The reflection in the mirror did not lie.
Five years had passed since that day—the day I asked my mother and Isis to truly train me. And now, before the polished surface, I no longer saw the nine-year-old boy who had left filled with hope and youthful arrogance.
My face was now firmer, with striking features, a well-defined jaw, and silver eyes with bluish undertones—the same as hers. My body had changed completely, now toned, strong, with muscles sculpted through sweat and pain. Long white hair cascaded down my back like strands of living light. I was taller now—exactly 1.80 meters. And more than that... I was more mature. Not just on the outside.
At my sides, I could feel the presences that had shaped this new self.
