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Chapter 5 – The Silent Echo

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I felt was weight.

Not pain.

Not weakness.

It felt as if my body no longer fully belonged to me.

My arms, my legs, my chest—they were all there.

But something inside me was… quiet.

Mana…

It wasn’t gone.

It simply wasn’t responding.

That thought had barely settled when soft murmurs reached my ears.

Low. Trembling.

Prayers.

I slowly opened my eyes wider. The wooden beams of the ceiling came into view—familiar. My room. My bed. And beside me, kneeling on the floor, was someone I knew all too well.

My mother.

Lyria’s hands were clasped over my chest. Her lips moved faintly, the words almost breaking apart before leaving her mouth.

“—may the light protect him…”

“—may his body endure…”

Her breath shook.

Then our eyes met.

“Mother…” I whispered.

My voice was weak, barely more than air—but it was enough.

She froze.

The prayers stopped mid-word. Slowly, she lifted her head, and the tension on her face collapsed the moment she realized I was awake.

“Thank the heavens…”

She wrapped her arms around me tightly. Too tightly. As if letting go would make me disappear again. I could feel her trembling, hear the shallow breaths she tried to hide.

I didn’t speak.

I simply closed my eyes and let myself feel it.

This warmth… was real.

That’s when I noticed the figure standing behind her.

My father.

Doran stood at the side of the bed, arms crossed. His face was calm as always—but his eyes weren’t.

He wasn’t just looking at me.

He was looking at what had happened.

When my mother finally pulled away, my father stepped closer.

“What happened?” he asked.

His voice wasn’t harsh.

But it carried expectation.

I wanted to answer. Truly.

But the only thing that came out was honesty.

“I don’t know,” I said quietly.

“I really don’t.”

He stared at me for a moment, searching for something—then exhaled softly.

“I see.”

He didn’t press further.

That evening, we ate together as if it were a normal night. Mother stirred the soup more than necessary. Father spoke less than usual. And I… listened to my own body with every bite.

My mana remained silent.

When I went to bed, exhaustion claimed me—not physical, but mental.

I don’t remember falling asleep.

Cold.

That was the first thing I felt.

I was standing when I opened my eyes, yet the ground beneath me wasn’t stone or soil. It shimmered faintly, like dark glass reflecting nothing.

Walls surrounded me—but they were far away.

There was no ceiling. Above me stretched a vast, endless darkness.

A dungeon?

A cellar?

A palace?

I couldn’t tell.

But I wasn’t alone.

Then—

A voice rose.

“Grow stronger.”

It didn’t echo.

It didn’t come from any direction.

It spoke inside me.

I looked around, but there was no one.

“Grow stronger.”

My heartbeat quickened.

And then, for the third time, the voice returned—louder. Heavier.

“GROW STRONGER.”

I stepped back, breath catching in my throat. Something inside me stirred… something that wanted to answer.

And—

I woke up.

I was back in my bed.

My clothes were soaked with sweat. My chest rose and fell violently as my heart pounded against my ribs.

“It was just a dream…” I whispered.

I tried to convince myself.

But the lingering sensation in my chest refused to fade.

By morning, the house looked normal again.

Mother prepared breakfast. Father stood by the window. Everything was as it should be.

Except me.

During the meal, my father spoke.

“Kael,” he said,

“you leave tomorrow.”

My spoon froze mid-air.

“There are things I need to give you before you go.”

After breakfast, we went down to the lower level of the house.

Father stood before an old, massive chest. Its surface was worn with age. The lock opened with a deep, heavy sound.

First, he took out a dark robe—thick and sturdy.

Then a necklace. Simple in appearance, yet the moment I held it, a faint warmth spread through my chest.

Finally—

Two swords.

The metal was silent.

But I knew they weren’t empty.

Father met my gaze.

“No matter what happens,” he said,

“never forget that we support you.”

Mother stood beside me, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“And please,” she added softly,

“come visit us often.”

I nodded.

That night, my belongings rested beside my bed.

And for the first time—

I truly didn’t know where this journey would take me.