Dawn came too fast.
One moment I was still staring at the moon, tangled in thoughts I couldn't unravel, and the next I was being shaken awake by a servant who looked terrified just to touch me.
"Y-Young Master," she stammered, "Sir Aldric awaits."
I blinked, groaned, then sat up.
Even in another world, mornings were the enemy.
The estate was still cloaked in shadows as I dressed. My body moved like it remembered how things were supposed to go—slipping on the black training tunic they'd laid out, tying the belt, running fingers through messy, dirty blonde hair until it at least looked intentional.
No armor. No weapons.
Just me, golden eyes still heavy with sleep, walking out into the courtyard like a lamb to a lesson.
Sir Aldric stood where I'd last seen him—arms crossed, eyes narrowed, his presence hard as stone. The courtyard around us was empty except for racks of training blades, dull-edged but still heavy enough to bruise. The air was cold, but not the kind that bit. It was the kind that made you alert.
"On time," he said, like it surprised him. "Good. Let's begin."
He didn't ask if I'd slept well. Didn't offer me breakfast. No warm-up, no kindness.
Just a wooden sword shoved into my hands.
"Hold it."
I did.
"Wrong."
He moved before I could react, swatting my wrist with a practice cane. It stung. I winced.
"Again."
I gritted my teeth and fixed my grip. He moved again, this time repositioning my shoulders.
"Your stance is garbage," he said. "Your grip is worse. You've got noble hands. Soft. That won't last."
I didn't answer. My pride wouldn't let me.
"Swing."
I swung.
The air barely moved.
"Again."
I swung harder. The blade cut through the air, but crookedly.
He stepped in, grabbed my elbow, twisted it slightly. "You're not slashing. You're swatting. Do it like you mean it. Like you're trying to kill someone."
I stared at the wooden blade in my hand.
It felt dead. Hollow.
Back on Earth, when I spoke a poem into being, my weapon was my voice. Every verse, every rhyme, held weight. Power. Meaning. The world bent around my rhythm.
But here, this piece of wood didn't care about my words. It wouldn't sing for me. It wouldn't answer.
It was just a tool.
And I hated it.
"Again," Aldric barked.
I swung.
Again and again.
By the tenth time, my arms were sore. By the fifteenth, my grip started to slip. By the twentieth, I felt like throwing the sword down and screaming.
But I didn't.
I kept going.
Because pain was familiar. And so was being underestimated.
"You're not terrible," Aldric admitted after an hour. "You're worse than terrible. But you listen. That's something."
"Thanks," I muttered.
"I wasn't complimenting you."
He walked away, motioning for me to follow. I did, dragging my feet just a little.
He led me to a long row of training dummies. Some were wooden, others armored, and a few even glowed faintly with defensive enchantments.
"You'll start here tomorrow," he said. "But for now—rest."
I wanted to protest. Wanted to push harder. But the truth was, my arms were already trembling. My palms were red and raw. I could barely hold the blade.
So I nodded.
And left.
—
Breakfast was waiting for me by the time I returned to my room.
Sliced fruit. Steamed bread. A small jar of honey. Tea, still warm.
I stared at it for a moment, then sank into the velvet chair by the table and ate in silence.
It felt wrong.
Not the food. Not the silence.
The comfort.
Even now, with my body aching from training, I was still surrounded by luxury. Silk curtains. Carved oak furniture. Paintings that moved slightly when you weren't looking.
I should've felt grateful.
But all I felt was out of place.
Like a ghost pretending to be alive.
Halfway through breakfast, there was another knock.
"Enter," I said, mouth still full.
The door opened, and to my surprise, it wasn't a servant.
It was a girl.
About my age. Maybe a little younger. She had silver-blonde hair tied back in a low braid and eyes like ice—pale blue, almost white. She wore a crisp uniform, not quite noble, not quite servant.
She walked in without hesitation, stopped in front of the table, and gave a formal bow.
"I am Lysette," she said. "I've been assigned as your personal attendant."
I blinked.
"My what?"
"Your attendant. It was Lady Ravianne's decision. I will assist you with lessons, schedule, attire, and correspondence."
"I don't get letters."
"You will."
There was a quiet confidence to her. Not arrogance. Just… assurance. She didn't wait for approval. Didn't flinch under my gaze.
She placed a folded piece of parchment on the table.
"Your first formal lesson is tomorrow. History, etiquette, and elemental theory."
I raised an eyebrow. "Elemental theory?"
"This world runs on magic. You will be expected to understand how and why. Even if you don't have any affinity, you must at least know how not to die."
Charming.
"And you'll be there for all of it?"
"Of course."
"Even the sword training?"
She hesitated. "That's not my domain. But if requested, yes."
I leaned back, studied her. "Why you?"
Her expression didn't change. "I scored highest in the aptitude trials. I'm loyal to House Everdusk. And I do not ask unnecessary questions."
I liked her immediately.
"Fine," I said. "You're hired."
She blinked. "I was already hired."
I smirked. "You're funny."
"No. I'm efficient."
Even better.
She handed me another scroll, this one tied with red string.
"Lady Ravianne requests your presence in the solar chamber at dusk. She says it's time to discuss your inheritance."
I frowned. "Inheritance?"
"She wouldn't elaborate."
Great.
Cryptic nobles and world-breaking secrets. Exactly what I needed.
—
Dusk fell fast, and with Lysette leading the way, I found myself in a chamber bathed in warm orange light. Stained-glass windows painted the floor in colors too beautiful to describe. At the center sat Ravianne, sipping wine from a glass shaped like a blooming flower.
She didn't look up when I entered.
"Sit," she said.
I did.
"You're adapting quickly," she said. "Aldric's already filed his first report."
"Let me guess," I said, "I'm hopeless."
She chuckled. "He said you have fire. And that you swing a sword like someone who's angry at the air."
"Not inaccurate."
She swirled her wine, then set it down.
"There's something you need to see."
She reached beneath the table, pulled out a box sealed with black wax.
"Your mother's," she said.
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"You never knew her. She died the day you were born. My sister. She was… complicated. And powerful."
I took the box with shaking hands. Opened it slowly.
Inside was a pendant.
A crystal, dark gold in color, shaped like a teardrop suspended from a silver chain. It pulsed faintly, like it had a heartbeat.
"What is this?"
"Legacy," Ravianne said. "And possibly… your awakening."
"My what?"
She stood, walked behind me, and placed her hands on my shoulders.
"There are bloodlines in this world that go deeper than magic. Older than gods. Your mother's was one of them. I don't know what lies inside you. But soon, something will awaken. When it does, you'll have to choose what kind of monster you want to be."
I stared down at the pendant.
It thrummed in my hand like a whisper just below hearing.
And suddenly, I didn't feel so powerless anymore.