After a long thirty-minute walk through the cobblestone maze of the Nobility District - and enough glares to make anyone rethink their fashion sense - I finally reached my destination.
The estate of Lord Arthur - my benefactor.
Compared to the surrounding homes, Arthur's manor was a behemoth. Like it knew it didn't belong in the neighborhood, but dared everyone to say otherwise. Towering iron fences, flawless lawns, a winding driveway lined with brass lamps - and no less than six guards pacing in neat rows.
The place didn't whisper wealth like the rest of the nobility district.It roared power.
As I approached the front gate, one of the guards stepped forward. He wore a sharp blue uniform with a lion emblem surrounded by nine thin knives on his sleeve. Rifle slung. Chin up. Eyes sharp.
And full of contempt.
"Halt. This is a restricted estate. No entry without certification."
He looked me up and down like I was a rat that'd crawled in from the sewer.
"If you don't have it, move along. Or suffer the consequences."
Without a word, I pulled a golden coin from my coat pocket, its edge chained to silver. I held it lazily between two fingers as it dangled listlessley.
Not a bribe, but definitely certification.
He froze when he saw the emblem etched into the coin's face - the same lion and knives as his badge.
His posture straightened. His glare evaporated. He went full obedient mutt.
"My apologies, sir! May I have your name? You should be on the registry."
I raised a brow and exhaled slowly, schooling my features into something haughty.
Let's test the old acting skills, hopefully they haven't gotten rusty after all these years.
"Damian," I said, straightening my collar. "No last name. Still working on it."
The recognition hit like a slap. He straightened into a salute so stiff it was a miracle his spine didn't snap.
"Sir Damian! I-I had no idea-!"
"Relax," I said, waving a hand. "Tensions are high. I get it."
He didn't move.
I narrowed my eyes, tone turning cold.
"Piece of advice, soldier - never bow during interrogation. Especially not with your rifle slung. Doesn't matter if it's the Emperor himself - you lose eye contact, you lose the fight. Understood?"
He looked like I'd just rearranged his worldview. But he saluted again, tighter this time. But he had at least translated my words to action, making sure to watch me as he did.
"Yes, sir!"
Oh god, am I the bad cop type now? What's next, a speech on honor or a reprimand to the gallows?
I nodded solemnly.
"I'll be sure to pass along your name. You've got potential. Just don't screw up next time. I doubt they'd go as easy as I did."
"Understood, sir!"
Trying very hard to suppress a smirk, I passed through the now-open gate, throwing him one last look over my shoulder.
"You're Arthur's personal guard, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thanks for doing your job."
I said it with a small smile and walked on.
I hate playing this role.But damn, I'm getting good at it.
Inside the mansion, I was led by none other than Sabian. His usual disgusted silence was oddly comforting, as the last thing I wanted to hear was his shitty old voice. He knocked on a grand oak door ahead of me.
"Sir, Damian has arrived."
"Thank you, Sabian. Let him in."
The door opened. And there he was.
Arthur.
Late twenties. Blonde. Sharp-featured. Eyes like bottled lightning - aquamarine and unblinking. He was dressed in a dark coat lined with gray and silver threads, one hand writing notes, the other resting near a half-finished pipe.
I knew you had an alcohol problem, but seems you picked up tobacco in these last two three years.
Even sitting, his frame radiated presence. He was the kind of man you either followed or challenged. His role as the Commander-in-Chief of the city's garrison spoke of his charisma as a leader.
His favor of the lower class was even more impressive. He was a shining example of justice, one that outshone all else that stood before him.
I hated him for it. Just a little.
I gave a short nod and stepped inside.
"It's been a while, Damian," he said, voice calm. "You've grown. You used to be much shorter."
I had. I was only fourteen when I'd disappeared into seclusion, with Arthur's permission. The memories clawed at my throat, but I swallowed them.
Arthur gestured to the room. "Speak freely. I've placed a barrier around us, none shall hear."
Thank the gods.
I collapsed onto a plush couch in the corner, letting out the kind of sigh that only comes from forced socializing.
"I've been around more people today than in two years combined," I groaned. "I'm not built for this. I'm already exhausted."
I looked at him, eyes half-lidded.
"And you want me to attend the ceremony tonight? Really? Way to give me some nottice"
His brow quirked.
"I did give you notice, but from Sabian told me, you weren't exactly receptive to recieving it.
I only grumbled in response, getting comfier in the couch as I did so.
"I assume you also know about my promotion?"
"Bit obvious. Servants are jittery. Sabian's more sour than usual. And you actually brushed your hair."
Arthur chuckled.
"Still sharp, I see. Good. You'll need it tonight. Have your studies been fruitful?"
I closed my eyes.
"Very."
More like, the memories are returning. Slowly. And not all of them welcome.
My thoughts drifted to Adrian. That strange familiarity gnawed at me.
The ache of half-remembering someone is worse than forgetting them entirely. It seemed recently that feeling of half-remembering was gnawing at my mind at accelerating speeds.
Arthur's voice snapped me back.
"Show me your divine energy. I need to confirm you can still control it."
I blinked.
"You sure this room's built for that?"
He didn't answer.
I sat up, flexed my fingers, and let it out.
A thick black mist poured from my hand - inky, shimmering like oil in moonlight. It swirled around the room in lazy arcs, draining the oxygen as it moved. The air thickened, dense and heavy with pressure. I wasn't affected, but I could see Arthur cover his mouth, making sure not to breathe it in.
Divine energy. Aetheris.
Not a spark of fire or flick of light. No chants. Just will and command. And the smoke obeyed.
Arthur's eyes widened slightly, then he snapped his fingers.
The windows slammed open.
He raised a glowing hand, and golden divine energy surged from his palm - bright, warm, regal. It collided with mine and gently pushed the black mist out into the night.
I smirked.
"Still got it?"
He shook his head, impressed.
"I knew you were an Awakened. But controlling it without a medium at such a young age? There's maybe three others in Morren who can do that."
He leaned back into his chair, face darkening.
"But that color. You know what would happen if the wrong people saw it."
I nodded.
Black Aetheris. A stain in the divine spectrum. And me? A nobody from the Outer Rim.That's why they'll never accept me. Why they'll fear me.
Divinity was rare.
Extremely rare.
The last time sorcery was discovered, it nearly destroyed the world. Since then, only nobles - those with divine bloodlines - were allowed to wield it. People like me? We weren't supposed to exist.
But I did.
And that made me an anomaly, and dangerous.
I groaned inwardly.
Me being apart of Arthur's noble household would prevent some flak.
All this attention. All this fate bullshit. I didn't ask for this.
Still, I'd need it.
The capital. The prophecy. The deaths I had to prevent. All of it was coming, fast.
And I still didn't even know who I really was, or why I was even here.
Arthur smoked silently.
I stared at the ceiling.
Divinity affected the mind. The more you used it, the more the Veil whispered. Voices. Visions. People who weren't there.
That's how it started.
And then?
Madness.
Arthur was one of the most composed men I knew.
And even he couldn't hide the cracks. Or the cracks that would form later. There was a reason Divinity was so regulated and centralized, both for control, and safety.
I remember you, Arthur.I remember what you became.What you did.
That's why I was here. That's why I made sure we were allies.
For now.
He stood, brushing ash from his coat.
"It's getting late. Get dressed. We leave for the Regent's manor soon."
Outside, the sky was painted orange.
I rose from the couch, reluctantly dragging myself toward the next chapter of this farce.
And then it hit me.
The name of the novel.
The one I'd read back on Earth.
The one this world echoed far too closely.
Paradise Lost.