A week had passed since I awoke in this world. A week filled with long silences, short breaths, and dreams that didn't feel like dreams.
I sat upright in my chamber but now, though even that required effort. My limbs still ached with pain, heavy with the residue of weakness. My chest, though no longer burning it beats like a memory refusing to fade. Pillows were kept behind me, and soft sunlight filtered through the arched windows
Alveris.
That was the name of the kingdom I called home. Located on the continent of Eldoria, it was a land renowned for its wealth and culture, a place where ancient noble bloodlines ran deep. The Oakheart family, my family was one of them.
My mind drifted to the lessons I had absorbed over the last few days, mapping the world outside these walls. To the north, on the continent of Solivarium, lay the Feysac Empire, a terrifying force known for its military might. Sharing that continent was the Council of Veridia and a scatter of smaller nations. To the west of us lies the vast continent of Malrathis, home to the Holy Kingdom of Sanctis and the Nation of Arken, a land famous for its arcane technology along with other small nations.
It was quiet this morning. Or perhaps it was just my room, sealed away from the bustle of the estate. My chamber walls were lined with tall bookshelves and intricate carvings of twisting oak branches the symbol of House Oakheart. The scent of old paper, herbs, and polished wood hung heavy in the air. Somewhere beyond the stone corridors, I could hear the faint ticking of gears and the hiss of steam: the sounds of life in a world that was a strange, impossible blend of magic and machine.
As my strength returned, so did the memories.
Vernalis.
That was the name of the common tongue. It was elegant and haunting; every word felt like it carried physical weight. Even names held deep meanings. Mine, Lucian Oakheart, was written in Vernalis as:
𐌋𐌖𐌔𐌇𐌄𐌍 𐌏𐌊𐌇𐌀𐌓𐌕
The script fascinated me. Each letter was more than a shape or a character; it was a breath, a whisper of meaning carved into the world.
When the servants brought bread, they called it Mirnath (𐌌𐌉𐌓𐌍𐌀𐌕), which translated to "peace made warm." Water was Eruvorn (𐌄𐌓𐌖𐌖𐌎𐌓𐌍), "love carried by resolve." Even the stars were not simply stars; they were Aelmirrin (𐌀𐌄𐌋𐌌𐌉𐌓𐌓𐌉𐌍), "hopes stitched into the silence." It was as if everything in this world had a weight behind its name, as if reality itself wanted to be called nothing but the truth.
In a week, I had learned so much. I learned of machines that ran on steam yet obeyed enchantments. I learned of House Oakheart, whose crest was carved not only into the stone of this manor but into the expectations placed upon me.
I was lost in thought, observing the dust particles dancing in the light, when I heard a loud crack inside my mind.
From that crack rushed countless memories. Some were mine... and some were not.
I saw myself sprinting through a garden, the gentle voices of siblings slowly blending with my own laughter. I recalled Father's warm, strong hand pressing a wooden sword into my grasp on my fifth birthday. I felt the thrill, the pride. I also remembered my mother's gentle embrace when I was scared.
Those moments felt alive, warm, and real.
But then, the light faded.
Everything around me was surrounded by darkness. All I could see was a few meters around me everything after that seems like an endless void of darkness.
And suddenly, as I was trying to understand what had happened just now, A circle drawn in ash appeared below me. From that circle a book appeared.
It was a strange book and it felt like it was calling me towards it. I couldn't stop my curiosity and opened the book. It was blank, there was not a single word written in it. But then as I was looking at it and thinking what is it, black liquid resembling ink started to pour out of the book. The black water started to pour out of the book at high speed. Within seconds, it engulfed me whole, drowning me before I could scream.
After drowning in the black water for a few seconds, everything vanished. I was back to the way I was before, the same dark void which has swallowed me was still here but everything else; the book, the circle of ash, and the black water were gone.
As I tried to make sense of what had happened just now, a figure appeared in front of me. It scared me at first, but it didn't seem to be doing anything. So, I tried to understand what it was.
A man or a woman was it?
It was a shadow at the very edge of my sight. He never stepped forward, never revealed his face. Yet his presence pressed against me like a cold breath on the nape of my neck. He was speaking.
Always speaking.
At first, I could not understand him. The words were broken, tangled in static.
"C..r... c...d..."
I didn't understand it so I tried to hear it again.
"Cu....cur...."
I blinked, and a foolish, delirious thought crossed my mind.
Curry? Was he asking for curry?
A small, jagged giggle slipped through my lips before I could stop it. Absurd. And yet, that silly craving twisted in my stomach I would have killed for a bowl of curry in that moment, just to feel something familiar.
But when I silenced my humor and listened again the words cut through me like a sharp blade of steel.
This time, I heard them clearly. And I wished I hadn't.
"Cursed one... You have become a cursed one."
The air in the room grew instantly heavy, making it hard to breathe. The shadow's lips did not move, yet the words rang in my skull, etched into my mind like Vernalis runes burned into flesh.
I closed my eyes.
The silence pressed closer.
As I started to fall into a deep sleep.