A new day dawned, and Morvane found himself staring out the large window of his new room. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the cozy space. His bed, soft and inviting, felt like a world away from the hard, worn mattress he had once slept on. The room was richly decorated, with tapestries hanging from the walls and a soft, thick rug underfoot. It was a strange, surreal shift—one that had come far too quickly for him to truly process.
He still hadn't fully adjusted to life in the palace. The luxury, the service—it was all so different from his old life. Servants would come to attend to his needs, bringing food, fresh clothes, and ensuring his comfort. For the first time, Morvane could just relax, without worrying about the weight of everyday chores. But even with the warmth of his new bed and the comfort surrounding him, something felt... off. A strange power was stirring inside him, growing stronger each day. The necklace may have been broken, but the curse—or gift, as Medas called it—hadn't gone away. It was only growing more powerful.
As he lay in bed, deep in thought, a knock at the door interrupted his quiet reflection.
"Morvane, are you awake?" a familiar voice called.
It was Luna, accompanied by Esmael. They stepped into the room with friendly smiles on their faces. Their presence brought a sense of comfort to Morvane, as if they were a reminder of his past life—before the power, before the palace, before everything had changed.
"I was hoping you'd visit," Morvane said, sitting up from the bed. "I didn't think I'd see you guys so soon."
Luna laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. "You thought we'd let you off that easy?" She glanced around at the extravagant surroundings. "The palace is nice, but it's not home. I'm sure you're still getting used to it all."
Morvane nodded slowly. "Yeah… it's a lot to take in. I've never had anything like this. But, I guess I'm adjusting." He paused. "Sort of."
Esmael crossed his arms, his usual calm demeanor replaced with concern. "Are you sure you're okay? Medas didn't tell us much, but we know something's not right with you." His eyes searched Morvane's face, as though trying to read him. "What's going on?"
Morvane hesitated for a moment. He hadn't told them everything, but they deserved to know. "It's… hard to explain. The power inside me—it's growing stronger, and I can't really control it. Medas thinks it's a curse, but I don't know. He said there's more to it, that I'm not just markless, that I've been given power from somewhere else… somewhere dark." He shivered as he spoke. "I don't know what to do."
Luna sat on the edge of the bed, her expression softening. "You don't have to go through this alone, Morvane. We're your friends. You can talk to us."
Esmael nodded, his stern expression softening just a little. "And if you need help controlling that power, we'll figure something out. You don't have to face this curse, or gift, by yourself."
Morvane's chest tightened at their words. A sense of warmth spread through him, a reminder that no matter how strange or difficult his new life was, he wasn't truly alone. But that didn't take away the fear gnawing at the back of his mind—the fear of what he could become if he couldn't control the power inside him.
He looked at both of them, offering a small smile. "Thanks, guys. I appreciate it."
Luna placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Anytime, Morvane. We're here for you. Now, tell us about life in the palace. Is it really as great as they say?"
Morvane couldn't help but chuckle. "It's not as great as they say… it's definitely strange, though. But I guess I'll get used to it."
The conversation between Morvane, Luna, and Esmael was cut short when the door to the room creaked open. Morvane turned to see Medas enter, accompanied by a familiar figure. It was a man with a tall, imposing frame, his eyes sharp and calculating. He wore a regal, dark crimson cloak adorned with intricate patterns, the fabric seeming to shimmer with an otherworldly quality. The moment Morvane laid eyes on him, a strange sense of recognition flashed in his mind, though he couldn't place where he had seen him before.
Medas smiled as he entered. "Oh, it's good to see you all getting along," he said, his tone light. "Well, I think you all know who this is, right?"
Luna and Esmael exchanged a glance, though neither spoke. Morvane's brow furrowed as he looked at the stranger. He was sure he had seen him before, but the memory was distant and clouded.
"What's going on?" Morvane finally asked, his voice tinged with confusion. "Why is he here?"
Medas stepped forward, his gaze shifting between the group. "Ah, yes, you're all probably wondering about that." He gestured to the man in crimson. "This is Crimson, the ruler of Kegaltan. And, he'll be serving as your training master, Morvane."
Morvane's eyes widened. "Training master? For what?"
Medas gave him a reassuring smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Well, we need to make you stronger. Physically, mentally, and in terms of control. If you're going to face more spirits and entities like the ones you've encountered already, you need to be able to fight back, to defend yourself. This power inside you might be dangerous, but it's only as dangerous as you are unprepared."
Morvane hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. Training to fight? He didn't know the first thing about defending himself against ghosts and spirits, let alone physical combat. What could he even do against something he couldn't touch, something that wasn't entirely real?
Crimson's cold eyes met his, a faint smirk on his lips. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you're ready," he said, his voice low and firm.
"You'll learn quickly, but it won't be easy."
Morvane felt a shiver run down his spine. The way Crimson spoke, with such authority, left no room for doubt that this training would push him to his limits. He wasn't sure he was ready for that.
Luna, sensing Morvane's unease, stepped forward, her expression soft but determined. "You don't have to do this alone, Morvane," she said, offering a reassuring smile. "We'll support you. Right, Esmael?"
Esmael nodded, his usual seriousness tempered by a flicker of concern. "We're in this together. But you need to be prepared. We don't know what else might come."
Morvane took a deep breath, looking from his friends to Crimson, and then finally to Medas. "Okay," he said, though doubt lingered in his voice. "If it's really necessary… I'll do it. I'll train. But I need to know what I'm up against. What exactly am I going to face?"
Medas looked at him seriously, as if weighing his words carefully. "Spirits, ghosts, demons… the entities that roam the world and feed on the weak. You'll encounter them as you grow stronger. And Morvane…"
He hesitated for a moment, a shadow passing over his face. "Some of them may come for you specifically. The curse—the gift—you carry makes you a target for the supernatural."
Morvane's stomach churned at the thought, but he steeled himself. He had no choice. If he didn't face this power and learn to control it, he might become something dangerous—something he couldn't stop.
"Alright," Morvane said, his voice steady despite the anxiety gnawing at him. "Let's begin."
Luna and Esmael, sensing that Morvane wasn't sure about all of this, stepped forward as well.
"We're not just going to sit back and watch, you know," Luna said with a teasing smile, though her eyes were serious. "If you're going to train, we'll train with you."
Esmael gave a curt nod. "We're in this together. It's only right we train alongside you."
Crimson watched them for a moment, then turned to Medas, who gave a slight nod of approval. "Very well. If they wish to train, they can. But they must keep up."
The training began immediately, with Crimson handing out wooden training swords. The sounds of wood clashing and the rhythm of their movements filled the room as they practiced basic sword techniques. Morvane felt the weight of the stick in his hand and tried to imitate the moves Crimson showed them. His body moved instinctively, almost as if the movements were second nature.
As they continued, Crimson observed Morvane closely, his sharp eyes tracking every movement. After a while, he smirked, clearly impressed. "Not bad," he said. "You're a fast learner, Morvane."
He turned to a nearby guard, who was standing by, watching the training. "You. Come here."
The guard stepped forward, saluting. "Yes, Your Majesty?"
"Why don't you spar with Morvane?" Crimson suggested. "Let's see how he does against a trained fighter."
Morvane's eyes widened. "Wait, but he's a trained guard! I'm just—"
"Just do it," Crimson interrupted with a firm tone. "I won't let him kill you, and besides, this is just training. The swords are made of wood."
Morvane hesitated but nodded reluctantly. He didn't want to appear weak in front of his friends, but facing an experienced guard made him nervous. The guard looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but there was no hint of mockery in his stance. He was serious, prepared to test Morvane.
The spar began.
The guard moved swiftly, his wooden sword cutting through the air with practiced ease. Morvane tried to keep up, his hands gripping the wooden stick tighter as he deflected blows and dodged. His heart raced as the guard's strikes came faster and faster. Morvane had no real experience with fighting, but his body seemed to adapt quickly to the rhythm. He ducked under a swipe and managed to land a blow to the guard's side, though it was light and didn't cause much damage.
Crimson watched closely, his arms folded. "You're quick," he muttered under his breath. "But you'll need to do more than dodge if you want to win."
Morvane nodded to himself, focusing on the guard's movements. The fight felt like a blur, with every move coming out of instinct. He was starting to feel a rhythm—something deeper inside him was guiding his actions. As the guard swung his stick for another strike, Morvane sidestepped and, with remarkable agility, tapped the guard's back.
The guard stumbled forward, momentarily off balance. Taking advantage of the opening, Morvane moved quickly, cornering the guard and landing a decisive strike to his side.
The room fell silent for a moment. The guard straightened up and looked at Morvane with a mix of surprise and admiration. Crimson, on the other hand, broke into a wide grin.
"Impressive," Crimson said, nodding in approval. "You've got more than just speed. That was agility, precision. You moved like you've been doing this for years." He turned to the guard. "You were bested by a beginner."
The guard gave a respectful bow to Morvane. "I'm impressed, young master. You're a natural."
Morvane, breathing heavily, smiled faintly, though the reality of what he had just done was starting to sink in. He wasn't sure how he had pulled it off—he had never trained in combat before, and yet his body seemed to know what to do instinctively.
Luna and Esmael cheered from the sidelines, grinning widely at his success.
"See? We knew you could do it!" Luna said.
Esmael clapped him on the back. "You're a natural, Morvane."
Crimson nodded thoughtfully. "You're not like most people. The power inside you—it's strange, but there's potential. You'll be a force to reckon with if you keep up this pace."
Morvane wasn't sure if he could fully grasp everything that had just happened, but one thing was clear—his training had only just begun, and he was about to face challenges that would push him further than he had ever imagined.