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The knock at the door jolted Eryndor out of his spiraling thoughts. He glanced toward the heavy wooden frame, heart pounding, unsure of how to respond. Before he could utter a word, the door creaked open, and a middle-aged man stepped inside, his uniform crisp and his posture as rigid as the blade at his side.
"Young Master Eryndor," the man said, his tone clipped and formal, "your father awaits you in the dining hall."
Eryndor stared at him, his mind fumbling for a coherent response. He didn't know this man, didn't know what he was supposed to say or do. He managed a stiff nod. "Of course," he murmured, his voice foreign and low, as if someone else had spoken for him.
The man didn't linger. He bowed slightly, then stepped aside, leaving the door ajar. Eryndor hesitated before following, his movements slow and unsure. The hallway beyond his room was just as opulent as the chamber he'd woken up in—vaulted ceilings painted with elaborate murals, gilded sconces lining the walls, and a crimson carpet so thick it muffled his footsteps. It was all so alien, so overwhelming, yet the weight of familiarity pressed at the edges of his thoughts.
He moved through the corridors in a daze, the grandeur of the estate doing little to distract him from the turmoil inside his mind. He didn't belong here. He didn't belong in this body, in this world. And yet, as he turned a corner and caught sight of his reflection in a passing mirror, the piercing silver eyes staring back at him dared to argue otherwise.
The dining hall doors were enormous, carved from dark wood and etched with intricate designs of phoenixes and swords. A servant pushed them open as he approached, revealing a room that felt suffocating in its grandeur. A long table stretched through the center, set with silver platters and crystal goblets that sparkled in the morning light. At the head of the table sat a man whose presence commanded the space: Lord Eldrin Valmont.
Eryndor didn't need to be told who he was. The memories—fragmented and uninvited—supplied the answer. Eldrin's features were sharp, his gray eyes cold as steel, and his posture radiated authority. He didn't speak immediately, his gaze boring into Eryndor like a blade testing for weakness. To his right sat Serena Valmont, her platinum-blonde hair catching the light. She held herself with the poise of royalty, her icy blue eyes assessing him with an air of barely concealed irritation. Across from her was a younger boy, perhaps fifteen, with fiery red hair and a mischievous smirk.
"You're late," Eldrin said, his voice cutting through the silence like a whip. "Explain yourself."
Eryndor froze. Every instinct told him to push back, to bristle at the accusation. But this wasn't the world he knew, and the weight of Eldrin's gaze left no room for defiance. He cleared his throat, trying to mask the unease tightening his chest. "I… wasn't feeling well."
"Not feeling well," Eldrin repeated, his tone dripping with disdain. "Do you think the world cares about your well-being? Do you think your enemies will wait until you've recovered?"
"No, Father," Eryndor said, the words heavy on his tongue. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain composed.
"Good. Then stop wasting my time. Sit."
Eryndor moved to the chair closest to him, his stomach twisting as he lowered himself into the seat. He glanced at Serena, who was watching him with a mix of suspicion and irritation. Her expression didn't waver as she spoke. "You've been acting strange since your accident," she said, her voice cool. "Are you still recovering?"
"Accident?" The word slipped out before he could stop it. He bit the inside of his cheek, cursing his carelessness.
Serena's frown deepened. "The fall. You don't remember?"
The fall. The words triggered a flood of fragmented images: a stone courtyard, a misstep during training, the sickening crack of his head hitting the ground. Pain, darkness, and now… this. He forced a nod, hoping it was enough to deflect her suspicion. "It's hazy," he said. "But I'm fine."
Her eyes narrowed, but she said nothing more. The younger boy—Kael, his mind supplied—leaned forward with a smirk. "You're lucky it wasn't worse," he said. "Would've been embarrassing if you'd died falling down stairs."
"Kael," Serena snapped, her tone sharp enough to make him flinch. "Don't be childish."
Kael shrugged, leaning back in his chair. "Just saying."
Before Eryndor could respond, Eldrin's voice cut through the exchange. "Enough. Tomorrow, you will leave for Lunaris Sword Academy."
Eryndor's breath caught. He'd heard the name in fragments of memory—an academy where swordsmen were forged into legends, where the weak were crushed under the weight of expectation. His pulse quickened, but he forced his voice to remain steady. "Understood."
"You'll be tested from the moment you arrive," Eldrin continued. "Your siblings have upheld the Valmont name with honor. You will do the same, or you will not return."
The words hit him like a physical blow, but he masked his reaction, nodding stiffly. "I won't fail."
"You'd better not," Eldrin said, leaning back in his chair. His gaze lingered on Eryndor for a moment longer before he dismissed him with a flick of his hand. "Go."
Eryndor rose, his legs feeling like lead as he left the dining hall. He didn't stop until he reached the balcony outside, the cool breeze brushing against his face. The sprawling estate stretched out before him, impossibly vast and beautiful, but it only served to remind him how far he was from the life he'd known.
"You're quieter than usual."
He turned to see Serena standing a few feet away, her arms crossed as she studied him. She stepped closer, her expression sharp. "You've been acting odd," she said. "The Eryndor I know wouldn't have let Father speak to him like that without snapping back."
"Maybe the fall changed me," he said, forcing a faint smile. "Maybe I'm learning to pick my battles."
"Maybe." Her tone was skeptical, her gaze piercing. "Lunaris isn't kind to the weak. If you're not ready—"
"I'll be ready," Eryndor interrupted, meeting her gaze. His voice was steadier this time, his resolve hardening. "I'll prove myself."
Serena's lips twitched, almost forming a smirk. "We'll see." She turned and walked away, leaving him alone on the balcony.
Eryndor exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on the railing. The weight of this world pressed down on him, but he refused to be crushed by it. Lunaris loomed in his mind like a storm on the horizon, its name a challenge and a promise.
Whatever awaited him, he would face it. Failure wasn't an option.
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