Morning light spilled over the village roofs, painting the fields in a soft gold haze. Smoke curled lazily from chimneys, mingling with the fragrance of baking bread and tilled soil. It should have felt ordinary, mundane and maybe it was. Except every time I inhaled, the molecules whispered their names to me, alive and restless in my lungs.
Oxygen, Hydrogen, Nitrogen, carbon dioxide and traces of argon, neon, helium, methane and krypton… then there were other elements unknown and unnamed.
Every element, a call I had to ignore.
But life had shifted since the knights left. Where once the villagers glared, spat, and whispered curses, now they approached with baskets of herbs, jugs of water, even requests with Luther as the strategist who had encouraged them.
"Teach her to use it in small things," he had said. "So she does not break the world when she sneezes."
And so, I found myself learning to harness the unbearable flood of power not in battles, but in my daily tasks and chores.
"More gently, Eriden," Walren scolded as I bent over a cracked jug. "We need it fixed, not shatter it more."
I bit the inside of my cheek, steadying my breath. The pottery in my hands hummed with molecules of sedimented clay, silica, iron traces… all the geo sung to me. With a careful exhale, I coaxed the molecules to weave again, knitting the crack line by line until the jug stood whole.
Walren's brows lifted, impressed. "Not bad." he said with a small smirk.
Elsewhere, I used air to carry grain dust from the floor, coaxed flames to heat ovens more evenly, purified water drawn from the well. Nothing dangerous. Just small uses, day after day, until the villagers began to mutter less about curses and more about blessings and new beginnings.
Children began to trail after me, giggling when I lit sparks in the air for them with the brightest magnesium I could find. Farmers thanked me when their tools gleamed again under my touch. Slowly, the fear unraveled, replaced by something warmer.
And I, Andrea Evelyn Dergus, scientist, Nobel Prize winner, murdered and reincarnated, began answering to another name.
Eriden.
At first it felt wrong, like wearing someone else's coat that was too tight at the shoulders with sleeves hanging past my fingers. But the more the villagers called me by that name, the more it settled on me. And when I looked in the mirror of the pond, violet eyes stared back, soft and alien, yet… mine.
I began to whisper it to myself in the quiet. Eriden.
Maybe Andy and Eriden could coexist. Maybe this was my second chance.
But peace never lasted.
At night, I dreamed of the knights and of Sir Algren's cold eyes. I saw images of shackles around my wrists as I was dragged before some unseen king. Sometimes I woke up choking, tasting iron… no not iron, blood… blood and smoke.
Luther noticed, of course. "Your fear is wise," he told me one evening as we sat outside, fireflies sparking in the dark as they majestically disappeared into the night. "The capital will not forget you. But until they come again, live. Learn. Grow stronger."
His words steadied me, but they didn't erase the dread that lived in my chest.
*
It was on the seventh day after the knights left Foot-Herb Village, that I met the slayer.
He came at dusk, a tall figure in worn leathers, and a greatsword strapped onto his back. His cloak smelled faintly of burnt steel and black sand, and his boots left a trail of mud across the square. His presence drew stares, but no one dared confront him.
I was fetching water when his shadow fell across me.
"You," he said, voice deep and gravelly. "You're the mage girl right?"
I straightened slowly, the bucket heavy in my hands. I glare at him with disgust, not saying a word to acknowledge him.
He smirked faintly. "Name's Vikra. Slayer. I hunt beasts, raid dungeons, and take contracts nobles are too soft to handle themselves." His gaze swept over me, assessing, measuring like a craftsman judging newly forged steel. "I need a mage. My last one burned out. Heard rumors of you, the gifted dua wielder mage. Figured I'd see if the whispers were true."
I stiffened and shook my head no.
Vikra shrugged. "Okay… if it's not something you want to do for easy earning then, I will move on. But you'll miss the chance. There's a dungeon near Veyra, crawling with corrupted things. Dangerous, but very profitable. A good place to test yourself… if you're not afraid."
His words dug under my skin. Afraid. Of course I was afraid. I am afraid of myself, of the capital, of Sylphi's games. But a dungeon? A dungeon could be something else. A chance to prove myself outside this fragile village. A chance to push these powers without every eye judging me. Plus the extra income will definitely help this village prosper a little more.
I placed the bucket down and walked towards Vikra until I was mere inches away from him. "My name is Eridan and I'll join you."
*
The dungeon stank of rot and damp earth.
Our torches flickered against walls slick with moss and slime. The air pressed heavy, thick with something unnatural. Every step crunched bones or brittle stone. My lungs ached, thrumming with the strange resonance of corrupted elements I didn't know how to name.
Vikra walked ahead with his greatsword resting on his shoulder, his every movement steady and practiced. He moved like someone who had stared death down too many times to flinch.
"Stay close," he muttered. "These things, they love the dark."
I obeyed even though fear buckled my knees from time to time. Shadows writhed at the edge of the torchlight. Shapes half-formed, twisted as their bodies leaked black vapor. They lunged towards us and Vikra's sword flashed, cleaving them into two whole separate parts with brutal precision.
But the deeper we went, the heavier the air grew. A hiss filled the tunnels, subtle at first, then overwhelming. My lungs stung.
"Gas," Vikra grunted. He quickly wet a corner of his cloak with water from his leather canister and then pulled his cloak over his mouth. "Don't breathe too deep." He coughed.
The warning came too late.
He staggered, coughing violently, sword clanging against stone as it slipped from his hand. His massive frame crumpled to the floor.
"Vikra!" I dropped to his side, panic flaring. His lips were blue, his eyes glassy. The gas clawed at my lungs too, dizzying, twisting the world sideways.
I put up my palms, "Troposphere" summoning the breathable gas to shield us in a dome.
I tried to hold my breath. I tried to control the molecules, but the poison invaded with vigor. My vision blurred, my limbs heavy.
And then the darkness wasn't just darkness. "Tropo…sphere… hold…" I demanded the shield to stay, to contain us and save us. Hoping that it'll still remain up to keep us alive. "...hold until I wake…" the words barely breathing out.
*
I stood in a place that wasn't the dungeon. Mist curled around me, pale and weightless, the air familiar and terrifying.
"Hello, Andrea." Her voice was soft, low and subtle.
I froze.
The girl before me was my reflection. The same long black hair, the same violet eyes. However, her smile was softer, her face more open. And her voice carried a tone that wasn't mine.
"Eriden…" I whispered.
She nodded. "The real one. Or what's left of me."
My stomach dropped. "So you're… alive in here?"
"Not alive." Her expression dimmed. "A shadow. A trace. You were… put into me. Or rather, into what was once me. And now our memories brush against each other like… tangled threads."
The mist shifted, showing flashes. Eriden laughing in the meadow. Eriden playing with children. Eriden's body crumpled as rough hands struck her down. Blood soaking the grass as someone sneered above her.
I staggered back, bile rising. "You… you were murdered."
Her violet eyes glowed faintly. "Yes. And Sylphi replaced me with you."
Rage burned hot in my veins. Sylphi's laughter echoed in my memory, that mocking wink. She had stolen Eriden's life as casually as brushing dust from a sleeve.
Eriden stepped closer, her face inches from mine. "So now you must choose. Walk the path Sylphi gave you as her pawn in her game… or seek retribution. Find the man who killed me."
The mist coiled tighter, suffocating, demanding an immediate answer.
"I…" My voice cracked. "I don't know. I don't know what I want yet."
Eriden tilted her head, a sad smile curving her lips. "Then you'll have to learn. Because both paths will demand blood."
The mist swallowed her as her words lingered like smoke.
I gasped awake, lungs burning and the reek of the dungeon slamming back into me. Vikra still laid unconscious beside me. The gas thickened, curling in greenish tendrils.
I inhaled sharply, focusing through the dizziness. Molecules screamed in my head. Chlorine, Nitrogen, Hydrogen, Sodium… the elements linking together forming its chemical compound. Chlorine and Ammonia. My mind breaks down the gas elements and reveals its content, Chloramines. With a desperate cry, I ripped them apart, scattering the bonds until the gas thinned, rapidly dissolved, dissipated.
The air rushed clean again. I collapsed beside Vikra, chest heaving, the echo of Eriden's voice still sharp in my mind.
Two paths. Sylphi's pawn.. or retribution.
I didn't know which was mine yet. But I knew one thing, this world would not let me ignore the choice for long.