After walking out of the training hall, Luke reformed his will. He will surely be stronger, and advance to places he hasn't step into. But, looks like his effort to improve could wait later.
Luke layed in bed like a corpse, unmoving, drained almost as something sucked all of the life inside his body. The moon watched him through the window, its pale light cutting through the dark.
Outside, the wind gathered—pressing softly against the glass, tapping like a polite guest waiting to be let in.
The knocking grew persistent. Luke stirred, half-conscious, caught between dream and nightmare.
When he finally reached the window, the latch gave way with a faint creak. The wind slipped inside, swirling around his bed in a slow, glowing dance. A warmth spread across his chest as a familiar voice echoed through the air.
"How's your condition, Luke?"
It was Aisle—her soft, melodic tone brushing against his thoughts, she sounds gentle but Luke could feel her worriness, as if the worry belong to him as well.
"Okay... I guess. But why through the window?"
"Eh? I thought it would be more romantic that way."
Luke fell back onto his pillow with a tired sigh. He was too drained to argue, though curiosity poked at him.
"Aisle?"
"Hmm?"
"Why did that single swing drain so much of my energy?"
Pain flared in his back and arms. Aisle hesitated before answering.
"It's… normal, but not to this extent."
Her words floated around him, vague yet heavy.
"Luke," she continued, "after forming a contract with a spirit, awakening your spiritual energy and abilities is a fragile stage. Think of it like a seed just beginning to sprout—vulnerable, not yet rooted, not yet steady, but full of what it could become. But..."
Aisle's calm voice tone began to shift.
"If the seed sprouted in a rough or poisonous ground. It won't be able to grow, at worst it could die."
Her form began to take shape in front of him—a body sculpted from wind and faint light. Her eyes held concern, though that was it seems from Luke's perspective. Aisle's human form was a bit blurry but it definitely clearer than the one he saw in his dream.
"And you," she said, pointing gently toward his chest, "might be cursed."
Luke shot upright.
"Will it kill me?"
She was surprised by Luke's expression. It was filled with sincere concern as if a sparkle of hope had light his will to live, unlike what she saw back in the valley and his dream. Although her form was too subtle for Luke to noticed, she smiled in front of him with ease.
After a short pause Aisle shook her head.
"No. Whatever curse it was, it wasn't meant to kill—and it's already been dispelled."
Relief flooded him. He took a long sip of water, trying to calm the tremor in his hands.
"Do you know who did this?"
Her body faded into air, but her voice lingered in his mind.
"Unfortunately, no. I've been watching you since you were a child—until you reached school age. After that, the winds around you scattered… until the day you were exiled."
Luke frowned, counting the years in his head.
"So… around when I was nine to sixteen."
A gentle breeze filled the room again, wrapping around him like a blanket.
"Don't overthink it," she whispered. "We'll find out in the fullness of time. For now—shouldn't you be resting?"
The warmth of the wind lulled him back to sleep. Darkness took him quietly.
---
The next morning, thunder roared. Clouds swallowed the sky until the day turned dim as dusk. Rain overflowed the rivers; wind tore through the streets.
Luke watched from his window, grateful for the storm—it meant no morning training with Ron.
As he wandered through the hallways, he ran into his 'teacher'.
"Ah, Luke! What a shame about the weather, huh?" Ron chuckled, his voice cheerful but his grin hiding something sharp.
Luke smiled nervously, already sensing what was coming.
"You've improved," Ron said, glancing out toward the drenched training field. "Your movements are cleaner, sharper… almost like you've grown younger." He then think to himself, suspicious of Luke's position to be ranked too low for his abilities.
Luke blinked. That same thought had crossed his mind, but he brushed it off. Perhaps it was the curse's remnants, or maybe Aisle's power taking root.
He didn't reply. Instead, he headed toward the front door. A maid hurried over, handing him a folded umbrella, a scarf, and a leather jacket with a raincoat—things he could never afford on his own.
"Please be safe out there Sir Luke. It looks like the sky's rage is about to calm down in a few minutes. Do you want to—perhaps wait a little bit?"
Luke paused then shook his head, he held all the stuff the maids prepared for him quietly. Outside, the storm raged on. Inside, he felt the faint pulse of wind circling him again.
Luke stepped outside, raincoat on, umbrella still unopened. The streets that once buzzed with laughter and chatter now lay silent under the gray sky. Rain poured in crooked lines, and puddles reflected the dim glow of lamps that refused to die. All that was left in the road was the sound of rain and water.
"The wind looks like it could fly me any moment now."
Luke looks down on his body, not feeling the force of the weather at it's fullest.
"Aisle is this one of your-"
He then recalled the moment he woke up today.
---
"Also there's one more thing I need to mention,"
Aisle whisper to the exhausted Luke.
"I couldn't always respond to your call, at least for a short while."
"Does it has to do with the awakening?"
"Mmhm,"
Her voice softened.
"but don't worry, I'll always stay by your side."
"After all, good things will come in your way"
He saw her face for one more time, astonished by her beauty once more.
---
He walked aimlessly for a while, the rhythmic patter of rain dulling his thoughts. Eventually, the storm began to tire—rain softened into drizzle, and the wind that once roared now hummed softly, brushing against his coat.
Chills ran down his spine as he was taken back by the view he had not seen in what felt like forever.
"Guess that's enough fresh air," he muttered, turning back toward the house.
That's when he saw her—a figure dashing through the rain, dress soaked, running without any raincoat or umbrella. It took him a second to recognize her.
Wait… isn't that Ron's daughter?
He had only learned yesterday that she studied at the Twin Crest University. Her brother lived in the dorms, but she apparently came home often, sometime not only maid came to his room to deliver food but also Ron.
He shared his story and a few of them are about his daughter and son. Seldomly he saw her on the dining table though he had never once get a chance to talk with her. He squinted through the rain, trying to recall her name.
"Uh…" he mumbled, digging through every memory he had of the house. "Lily? Lila? Lollipop?"
The girl drew closer—her boots splashing through puddles, her silver hair sticking to her cheeks. She was carrying a staff and other things related to her studies as a mage.
Wait… isn't that Ron's daughter?
She drew closer, boots splashing through puddles, silver hair clinging to her cheeks, a staff gripped in her hand.
"Hey! You there—uh, Lilac! Over here!"
The girl stopped mid-run, blinking at him in confusion.
"You are…"
She came closer to him, there he stood below a store's awning.
Luke offered a handkerchief for her, she swiftly took it away from his hand with an annoyed expression on her face.
"What did you called me?" She glared while drying her face.
Luke froze, hand halfway down after giving the handkerchief.
"Lilac? Isn't that—uh—your name?"
She marched closer, rain stills dripping from her bangs, her glare sharp enough to cut through the storm.
"It's Lyliette!" she snapped. "Who even names their kid Lilac?!"
Luke scratched his head awkwardly. He stepped on a beast's tail.
"It sounded… floral? I was close?"
She sighed, exasperated, but there was a faint laugh hiding in her voice.
"You're lucky my dad likes you. Otherwise, I'd have swung this staff at your face."
Luke chuckled nervously, trying to recover some dignity.
"Right, right. Lyliette. Got it this time. Totally won't forget."
"You will," She said flatly in distrust.
Her temper was not the only one raging. The rain surged again, pounding against the road.
They stood under the same blue with white stripes awning below the softening rain for a moment before Luke, trying to be polite, opened his umbrella and tried to hand it to her.
"Here. No point letting you melt out here."
Lyliette looked up at him, a bit surprised, before reluctantly stepping closer under the shared umbrella.
"You're not as hopeless as I thought," she muttered.
"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me all week. But can't you hold this one for yourself?"
She ignored him with a pout on her face. The faint scent of rain and wet earth surrounded them—a rare calm amid the storm.
They walked side by side, the sound of raindrops pattering softly on the umbrella.
Lyliette's cheeks were still puffed from being called "Lilac," and her steps had that annoyed bounce that only made Luke smile, a small but honest one.
"You know," she began kicking a small puddle, "Oh right! Dad—Father said you're some kind of swordsman. But I've never seen you do anything other than sleep and drink tea."
Luke didn't bother to look at her.
"That's because I earned the right to sleep and drink tea." Luke said, bothered to explain further.
"Earned it how? By doing morning training?"
He sighed.
"It's a long story, why don't you ask your father."
"Fine."
She let out a frustrated noise. "You are annoying."
The drizzle softened to a mist as they crossed the cobblestone path. Most of the townsfolk had vanished indoors, leaving behind faint candlelight behind shuttered windows. The world felt peaceful—almost too peaceful for a man who lived most of his life on battlefields.
"So," Lyliette started again, "was it really you who destroyed one of our enchanted dummies?"
Luke nearly stopped walking. "What?"
"The servants were gossiping all morning. They said someone sliced it clean in half. The repair mage almost fainted."
Luke cleared his throat. "Must've been… a manufacturing defect."
"Right. A dummy made of reinforced hay and ironwood just broke itself in half."
"It happens sometimes."
"Sure. Just like the sword breaking itself after."
Luke exhaled deeply.
"You're very good at interrogation. You ever thought about joining the military?"
"No thanks. I don't like shouting."
They turned onto the main bridge, mist curling up from the canal below. Lyliette stepped on a slick stone without looking, her boot sliding an inch—she wobbled with a yelp.
Without thinking, Luke grabbed her shoulder, steadying her, keeping her dry from the big puddle below.
"Careful. You almost kissed the pavement," he said flatly.
"I—I meant to do that!" she blurted, face red.
"Testing the puddle's depth?"
"Exactly!"
Luke tried to hold his laugh, though his expression itself was a mockery for Lyliette.
She scowled. "Stop teasing me."
"Fine."
She puffed her cheeks again but said nothing.
The rain had stopped completely now, leaving behind the scent of wet earth and faint chimney smoke.
"Anyway," she muttered, "if you're really that good, maybe you could teach me sometime."
Luke turned to her.
"I'm good."
Then his gaze drifted back to the rain-soaked road.
The power still lingered in his mind—but it wasn't the only thing bothering him. Ever since that dream with Aisle, he had started noticing things… faint particles, subtle auras clinging to people, each with its own color, its own presence.
And hers—
A dark gray, veiling a pale blue. Cold, like ice beneath ash.
The gray wasn't empty.
It carried something heavy… dull… dragging.
Luke narrowed his eyes slightly, focusing for a brief moment.
Something lingered within that gray—
Fatigue.
They walked the rest of the way in silence, the glow of Ron's mansion slowly emerging through the fog.
"You don't talk much, do you?" Lyliette asked quietly.
"Talking's for people with answers."
"And you don't have any?"
"Not yet."
She smiled faintly.
"Well, when you do, I'll be the first to hear it."
"You're assuming I'll tell you."
"You will," she said with quiet confidence. "People always tell me things they don't mean to."
A small pause.
"...Maybe I just have that kind of charm."
Charmed?
For a brief moment, Luke found himself staring.
She was… striking. The kind of beauty that didn't need effort—sharp, almost unreal beneath the rain.
But he had already seen Aisle.
After that, it was hard to be truly shaken by appearances alone.
Still, even by that standard… she was close.
Before Luke could respond, a thunderous voice echoed from the house.
"Luke! You're back early, how about a sparring match? Looks like the rain is gonna be over soon!"
Lyliette snorted, covering her mouth.
"Guess surviving isn't training after all, huh?"
Luke groaned under his breath.
Should've let the puddle win.