Morning came in pieces.
Haruma woke to the muffled crackling of kindling and the scent of something hot — bread, perhaps? His body was stiff, sore in ways he hadn't fully registered the night before.
He was home, he thought for a moment.
Then he opened his eyes and spotted the dark wooden walls, the rough stone hearth, the dim interior of a cabin that wasn't his.
The heaviness of reality settled on his chest.
He was still here. In a universe that didn't belong to him.
His chair, where he had fallen asleep, creaked as he moved. Elya was nowhere in sight.
Haruma exhaled.
His mind was a jumble of facts, questions and encroaching fear. The mention of magic, the Church, the Arcanum, whatever 'Abyssal Sorcery' even was in his mind, but he knew better than to pry for answers just yet.
Elya didn't strike him as the kind of person who would put up with pointless questions.
Rather than sitting on his thumbs, he took action.
Cleaning & Exploring
Stretching his sore limbs, Haruma stood and surveyed the scene. The cabin was plain, but cozy.
Shelves were crammed with books, weapons and small trinkets he didn't recognize. On the table by the hearth sat half a loaf of bread and a wooden cup of something that smelled like tea.
It was remarkably clean — apart from one detail.
The floors were caked with dried mud and there was a heap of dusty blankets in the corner.
Haruma sighed. He was not one to lounge about idly, so he took a rag nearby and began to wipe things down.
While he worked, he allowed his mind to drift.
The church of the First Light. The Arcanum. The Forbidden Magic.
Elya had told him only what she had wanted to tell him.
There had to be more.
…..
Once he had done what little cleaning he could do, Haruma stepped outside.
In the distance, the Blackwood loomed; even in the day the trees twisted into unsettling shapes. The immediate surroundings of the cabin were clear aside from a small stable, a stream and a dirt path leading out further.
The wind was chilly, but the sunshine was warm.
For the first time since he had opened his eyes in this world, Haruma allowed himself to breathe.
Then—voices.
They were far away, like from beyond the path.
Haruma narrowed his eyes. There were people nearby.
He paused for a split second.
Then, curiosity won.
The voices grew clearer as Haruma made his way down the path.
They were clad in simple, woven clothing and each man carried a wooden crate. Traders, maybe? Hunters?
He slowed his feet, listening.
"I'm telling you, the Church is moving more priests to the border towns."
"And that means what? They're constantly reprimanding others. What's different now?"
"It's not just sermons. They're taking the Templar with them."
Haruma frowned. Templar?
The other man cursed under his breath. "You serious?"
"Dead serious. You believe the Church sends Templar knights purely to preach? No. Something's got them nervous."
Haruma tensed. Was the Church mobilizing soldiers?
Before he could listen any more, a voice rang out—
"You're too obvious, fool."
Haruma turned.
Elya stood a few feet behind him, arms crossed.
He had not even heard her come up.
"Eavesdropping?" she asked, unimpressed.
Haruma sighed. "It's not eavesdropping if they are in public talking."
"That's exactly what eavesdropping is."
He exhaled. "I wanted to learn more about this world."
Elya stared at him for a moment, then laughed derisively.
"Ooh, you really are a lost child, aren't you?"
"I'm not a child."
"You act like one."
Haruma grimaced, but her tone was not unkind.
If anything, it was mildly amused.
"You clean the cabin," she said, redirecting.
"Yeah. It was dirty."
"Hmph."
That was all she said but he knew she wasn't annoyed.
Maybe she even enjoyed it.
But that was not the kind of thing she said directly.
"You want to learn more about the world?" Elya said after a moment.
Haruma nodded.
She turned, beckoning him to follow.
Take a step back into the cabin, where she walked over to one of the bookshelves and pulled a thick, leather-bound tome off the second shelf.
She placed it on the table heavily with a thud.
"Read."
Haruma stared at the book. There was no title on the cover, but an embossed symbol — a circle of stylized, interwoven patterns.
"What is it?" he asked.
"A novice's history of Verra. If you want answers, start there. I'm too busy answering questions to answer things you can figure out for yourself."
Haruma raised an eyebrow. "You certainly have a way with words."
"And you have a knack for making a mess of things."
He had no comeback for that.
With a sigh, he sat and opened the book.
The pages were dense with information, laden with strange maps, diagrams and symbols.
The first passage read:
THE WORLD OF THE DAWN, 1"In the beginning, the Goddess molded the worlds, separating the heavens from the abyss. From on high came the angels and from below, the demons. Humanity came into being between them, abandoned to shape its own fate."
He frowned and turned to the next page. The script was dense, the ink a little faded with age, but the contents were clear — this was not one single world.
There were multiple realms.
"The Mortal Realm, where man walks on brittle ground. This is the Celestial Realm where the angels watch all from the heavens above. And into the Abyss, where the fallen are bound."
Haruma hesitated, drumming his fingers across the table.
The angels and demons exist?
At least people think they do. He had no way to know how much of this was historic fact and how much was religious belief.
Still, this world had magic. And if there was magic, what else was real?
He turned to a different section.
"Magic was initially bestowed upon mankind by the Wells of Creation. The Arcanum was created to seek out these Wells, to understand how to harness the magic that issued from them into a force that could be comprehended and controlled."
His grip on the sheets tightened just a little.
The Arcanum.
The order of magic users that Elya was talking about.
Thus magic was not a chance thing. It was studied, managed, even administered.
"Magic was given to man before his shadow."
Did that mean one wasn't born with it?
Before he could read on, a sudden blade of pain stabbed through his skull.
Haruma rubbed his temple, wincing.
But his eyes went blurry for a moment. The fire's warmth left. The book he was holding seemed to escape—
—In the dark, steel flashed. A blade sliced along his side, pain burning hot and deep.
—Blood sprayed across dirt. A body collapsed. His body.
—A voice, distant and distorted: "He's down!"
Haruma sucked in air, his breathing labored.
The cabin still surrounded him. The fire still burned. His hands remained clutching the book.
But for a moment — just a moment — he had felt it.
The pain. The blood. The fall.
And it wasn't his.
His ribs ached dully, but he knew — this injury wasn't his.
Haruma clenched his jaw.
"What the hell was that?"
He took his seat, inhaling deep and exhaling slow, so as to collect his thoughts.
That wasn't a memory.
Or at least, it wasn't how he remembered it.
He looked down at his side, where the pain was still fresh. A stab wound. He had felt it as clear as day — but it was just space. No fresh wound, no bleeding. Only the dull ache that wouldn't go away.
Then whose memory was it?
He exhaled. There was no answer. Not yet.
Haruma forced himself back to the book. Magic. It forced him to read more about magic."
He scanned the pages again, this time searching for anything that could help him.
"Not all men have magic in them. It takes from the Arcane Veil, the thread that binds all things. "Only those to whom this Veil has become second nature can command it."
Haruma frowned.
"Attuned?"
He leafed through the book, skimming various passages.
"Some are born with affinity. The rest must train, study and pound against the walls of reality until they hear the call of the Veil."
So magic had to be awakened?
If that were the case then—could he stir it?
Somehow, the thought took lodgings in his mind, heavy with curiosity and apprehension.
"The Arcane Veil, the fabric that binds all things…
His headache was gone but his thoughts were still tangled.
…..
The door creaked open.
As Elya stepped inside, her cloak dusted with dirt, Haruma looked up.
She hardly looked at him before crossing to the hearth and placing something down — a wrapped bundle, with a faint smell of herbs and dried meat.
"You continue reading," she said.
"You told me to."
She huffed, taking a knife and slicing the bundle open.
"I told you to learn. Not to do your head in over it."
Haruma hesitated. "Elya."
She gave him a look and raised an eyebrow.
"How does a person learn how to do magic?"
Elya paused mid-cut.
She didn't respond right away.
Instead, she put the knife down, wiped her hands on her apron and rested against the table.
"That depends," she said. "Why do you ask?"
Haruma hesitated. He could still feel the fading sting of the stab wound, the phantom ache of a fight he hadn't survived.
But he couldn't explain that. Not yet.
"Curiosity."
Elya's gaze was sharp. She didn't believe him.
But after a long pause, she eventually responded.
"Magic's not something you just learn." It isn't a skill. It's a force. And it follows laws."
Haruma nodded slowly. This corresponded with what he was reading.
"There are different kinds of magic," she continued, "but before you even learn anything, you must understand one thing —"
Her expression became serious.
"Magic always has a cost."
Haruma frowned.
"A cost?"
"There is nothing for free in the world, Haruma." Elya crossed her arms. "You want to wield the Veil? You have to offer something in exchange."
"Like what?"
"It depends on the magic. Some spells require energy, some require blood, some require sanity. And the strongest ones?" She narrowed her eyes. "They require more than you're willing to provide."
Haruma swallowed. This wasn't just a tool.
This was something deeper. Something dangerous.
"Then, is that the reason the Church decides what's forbidden? " he asked.
Elya's expression flickered.
"Part of it."
That was all she gave him. No elaboration.
Haruma released a breath and leaned back.
Magic was regulated, taught and expensive.
And now, for some reason, he had memories that were not his.
Who the hell had he become?