The building Master Halren called home was unassuming from the outside, its weathered stone walls softened by decades of sun and wind. Yet inside, the air was dense with the scent of herbs, dried flowers, and faint traces of something more subtle, a low hum that hinted at magic lingering within the walls themselves. Ilyra stepped cautiously through the doorway, allowing her eyes to adjust. Every surface spoke of care and purpose. Shelves lined with neatly labeled jars held powders, roots, and liquids in every conceivable shade. Scrolls, stacked with meticulous precision, formed patterns that seemed to exist more for order than for display. Candles burned low, their flames dancing across the room, revealing shadows that shifted like they had a life of their own. This was not merely a home or a study. It was a place of living knowledge, a space where magic and understanding intertwined.
Master Halren sat behind a broad, polished wooden desk, his posture both deliberate and commanding. His long fingers, knotted with age and strength, rested lightly on the surface as he regarded her. His hair was white as ash, his eyes a sharp gray that seemed capable of seeing through both flesh and thought. For a moment, Ilyra felt that gaze reach past the borrowed body and into the essence she carried, as if he could sense both soul and disguise. The awareness made her chest tighten, reminding her that magic had a memory of its own, and it had already begun to recognize her.
You are well enough to stand, he said, his voice calm yet firm. Good. That is more than I expected. Ilyra inclined her head, careful to replicate Seris's subtle mannerisms. Thank you, Master Halren. I feel stronger today. Feeling stronger is not the same as being prepared, he replied. There are aspects of this life that you do not yet understand. You believe you are ready, but power is not something one can simply wield. It is a living current, and it remembers the hands that attempt to hold it.
His words pressed against her mind with a weight that was nearly tangible. The body she now inhabited held memories, habits, and instincts, but magic had its own recollection, separate and relentless. Even after the Crossing, her former self lingered, faint and insistent, like a whisper beneath the surface of water. She could feel it here, in the small tremors of the body, in the faint recognition of movements she had never learned in this life.
You carry yourself with caution, Halren continued, leaning forward slightly. That is wise, but caution alone will not keep you alive. There are those who would see this life this body destroyed for reasons you may not yet understand. You must learn to navigate their scrutiny without revealing what you carry inside. That is your responsibility.Ilyra listened, absorbing each word. Caelen Ardyn's presence in the square earlier replayed in her mind, the weight of his gaze, the subtle intensity that seemed to measure and weigh everything she did. He was a man of influence, someone whose magic was precise and disciplined, and whose reputation preceded him. If he noticed any discrepancy in her presence, if he sensed even the faintest ripple caused by the Crossing, it could endanger her before she had learned to control the body fully. And Caelen? she asked cautiously. He is here in the town. Should it concerned? Halren's gray eyes narrowed, focusing on her in a way that suggested he already knew the question's answer. Caelen Ardyn does not act without reason. He senses disturbances that others would overlook entirely. Whether he will recognize what has been done is uncertain, but you must assume that every movement, every glance, every word you speak may be observed and analyzed. Nothing here goes unnoticed.
Ilyra swallowed. The quiet weight of the warning settled in her chest. Caelen was no ordinary visitor; he was a force carefully woven into the currents of magic and authority, someone whose attention alone could shift the balance of events in ways she could not yet comprehend. Surviving this encounter would require skill, awareness, and subtlety.
You will train, Halren said, rising slowly to his feet. His movements were deliberate, controlled, and spoke of a body long accustomed to authority. Not as the Ilyra Veyne you remember yourself to be, and not solely as the Seris whose body you now occupy. You must learn to merge the two to combine the strength of the soul you carry with the habits and instincts of the body you now command. Only by understanding both can you survive what is to come.
Ilyra felt the body shift under her awareness, muscles learning, fingers adjusting, reflexes tuning themselves to unfamiliar commands. Every motion was a negotiation between the life she had taken and the life she now inhabited. Every step required attention, and every gesture demanded precision. The afternoon stretched on as Halren guided her through exercises that tested both memory and control forcing her to reconcile the instincts of Seris's body with the knowledge, experience, and cunning of Ilyra's mind. At first, every motion felt foreign, uncoordinated, and frustrating, but gradually a fragile harmony began to emerge. The body and soul once divided, started moving together, cautious, careful, and deliberate.
When the sun began to dip beyond the hills, spilling amber light across the room, Ilyra stepped outside. The cool evening air carried the scents of smoke, earth, and the faint tang of herbs from nearby gardens. At the edge of the street, standing with the quiet authority of a shadow that did not need light to dominate, was Caelen Ardyn. His dark hair caught the fading sunlight, and his eyes, sharp and calculating, lingered on her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken.
I was told you would come, he said, his voice low and precise. There was no accusation in his tone, only expectation and measurement. Master Halren governs his own domain, but he does not control your actions. That responsibility falls to you. Ilyra met his gaze steadily, letting Seris's body convey confidence even as her mind raced. I understand, she replied. I am learning.
He studied her for a long moment, as if weighing the truth of her words against the life he thought he knew. Then he turned and began walking toward the edge of the town, leaving her to follow. Every step forward was deliberate, careful, each one a negotiation between survival and exposure. She understood now that every choice mattered. Every glance, every word, every action could ripple outward in ways she had not yet imagined. This body was not hers. Yet the power it carried, the habits and memories it retained, were the only tools she had to survive. She would need patience, calculation, and an unwavering resolve to master both halves of herself. Only then could she navigate the world of magic, politics, and danger that had already begun to shift around her.
And she knew, with quiet certainty, that Caelen Ardyn's attention was only the beginning.