Chapter 23: Beyond Sylvie's Harmony

I jolted awake, cold sweat clinging to my skin.
For a brief moment, the remnants of a dream clung to my mind—a fragmented memory filled with blood, betrayal, and suffocating darkness.

I exhaled slowly, forcing my breathing to steady. Dwelling on the past was pointless. What mattered was the present. My eyes scanned the room, unfamiliar yet serene, though my body felt heavy with the weight of healing wounds.

The last thing I remembered was the sharp pain of a mage’s fatal blow. My body was giving out. Darkness closing in. And then... black fog swirling around me.

A shadow.

I clenched my fist under the covers. Was that fog connected to that elusive figure—the one I had only sensed in fragmented visions before?

The faint creak of a chair snapped me from my thoughts. I turned my head to see Sylvie slumped at the desk, her head resting on her arms. Her green hair shimmered faintly in the dim light.

She must have stayed here all night.

"Sylvie," I called, my voice hoarse but steady.
She stirred, blinking groggily. Her gaze locked onto mine, wide with disbelief and relief.

"Aren!" she exclaimed, standing abruptly.

 "You're awake! How do you feel?"

"Alive," I said curtly. "What happened?"
Sylvie hesitated, biting her lip. "You were badly injured... Diluc brought you back. The High Priest healed most of your wounds, but you were unconscious."

"I see," I said, masking my unease. "What happened to the mage?"

Sylvie's expression darkened. "There was no sign of his body when Diluc arrived."

No trace at all? That didn’t make sense. He was right in front of me.

I kept my expression neutral. "How long was I unconscious?"

"Nearly a day."

I nodded. "Thank you for staying."

Sylvie blinked in surprise but quickly composed herself. "It was nothing. I am your maid ,This is the least I could do."

Her voice wavered slightly, but I let it pass.
The door creaked open, and Diluc entered, his gaze sharp.

"I'll leave you two to talk," Sylvie said before stepping out.

Diluc's brows furrowed. "You're tougher than I thought."

"I've had worse," I replied flatly. "What happened after I blacked out?"

Diluc's jaw clenched. "I found you bleeding out, but the air felt strange."

"Strange?"

He hesitated before saying, "I can't explain it, but something wasn't right."

I didn't press further. He clearly found it unsettling but didn't want to admit it.

"How did you get injured?" he asked.
"The mage landed a fatal blow. I lost consciousness after that," I answered without flinching.

Diluc's eyes narrowed. "And yet you're still alive."

"Luck, perhaps."

He grunted. "There's one more thing. Caelia had to leave due to an urgent matter, but she left a message."

"A message?"

Diluc nodded. "She asked me to thank you. She said your help was... invaluable."

I remained silent. Caelia wasn't the type to express gratitude easily. For her to say that, things must have been worse than I'd thought.

"Rest for now," Diluc said, his tone softening.

 "We'll need to talk more later."

I watched as he turned and left.

Staring at my faintly scarred hands, I knew something had changed during that battle.
There was more to that shadow...
But for now, I need to become stronger. Whatever was inside me—I had to control it before it consumed me.

-----
[After three days]

My body had healed completely in just three days—a remarkable recovery, no doubt thanks to the High Priest's unmatched skills. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else at play. Something unexplainable within me.

They told me to rest. I didn’t listen.

My mind was restless, plagued by fragments of unanswered questions—memories of the black fog and lingering doubts that refused to fade.

Walking through the grand halls of the temple, I noticed my father, Alaric Wolfhart, entering a private chamber with High Priest Malrik. Their serious expressions told me this was a conversation of great importance.
Curiosity sparked within me. I wasn’t one to ignore it.

Without hesitation, I followed them, stepping into the chamber just as Malrik gestured toward a seat. Father’s eyes flickered briefly with surprise at my arrival, but he quickly masked it with his usual composed demeanor.

"You're here as well," he remarked.
"I thought it might be a discussion worth attending," I replied calmly, taking a seat across from them.

Malrik’s gaze was sharp, but there was a faint smile on his lips. "It concerns you and Sylvie, after all."

At the mention of Sylvie, I kept my expression impassive, though my interest sharpened.

Malrik continued, "I was about to discuss the unprecedented phenomenon during the Mana Affinity Rite. Sylvie's display was extraordinary, and her supposed harmonic affinity was—"

"Fabricated," I cut in coldly.

Both Father and Malrik turned to me in surprise.

"During the rite, Sylvie’s display wasn’t harmonic affinity," I stated firmly. "That was merely a story crafted to divert attention."

Malrik's eyes gleamed with intrigue. "Impressive insight for someone your age," he acknowledged. "Indeed, that cover story was necessary to maintain order."

I met his gaze steadily. "Then what's the truth?"

Malrik leaned forward, his voice dropping to a grave tone. "That phenomenon typically only occurs when...................."

The air grew heavy, silence stretching taut. His words lingered on the edge, holding revelations that could change everything.

To be continued...