Nyssara
When I opened my eyes, the ceiling above me wasn't the sky. It was the same carved ceiling of my room, the one I'd stared at countless times on sleepless night.
I wasn't sure how I got there.
Then the sound of faint voices reached me two, maybe three outside the door. Cassian's was among them. I recognized his low, steady tone even when he tried to sound calm.
I turned my head slightly. A small tray sat beside my bed, the untouched cup of water already gathering dust. Someone had placed a blanket over me, though I couldn't remember being cold.
The door opened quietly. Cassian stepped in first, his hair disheveled, his eyes so much emotion for someone who pretended to be indifferent.
"You're awake," he said, relief hidden behind formality.
"So it seems," I replied, pushing myself up slowly. My body felt… normal. Not dizzy, not weak. Just fine.
He hesitated before sitting on the edge of the bed. "The doctor said it was fatigue. You've been pushing yourself lately."
Fatigue. That was convenient. A word to explain anything when there's no real answer.
"I'm fine," I murmured. "You can tell Father not to worry."
Cassian's expression flickered. "He isn't home. Left for the council meeting an hour ago."
That made it easier.
When he finally left, after too many warnings about rest and "no unnecessary strain", the silence that followed felt heavy, almost accusing. I lay there for a few more minutes, replaying everything in my mind.
The dream.
Names. Voices. The scent of rain and smoke. And him. Kael. The sound of that name still lingered somewhere in my chest like an echo that didn't belong to this time, this life.
I swung my legs off the bed.
Remembering Cassian's warnings, i wondered how his expression would be if he saw me. The thought brought a smile to my face.
So I listened to curiosity.
The corridors were quiet, the servants either cleaning the lower halls or pretending not to notice me. My father's study wasn't forbidden by rule, but by understanding. Everyone in this house knew it was not a place you entered without permission.
I stopped before the heavy oak door. The gold lock seal shimmered faintly with enchantment, a silent guardian against unwanted eyes. I touched it carefully, tracing the sigil with my fingertip. The magic pulsed once, as if testing my intent, then went still.
Perhaps it remembered I was his daughter. Or perhaps it was simply old magic that had forgotten how to warn.
Inside, the air smelled faintly of parchment, dust, and old secrets. The room was lined with shelves, history, war records, treaties, but I wasn't looking for those. Something caught my eyes, pulling me toward the far end where an old cabinet stood half open.
I crouched, pulling out one of the books stacked beneath. Most were logs, reports of past wars. But one caught my eye, no title, only the remnants of a crest on its spine. I ran my fingers over it and felt the faint imprint of the sigil. It wasn't our family's.
I opened it.
The pages were filled with neat handwriting, names of noble lines long erased. And then, near the back, something scribbled in the margin, two names written side by side in faded ink.
Kaelric. Nymera.
My heart slowed.
Not Kael. Not Mera. But close enough to make my throat tighten.
I stared at the names for a long moment. The handwriting didn't belong to my father , it was older, sharper, almost frantic. Whoever wrote it must have been in a hurry.
I closed the book and returned it exactly where I found it. The room seemed suddenly too quiet, too aware of my presence.
As I turned to leave, a flicker of movement caught my eye, a shadow across the far wall, gone before I could blink.
"Just the light," I whispered to myself.
Still, when I closed the study door behind me, I couldn't shake the feeling that something ancient had just recognized me.
I didn't know it then, but I'd just opened the first page of a buried truth.
Going out of the study proved to be harder than getting in..
After tracing the sigil, the door didn't budge.
"Verya'thin", I whispered.
It meant 'borrowed breath', a word I'd learnt could trick seals and ancient spells. And sure enough the magic flickered. I quickly stepped through before it could make up it's mind.
Back in my room, I hurriedly wrote everything down, not wanting to forget even the tiniest detail, from my dream up to the study. Careful not to miss anything.
That's perfect — your tone is already elegant and consistent with Nyssara's personality. I'll continue right from your last line ("Careful not to miss anything.") and add the scene where she calls Rhyven for training.
This version will keep Nyssara's calm, intelligent tone, while subtly showing her growing curiosity and quiet connection to Rhyven — a pull she doesn't understand yet but can't ignore.
The mood will stay hushed and introspective, with the faint undercurrent of something ancient shifting beneath the surface.
---
When I finally looked up from the page, dusk had fallen.
The sky outside my window was layered in deep blue and bruised gold, and for a moment I just sat there, the quill still between my fingers, watching the shadows stretch across the walls.
I'd written everything—every name, every sound, every flicker of light that had followed me from the dream to Father's study.
But even after all that, the question that refused to quiet was why.
Why those names?
Why now?
I closed the notebook softly, my hand lingering on the cover as if the ink inside might still shift and form answers.
It didn't.
My eyes drifted to my phone.
It had been days since we last trained, and I'd told myself I'd reach out, but I didnt.
Right when I was about to call, the phone screen showed an incoming call.
Rhyven answered before I spoke. "Nyssara?"
His voice was lower than I remembered tired, maybe.
"We'll train tomorrow before dawn in preparation of the competition"
There was a pause.
"You fainted," he reminded me, the words holding more weight than concern.
'How did he find out '
"Then consider this part of my recovery," I replied evenly.
Another pause, longer this time. I could almost imagine him tilting his head, that calculating way he looked at me when I said something that didn't fit neatly into his logic.
Finally, he said, "Fine. But if you collapse again, I won't be responsible."
"I'll take my chances," I murmured.
The screen went off.
But long after, I sat there, the name Kael still kept ringing in my head, whispering like a memory trying to find its way home.