"Leon?" Darius called out to the shirtless figure, who had his back turned and was swinging his sword with practiced precision.
The figure paused, thrusting the blade into the frozen ground before turning slowly to face him. Leon's brows knitted as he took in the sight of his older brother, mug of tea in hand, shivering slightly in the icy air.
"What got you up so early today?" Leon asked, his tone edged with suspicion, as though Darius had interrupted something sacred.
Darius ignored the unfriendly welcome; after all, he was hardly the shining example of an elder sibling.
"Why are you training out in the cold—shirtless, no less?" Darius asked, his voice heavy with disbelief as he sipped his tea.
Leon snorted, his sharp gaze unwavering. "I've been training like this every morning since we arrived. It strengthens my body and builds resilience."
Darius frowned, unsure whether to be impressed or annoyed by Leon's stubborn determination. "Why go to such lengths?" he asked, a twinge of self-reproach flickering in his chest as he marveled at Leon's discipline.
Leon withdrew the sword from the ground and examined its silver surface, the cold light of dawn catching on its blade. "You wouldn't understand," he said after a pause, his voice low.
For a moment, Darius had no words. The truth in Leon's tone stung more than he cared to admit.
"Where did you get that sword?" Darius asked at last, nodding toward the weapon.
"He gave it to me," Leon replied, his gaze distant.
"Who—" Darius began, but his question died on his lips as a figure emerged from the mist.
The man was unfamiliar—dark golden hair, sharp eyes, and a confident air that bordered on arrogance. He wore a simple white shirt, yet the way he carried himself exuded authority. His lips curved into a faint smile, one that inexplicably set Darius on edge.
"And who are you?" Darius asked, stepping instinctively between Leon and the stranger. His tone was anything but welcoming.
"Oh, what a charming way to greet someone," the man said, raising a brow in mock surprise.
Darius clicked his tongue. "Forgive me if I've mistaken your presence for unwelcome intrusion. I wasn't greeting you—I was questioning you."
"Don't be rude, brother!" Leon cut in, his voice sharp with reproach.
Darius shrugged, his expression unreadable. "What sort of spell have you cast on the boy?"
The man chuckled, unfazed. "Leon, your brother certainly talks big for someone teetering so close to the grave."
Darius narrowed his eyes, his grip tightening on his tea. Something about the man put him on edge. Suddenly, he felt a push—no, a force—that sent him stumbling to the side. His reflexes kicked in, and he lashed out with a punch.
To his shock, the man parried the blow effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise.
Darius froze, his breath catching. For a moment, he questioned reality. Was he awake, or had he slipped back into another nightmare?
The man laughed, the sound unsettling in its ease. Leon stood at his side, unmoving.
"Your brother has progressed. He's no longer just absorbing Aether—he's using it," the man said, glancing at Leon with a look of approval. "A fast learner, indeed."
Darius's heart sank. A storm of emotions churned within him—pride for Leon, tinged with envy and a bitter sense of inadequacy.
"Good for him," Darius muttered, his voice hollow. "Now, who are you?"
The man smiled. "Dawn."
Darius raised an eyebrow. "A name doesn't tell me who you are. I'm a full-time big brother by profession. What's yours?"
Leon stepped forward, a note of reverence in his voice. "Show some respect, brother. He's a Paladin of Arkyn."
Darius blinked, his surprise quickly replaced by irritation. "Of course. Paladins seem to be crawling out of the woodwork these days. Is it because of Father's summons?"
Dawn chuckled. "Sharp tongue, dull blade. A pity."
"Whatever. Welcome," Darius said tersely, turning to leave. He sipped his tea, grimacing when he realized it had gone cold.
"You know," Dawn called after him, "I could teach you as well."
Darius paused mid-step, the words hanging in the frosty air.
Should he accept? Could he trust this man?
The hesitation was brief. "No, thanks," Darius said, forcing a smile. "I can't even absorb Aether."
Dawn shrugged. "Suit yourself. See you around."
Darius gave a curt nod and walked back toward the manor. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts—of Leon, of the sword, and of the book he had lost.
'Even if it's gone... I've memorized everything about the flame spell.'
But the thought brought no comfort. If anything, his frown deepened. He could feel it in the air—a time of chaos was coming.
As he reached the manor's door, he hesitated. A sense of foreboding coiled in his chest, and a thought slipped unbidden into his mind.
'Maybe another nightmare wouldn't hurt.'
Because in his nightmares, he could still see the book. And in the book, he could still hear the entity's voice, whispering promises of power.
Power to protect.
Power to destroy.
"P-primitium infirmitatis, it says... I'll have to find what it meant"