fading. The rituals that keep the land alive have ceased. The rivers run thinner. The trees do not hum as they once did. If darkness keeps its grip, the realm's life-force will dwindle."
Jack's hands curled into fists. "Why didn't anyone fight?"
"We did," another voice said, old and tired.
"And we were slaughtered. We needed a sign—something the prophecy promised."
"You," said a young girl with a pale sapphire brand on her brow. "The sixteenth sun rose... and you crossed over."
Jack listened in silence. But inside, a storm brewed.
He could feel Thalon more each day—flashes of memory, instinctual bursts of magic, emotion not entirely his. But something still blocked him from fully connecting with the soul within. It stirred in him like a sleeping god, close… but unreachable.
That night, Jack sat outside beneath the shattered sky, staring at the two moons above. One full. One crescent.
He whispered into the wind: "I need to find you, Dad."
The wind didn't answer.
But the stars shifted.
And somewhere deep in the forest,
something ancient stirred.