With Whom Am I Speaking?

At the very end of everything, we’ll realize everything was just a coincidence.

Coming back to consciousness wasn’t a sudden jolt. It felt more like slowly rising from a dark, silent void. I could feel my body again, though I wasn’t sure what condition it was in. The first sensation was the rough texture of a wool blanket against my skin. The second was the air, thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and old smoke. My eyes opened to a ceiling made of dark, neatly arranged wooden logs.

Still here, then. What a shame.

I glanced around, my mind automatically cataloging everything I saw: rough wooden walls, a simple cot where I was lying, and a small, unlit fireplace in the corner. There were no sounds of battle, no smell of sulfur or blood. The atmosphere was calm, a stark contrast to the chaos before I passed out. For now, I was safe. A pointless state, but a stable one.

The door creaked softly, pulling my attention.

A small boy walked in. He moved with an intense, deliberate caution, his eyes glued to the wooden tray he was carrying. On it were a bowl and a cloth. He held the tray as if it contained the most precious, fragile thing in the world. A simple task, given so much weight. Illogical.

I just stayed quiet and watched. The boy, maybe seven or eight years old, navigated the small room and placed the tray on a little table near my cot with an audible sigh of relief.

Once his task was done, he finally looked up. His wide, startlingly pale white eyes met mine.

His entire body tensed. He let out a sharp, tiny gasp, clearly not expecting me to be awake. There was a moment of awkward silence. The mood between us felt stretched and thin, ready to snap.

I tried to speak, to get some basic information. "Where am I...?"

But before I could finish, the boy gasped again. He turned and scrambled out of the cabin, letting the door slam shut behind him. Fear. An inefficient response. But... noted.

A few moments later, the door opened again. This time, a familiar figure entered. Long purple hair, the same white eyes as the boy, and an aura of calm authority that seemed to fill the entire room. Asverta.

"Awake, I see," she said calmly. She picked up the bowl from the tray. "You were out for three days. The battle in Raven is over. The city... is recovering." She just stated the facts, her voice a smooth, even current with no emotional eddies.

She held the bowl out to me. "Drink. It's just water. You'll need it."

I took the bowl, the cool ceramic a solid, real thing in my hands. I drank. The body's needs are a constant, inconvenient truth.

"The boy you startled," Asverta continued, her eyes watching me with a detached curiosity. "His name is Mu. He's my apprentice. He'll be your senior, if you take my offer again." A faint smile played on her lips, a playful look that now felt like a carefully calculated tool. "He's a bit shy, especially around... people who wake up suddenly."

I handed the bowl back. "My location?" I asked. "And the others? Sylv?" I intentionally left out Bane's name. I had already processed that data. His file was closed.

"You're in my cabin, deep within the Whisperwood. Far enough from Raven so the... emotional residue there won't bother you," she said. "Sylv is safe, recovering in Raven. Bane... he didn't make it." Her voice remained flat.

Bane. The bulwark. A functional component, now removed from the system. A tactical loss. Nothing more. The thought was cold, precise. Einar's voice. I pushed it down.

"The Demon?" I asked.

"Dealt with," she answered, her gaze unwavering. "Though not entirely because of... your reckless efforts." Her smile returned, a hint of mockery in it this time. "You left quite a mess. A very loud, very chaotic mess. It took a combined effort to clean it up."

She paused, her expression turning serious. "Mu," she called towards the door. "Give us a moment."

A muffled "Yes, Master!" came from outside, and the door closed tightly.

Asverta sat on the edge of the cot, facing me directly. The air felt heavy, charged with unspoken questions.

"Now," she began, her voice lower, a soft murmur that demanded my full attention. "Tell me. With whom am I speaking right now?"

The question cut through the internal noise. Einar is silent. V is quiet. Nora is a distant echo. For the first time, the library is still. And I am... just me. I felt something shift inside, the broken pieces settling not into a perfect whole, but into a new, stable configuration. For the first time, a genuine—though small—smile appeared on my face. It felt strange, like using a muscle I never knew I had.

"How did you know?" I asked, my voice calm, filled with a real, detached curiosity.

"A hunch," she answered. "And the way your mana shifted in the battle. One moment cold and precise. The next, like a chaotic, joyful inferno. I have a feeling you're not one person, but many in one body."

I got up from the bed. My hand, without conscious thought, moved to my chest and then swept outwards in a graceful, theatrical bow. It wasn't a calculated gesture from a historical database. It just felt... right. An instinctual performance.

"A pleasure to meet you, Asverta," I said, my voice smooth, with a hint of amusement I hadn't intended. "You can call me Mori."

Asverta's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she recovered quickly. "Mori. A fitting name." She leaned in, her curiosity palpable. "There are others like you. We call them 'Soul Containers.' Rare. Powerful, yes, but often unstable. I knew one once. He could paint with fire and sorrow. He burned out before he was twenty."

Her casual anecdote was a warning, a piece of data delivered with practiced ease. She gestured vaguely towards me. "So, how many are in there?"

"Many," I replied simply. "But only three show up often."

Asverta nodded, understanding. "Their trouble comes from their own strength. Too many voices can tear a mind apart. But their potential... is immense. A wider understanding of mana, a deeper connection to its flow. But that raw power, without proper control, can be as dangerous to themselves as it is to their enemies."

"Mana, control, balance," I murmured. "A tricky equation."

"Exactly," Asverta agreed, her usual playful smile returning. She stood up. "Well, Mori, my offer still stands. I asked Einar before, but he was busy... exploding. Want to be my apprentice?"

She held out her hand, a simple invitation.

I looked at her hand, then her eyes. This was a path. A path to understanding, to control. A way to make sense of the chaos, both outside and in. I accepted in silence.

Asverta's face lit up. "Good! I knew you'd see it as the wise choice." She turned and opened the door.

"Mu! Come in! Your master has a new apprentice for you to meet! Your junior!"

Mu entered hesitantly, his wide eyes looking from Asverta to me. He wasn't just shy. He was looking at something he perceived as dangerous, something that had just been given a place in his home. His gaze held a universe of questions and a healthy dose of fear. He was a new variable I didn't yet understand, and it seemed the feeling was mutual.