Chapter 23: Mind Puzzles

The mana crystals in the walls pulsed faintly, casting a soft glow across the training room. Elaris sat across from me again, her hands resting lightly on her knees, her breathing slow and deliberate. But something in her eyes was different now—uncertain, hesitant.

She had wiped away the tears from earlier, but I could still see the shimmer of them clinging to her lashes. The image of her watching my worst memory unfold… it hadn’t left either of us yet.

“I want to try again,” she said quietly.

I nodded and adjusted my position, settling cross-legged in front of her. “You sure?”

Her eyes lowered. “I… I think so.”

Her hand reached up, slower this time, and hovered just beside my head. But it didn’t touch.

She closed her eyes, took a breath—

—and nothing happened.

No flicker of mana.

No warmth.

No pull.

Just silence.

She opened her eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. “It’s not working…”

“You didn’t cast it.”

“I did. I tried. I said the spell in my head.”

“Then maybe…” I leaned in slightly, keeping my tone calm. “Maybe it’s not just the spell.”

She didn’t respond at first.

Her hand lowered back to her lap, fingers curling into fists. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “Scared of what I’ll see again. Of hurting you.”

I felt the air in my chest stall.

She was scared… for me.

That was new.

I exhaled slowly, then reached out, placing my hand lightly over hers. “Then don’t aim for pain.”

She looked up.

“Try focusing on something simple. A good memory.” I offered a faint smile. “Like the first time we met.”

She blinked. “In the library?”

“Yeah. You insulted my handwriting within five minutes.”

Her lips twitched, just a little. “Because it was bad.”

“You know,” I said, my voice softening, “back in the library… when you sat beside me and teased me about my handwriting… I think that’s when I started falling for you.”

Elaris turned toward me slowly. Her playful expression faded, replaced by something far more vulnerable.

“That was it for me too,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You looked so focused, so determined—even when you had no idea what you were doing. I thought… gods, I think I just found someone who sees me.”

“There. Picture that,” I said gently. “Think of the light in the library. The book you were holding. The way you wrinkled your nose when I said ‘Dire wolves are cool.’”

“I did not wrinkle my nose.”

“You totally did.”

We both laughed—quietly, but real.

Then she closed her eyes again.

“Memories’ Mirror.”

Her fingers touched my temple once more—still hesitant, but steadier.

This time, the mana bloomed softly between us.

And the air began to shift.

The mana crystals in the walls pulsed faintly, their soft hum barely audible over the beat of my own heart. Elaris sat across from me, her fingers trembling ever so slightly as she reached up, placing her hand gently against my temple again.

She whispered the incantation with care.

“Memories’ Mirror.”

The room tilted.

Colors drained.

And just like that, I was pulled back—not just in mind, but in body, heart, and breath.

Back to the last day of our first winter together—me and Rias.

The house was dark, colder than I remembered, and the last ember of our fire had long since died. The air smelled of ash, rot, and smoke. I looked over to Rias, huddled in the corner beneath pelts and scraps of cloth. Her face was thinner, paler. Her once-thick braids had been cut short weeks ago when the lice got bad. Her scar occasionally ached, but at least for now, she was doing well.

I stared at the plate beside her.

The last of the “special meat” was gone. Not a scrap left.

And with it… so was any warmth in my gut.

I pushed to my feet, fingers trembling as I tightened the belt around my coat. My sword—Father’s old blade—hung against my back, its weight familiar but not reassuring. I didn’t know what I was looking for out there. Only that if I didn’t find it… we’d die.

Snow crunched beneath my boots as I stepped out into the mountain air. The wind cut like razors, biting deep through my layers. I made my way through the ridge path slowly, scanning for anything—prints, droppings, broken branches.

And then I heard it.

A low growl.

I turned.

And saw it.

Standing just twenty feet ahead, hunched behind a snow-laced boulder, was a beast. Thick white fur blanketed its massive body, streaked with jagged black bolts like ink spilled down its spine. Its breath steamed in the frigid air. Its eyes locked onto mine—piercing, yellow, and full of hunger.

A Thunder Bear.

I’d read about them later, of course—D-rank, highly territorial, nearly impossible to kill without magic.

But I didn’t know that then.

All I knew was that I needed food.

And it was big enough to feed us for a week.

I drew the sword, every nerve in my body screaming to run.

It charged.

I barely dodged the first swipe, the snow exploding beneath us. I slashed at its flank, but the blade barely cut through the dense fur. It was like trying to cut leather with a spoon. I backed away, heart thundering, breath misting wildly.

It came again.

The second clash was worse.

Its paw caught my shoulder and spun me to the ground. Pain bloomed as sharp lines were carved across my back. I rolled away before it could pounce, shoving my sword up just in time.

The bear lunged.

And drove itself down onto the blade.

Its own weight did the damage, the steel punching through thick muscle—deep, but not fatal.

It roared in rage, blood spraying from its mouth as it thrashed.

I let go of the hilt, barely avoiding being crushed as I rolled free. The bear stumbled forward, the sword still lodged in its chest, spurting dark, steaming blood across the snow.

It got back up.

I cursed under my breath and scrambled toward the sword. The bear rose on two legs, towering over me like a monster carved from storm clouds and bone.

It swiped.

I ducked, heart hammering, and grabbed the sword’s hilt.

It wouldn’t budge.

“Come on—!”

Another swipe—I rolled.

Again, I yanked.

Nothing.

The third tug shifted it just an inch.

The bear roared and lunged.

I screamed and heaved one last time.

With a wet crack, the blade tore free.

The Thunder Bear froze mid-swipe.

Blood poured from its chest, steaming in the cold.

It stumbled.

One step.

Another.

Then crumpled into the snow, the weight shaking the earth around me.

Silence followed.

My breathing was ragged, every muscle trembling, and my skin was sliced and slick with blood—some of it was mine, while most of it wasn’t.

I’d won.

Barely.

And not because I was strong—but because I was desperate.

The training room’s light returned like a breath held too long—then gasped back into the world.

I blinked hard, chest heaving like I’d just run for miles. My shirt clung to my back, drenched in sweat, even though the room was cool and still. Every muscle in me was tight, like I’d just walked out of the fight all over again.

Elaris sat in front of me, her hand hovering in the air, unmoving—like she didn’t know what to do with it.

Her face was pale. Tear-streaked. Lips trembling.

“I—I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Arthur, I didn’t mean to go that far. I was trying to stop myself—I swear—”

I lifted a hand, slow and steady, and gently rested it on hers.

“It’s okay,” I said quietly, though my voice came out rough. “I just… wasn’t ready for that one.”

Elaris’s eyes widened. “You were terrified.” Her breath hitched. “I felt it. The weight of it. You thought you were going to die.”

I nodded faintly. “Because I was.”

That moment—the cold, the blood, the pressure of the bear pinning me—it hadn’t just played in front of me. It reached for me. Dragged claws across my spine and squeezed the air from my lungs.

“I’ve had dreams about that fight,” I admitted, voice low. “But seeing it like that—feeling it again… it was like being trapped under ice. No way out.”

She moved closer, slowly, like she wasn’t sure I’d let her—but I didn’t move away.

Her hands found mine again—this time gripping tighter, grounding me in the now.

“I keep messing this up,” she choked. “First the cellar… now this. I’m not trying to make you relive your nightmares.”

“You didn’t mess up,” I said, shaking my head. “This is Memory Magic. It’s not supposed to be easy.” I looked her in the eyes. “You saw what I lived through. And I’m still here. That has to count for something.”

Elaris looked at me like her heart had cracked in two. “You were just a kid. No magic. No help. Just you and your sister… and a beast like that.”

“And I survived it,” I said, more firmly this time. “So don’t cry for me, Elaris. Just stand with me. That’s all I want.”

She stared at me for a long moment—then pulled me into a tight, trembling hug.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered again. “But I’m not letting you face memories like that alone anymore.”

A warm feeling rushed over me, washing away the fear that once clung to me.

A warm feeling rushed over me, washing away the fear that once clung to me.

We stayed like that for a little while, just holding on to the silence between us. The soft hum of mana crystals filled the training room, but even their light seemed distant compared to the warmth of her arms around me.

Eventually, she pulled back, her hand lingering on mine.

“Come on,” she said gently, her voice steadier now. “Let’s take a break before we fry our brains.”

“Agreed,” I breathed.

We left the training room, steps echoing softly through the corridor as we made our way back toward the heart of the Academy. The air outside was crisp with the hint of evening, the sky painted in hues of lavender and deepening gold. Sköll trotted silently beside us, his head low but eyes alert, as if sensing the emotional weight hanging between us.

When we entered the library, the familiar scent of parchment and ink grounded me. Lanterns floated lazily overhead, casting warm, amber light across the rows of shelves.

To my surprise, we weren’t alone.

At one of the long reading tables sat Seraphine, Marza, and Rias, deep in a pile of books. Geri rested her head on the table, tail thumping lazily as she noticed Sköll approach. The two wolves greeted each other in a quiet, respectful way—no growls, just understanding.

Marza was reading aloud in a slow, careful voice. “And it says here that floating island beasts tend to travel to different islands depending on the season—hey, you listening?”

“I’m blind, not deaf,” Rias snarked with a grin. “Keep going.”

Seraphine looked up and noticed us. “Took you two long enough,” she teased, then nodded toward the books. “We’re trying to get ahead on monster behavior guides. Thought it might help for survival training later.”

Elaris perked up. “That’s actually smart. Mind if we join?”

“Pull up a chair,” Marza said.

I slipped into a spot across from Rias and began thumbing through one of the guides they weren’t using. Elaris sat beside me, her shoulder brushing mine in a way that grounded me more than she probably realized.

The book’s leather cover creaked faintly as I opened it. Diagrams, notes, and hand-drawn sketches filled the pages—descriptions of monsters, territories, and behavior patterns. I flipped slowly at first, scanning for anything relevant.

Then I saw it.

A page titled: Cryall – Behavior Patterns & Migration

My heart skipped.

I leaned in, reading the passage.

“Though Cryall are often seen alone or in bonded pairs, a peculiar phenomenon has been documented in the Deadman’s Plains. Here, Cryall gather in coordinated packs of up to eight. Their grouping behavior in this region is believed to be related to hunting larger prey and navigating the harsh conditions of the plains. This behavior is rare elsewhere in the world.”

A chill crawled up my spine.

That line—it echoed something I’d heard before. A muttered line my grandfather said.

“Cryall monsters don’t group together without reason. The only place they exist in numbers is the Deadman’s Plains west of Ikol.”

My grandfather’s voice rang faintly in the back of my mind.

My eyes narrowed. That day in the village—there had been more than twenty of them.

Was it really just bad luck?

Or…

Had they been driven? Directed?

I closed the book slowly, the weight of the thought heavier than the tome itself.

Maybe the attack on our village wasn’t a coincidence.

And if that was true… then someone—or something—had set it in motion.

Beside me, Elaris glanced up. “You okay?”

I didn’t answer right away.

I just stared at the closed book, a knot tightening in my chest.

The pieces were starting to form a picture. I just didn’t know what it meant yet.

But I was going to find out.

No matter what.