01 – The Returning Voice
The voice came again tonight.
Not as a soft whisper, but as a resonance in her mind deep, firm, and impossible to ignore. As if someone was calling her from a fractured fold of time long collapsed.
Elaraen ...
Elaniel Zenona jolted awake, her forehead damp with sweat, breath ragged. The cold and silent dorm room of Aethra Sanctum Academy greeted her with the soft blue glow from the night crystal on the wall. She stared at the stone ceiling above her narrow bed. Once again, the voice had pulled her from a dream she could not remember.
Elaraen. A name that wasn't hers, at least not now. But why did her left chest tighten every time that voice returned?
She sat up, lowering her feet to the cold floor. Night air slipped through the window crack, carrying the scent of damp soil and the distant mist of Valethar Forest. Her hands trembled. She wasn't afraid, just … empty. As if she had just left someone who meant everything, yet couldn't recall their face.
It had been three weeks since she arrived at Aethra. Since day one, the school felt... different. Not just because of its towering buildings among the mountain fog, or its five towers named in ancient Latin: Memoria, Vox, Novem, Abyssus, and Umbra. But because this place called to something within her something long asleep.
---
Morning came quickly, and training at the Aetherium Field demanded more than just strength. Aethra's students were trained to fight physically and spiritually, to face their inner shadows, and discover the soul's reflection from past lives.
Elaniel stood in the middle of the stone arena, her body firm though her mind still foggy. She wasn't the type to falter easily, even when haunted by strange dreams.
"Zenona!" barked Instructor Silvair sharply. "Did you leave your mind in bed?"
"No, Sir." she replied, quick and flat.
Standing before her was a taller male student, with pitch-black eyes and a cold demeanor not easily pierced, Jasper Zephyr.
The boy was known to be silent, yet no instructor underestimated him. Every movement was calculated. He wasn't the flashy kind of fighter; he was the one who observed in silence, waiting for the right moment to act.
Since day one, Elaniel had noticed one thing: Jasper was always nearby. Not conspicuously. Not intruding. But somehow, always close enough to observe, to… protect?
"Begin!" shouted Silvair.
Elaniel leaped forward, her body agile and swift. She launched a quick attack, aiming at Jasper's right side. But as always, he evaded with ease. He seemed to know Elaniel's move before she made it.
Not a single strike landed. But what disturbed Elaniel wasn't her failure, it was the fact that Jasper never truly struck back.
As if he… was holding back.
---
In the middle of the clash, their hands touched.
And suddenly, a burst of blue light exploded from that contact.
The world around vanished. In an instant, Elaniel saw flashes: a battlefield in fog, burning banners, a sky stained with blood. And there, amid the chaos, she stood wearing black armor, a phoenix emblem blazing on her chest.
Elaraen.
And Jasper stood at her side, holding a sword of light.
They were fighting together.
---
The vision vanished as quickly as it came. Elaniel stumbled, nearly falling if not for Jasper catching her arm. She looked at him—his black eyes not surprised, not confused.
As if he too… had seen it.
"What did you see?" Jasper whispered, almost toneless.
"None of your business," Elaniel snapped, though her heart still trembled.
They stared at each other in silence. Like two strangers bound by something unexplainable. Not a normal feeling. But something that transcended lifetimes.
---
Night fell, and Elaniel slipped into the Lower Library. She searched through books on soul resonance, ancient symbols, and dimensional wars. But found nothing. The only clue was the symbol from her dreams: two overlapping circles, with a fine crack at the center.
She sketched it in her notes.
"You're drawing that again," said a calm voice behind her.
Jasper.
Elaniel flipped the page quickly. "Are you following me?"
"I don't need to follow you," Jasper replied lightly. "I'm just... making sure you're not alone in a place like this."
Elaniel held her breath. "You think I'm weak?"
"No," said Jasper, looking straight at her. "I think... you're alone too often."
Silence crept between them. Elaniel looked away, but her heart stirred. She had never needed anyone. Never allowed anyone in. But why... did Jasper's voice pierce the wall she had built all this time?
"You don't believe in the past, do you?" Jasper asked softly.
"I believe in what I can see and control," Elaniel answered shortly.
"But you've already seen it." Jasper stepped closer. "And... so have I."
Their eyes met. For a moment, the world felt quieter than usual.
And strangely… more familiar.
---
That night, the voice returned.
But this time, it did not come through war.
It came as wound.
Elaniel saw a young man, his body drenched in blood, kneeling on the ground. His eyes looked at Elaniel—not with anger, but with calm affection.
"Elaraen … don't open that gate alone…"
Then everything faded, like shadows eroded by time.
---
Elaniel woke up.
Not with tears. But with a suffocating feeling she couldn't explain. She looked at her hand. On the back of her left hand, faintly, the cracked circle symbol appeared before vanishing again.
She put on her training jacket and opened her door.
The corridor was dark. But at the far end, the figure stood, leaning against the stone wall, head slightly bowed.
Jasper.
He looked at Elaniel from afar. Said nothing. But Elaniel knew.
He was there. Watching.
And somehow… that was enough to make Elaniel return to her room. She didn't need answers tonight.
What she needed… was just to know that someone, in this world, would not disappear so easily.
---
Inside her room, she stood before the old mirror. Her short black hair was tousled, her golden eyes filled with shadows that couldn't be erased. She stared at herself for a long time. Her gaze was sharp, as always. But there was a trace of weariness in the way she stood.
"If you really are Elaraen …" she whispered softly.
"…then who am I now?"
And for the first time, she asked not to resist fate.
But because she had begun to remember.
And beyond all the doubts, beyond all the unanswered silence, one truth echoed louder than any other voice:
She was not alone.
---