The quiet of the Aetheris estate felt unnatural, as though the very air held its breath in anticipation. Days had passed since the ritual, and still, Valen had not awakened.
In a small, secluded chamber within the estate, Valen lay motionless on a silk-covered bed. His pale skin glistened faintly in the soft candlelight, the only indication that life still pulsed within him.
Alaric sat by his side, his face etched with worry, though he kept his emotions in check.
He had followed Valen's orders to the letter, ensuring that no one knew what had transpired in the ancient forest. No one but him.
Two days had gone by since Valen's body was reassembled after the excruciating ritual. During that time, Alaric had silently slipped back into the estate, carrying Valen's unconscious body through the servant's passageways and into his private quarters.
Not even a whisper had escaped to the rest of the household.
As Valen lay still, Alaric stood guard like a sentinel, allowing no one near. The gravity of what had happened weighed on him like a heavy stone.
The ritual had taken everything from Valen—his Primordial Core shattered, his body reformed, yet something in him had changed. Alaric could feel it in the air, though he couldn't place what it was.
He summoned the healer, a man known for his discretion and skill, to examine Valen. The healer moved quietly around the room, his hands hovering over Valen's body as he worked.
His brow furrowed in concentration, yet after a thorough examination, he stepped back, perplexed.
"His body is in perfect condition," the healer said, his voice low but calm. "I can find no physical wounds or signs of illness, yet it appears he is completely drained. His energy... it's as if he has been pushed beyond all natural limits."
Alaric nodded, dismissing the healer with a grateful glance. The explanation didn't satisfy his own suspicions, but it would suffice for now.
He knew better than to expect someone outside of Valen's inner circle to understand the true magnitude of what had occurred. The healer bowed, gathering his thoughts before leaving the chamber in silence.
As the door clicked shut, Alaric exhaled slowly, glancing back at Valen's still figure. His mind raced, replaying the ritual over and over, wondering if Valen would ever truly recover.
For two days, he had watched and waited, but there had been no sign of movement, no flicker of consciousness.
Across the estate, in the grand dining hall, Valen's parents sat in uneasy silence. Marcellus and Isolde had grown more concerned with each passing hour.
They had noticed their son's absence and had been assured by Alaric that Valen was simply recovering from a strenuous training session and wishes not to be disturbed. But that explanation no longer satisfied them.
"I'm worried," Isolde said softly, her amethyst eyes gleaming with barely concealed concern. "He's never been out of sight this long. Not even for training."
Marcellus sat across from her, his silver-white hair catching the light of the candelabras above.
He said nothing for a moment, his sharp gaze flicking toward the entrance of the hall, where he expected Alaric to appear at any moment with an explanation.
"He is pushing himself," Marcellus finally replied, his voice measured but tense. "Valen's ambition has always been... unrelenting. But you're right. Something is different this time."
Isolde's worry deepened, her thoughts drifting toward the possibility of interference. "Do you think someone has—"
"No." Marcellus cut her off, his tone firm. "If something had happened, we would have known by now. But we can't ignore this. I'll speak with Alaric."
But Alaric was one step ahead. He had been following Valen's orders meticulously. He had kept Valen's parents away, offering only enough information to allay their concerns.
He knew that if they interfered now, all of Valen's plans could unravel and maybe it could expose his own interference with the family records—leading to severe consequences.
The third day dawned, and the air in Valen's chamber grew heavier, charged with an unseen force. Alaric had barely left Valen's side, his worry shifting from cautious optimism to outright dread.
The silence was suffocating, and each tick of the clock seemed to stretch endlessly.
And then it happened.
A sharp breath broke the stillness. Valen's chest rose with a shuddering inhale, his fingers twitching faintly as though waking from a long, endless dream.
His eyes, once shut tight, fluttered open, revealing a gleam of violet that had not been there before.
Alaric, startled by the sudden movement, rushed to his side. "My lord?" he whispered, his voice laced with disbelief and relief. He hadn't expected Valen to awaken so suddenly.
Valen blinked, his vision blurry at first. His body felt alien to him, stronger yet impossibly weak at the same time.
He tried to sit up, but pain flared through every inch of him, a raw reminder of the torture his body had endured during the ritual.
He placed a hand against his chest, feeling the strange emptiness where his Primordial Core had once pulsed with power. It was gone. The core that had set him apart from everyone else, the source of his strength—shattered.
A flicker of panic flashed through Valen's mind, but he suppressed it, his expression remaining cold and composed. He took a deep breath, pushing through the pain, trying to assess the damage.
My core... it's really gone.
The realization hit him like a hammer blow, but before the despair could take root, Valen noticed something else—something new.
Deep within him, a faint pulse, subtle yet unmistakable, thrummed through his veins. It wasn't mana, at least not in the way he had known it before. It was something far more potent, more primal, waiting to be discovered.
He couldn't yet understand it, but he knew, instinctively, that whatever had happened during the ritual had not left him empty.
No, he was far from powerless. The new energy coursing through him was different, unformed—but infinitely stronger.
Valen's hands clenched into fists as he began to process the changes. His body, still weak from the ordeal, was already recovering, stronger and more resilient than ever before.
The pain, though still present, was fading. The memory of his body being torn apart, of his soul floating in the void, haunted him, but it also fueled him.
Alaric, standing nearby, watched with cautious optimism. "You've awakened my lord," he whispered, his voice reverent. "I knew you would."
Valen didn't respond immediately. He simply sat there, staring at his hands, feeling the weight of his new reality.
He had lost his cultivation, his Primordial Core was gone—but something far greater had been gained. He just didn't know what it was. Not yet.
As the memories of the ritual flooded back to him, Valen's expression hardened. The cost had been great, perhaps greater than he had anticipated. But the reward... whatever it was, would be worth it.
Slowly, Valen lifted his head, his eyes glowing faintly with a new intensity. The pain was still fresh, his body still mending, but he had survived the ritual.