Darkness.
Then came pain that was sharp, insistent, and radiating from his chest outward.
Aedan floated in a strange half-world, neither fully conscious nor completely lost to oblivion. His thoughts drifted like leaves on the river that had nearly claimed him, disconnected fragments without coherence or purpose.
He saw his family dying again, their blood pooling on the throne room floor. He heard Varius's voice explaining necessity and evolution. He felt the sword piercing his heart, the long fall, the cold embrace of the river.
But other images came, too, of unfamiliar visions that made no sense. A constellation of broken sword pieces hanging in a void. Blue light pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat. A voice without source whispering words he couldn't quite grasp.
Fracture accepted.
The pain intensified, centering on his chest where the sword had entered. He tried to scream but couldn't find his voice. His body felt impossibly heavy, pinned to some surface he couldn't identify.
Reconstruction begins.
Something was happening inside him a transformation beyond his understanding. The fragment in his chest burned like a star, sending waves of energy through his broken body.
Bones knitting, tissues mending, blood replenishing all driven by the foreign object that should have killed him.
Aedan struggled against the darkness, trying to reach consciousness. Voices filtered through his awareness unfamiliar, distant.
"Fever's getting worse. If it doesn't break by morning..."
A cool sensation on his forehead. Rough hands adjusting his position. The sting of something being cleaned and dressed.
"Never seen anything like it. The wound should have killed him instantly."
Time lost meaning.
Aedan drifted through memories and fever dreams, unable to distinguish between them. In one moment, he was a child racing through palace corridors with his brothers; in the next, he was falling endlessly toward water that never came.
Throughout it all, the constellation of broken sword fragments appeared repeatedly, gradually arranging themselves into a pattern that almost made sense. Each piece glowed with the same blue light as the fragment in his chest, pulsing in unison.
System initializing. Calibrating to host parameters.
The words meant nothing to Aedan, yet they resonated with something deep within him a recognition beyond conscious thought. The pain receded slightly, replaced by a strange tingling sensation throughout his body.
Host viability: marginal. Implementing emergency protocols.
More unfamiliar sensations, energy flowing through pathways he hadn't known existed, concentrating around the wound in his chest before dispersing outward.
The fever intensified, his body burning from within as something fundamental changed at a level beyond physical.
"Hold on, lad. Fight."
The gruff voice anchored him momentarily, providing a reference point in the chaos of his mind. Aedan tried to respond, to thank this unknown person for their care, but his lips wouldn't move.
Instead, he sank deeper into the strange inner landscape where the broken sword constellation hung. As he watched, one fragment illuminated more brightly than the others, pulsing with urgent rhythm.
Survival aspect activated.
The fragment expanded in his vision until it filled everything, its blue light washing over him like cool water.
Within that light, Aedan found a moment of peace, a pause from pain and confusion. He reached for it instinctively, and as his consciousness touched the glowing fragment, knowledge flowed into him.
This was part of him now. A piece of something greater, broken but not destroyed. Like him.
Initial bonding complete. Host stabilizing.
The fever peaked in a final, excruciating wave that seemed to consume him entirely. Aedan felt himself burning away his old self, his identity, his past all reduced to ash in the transformative fire.
Then, mercifully, true unconsciousness claimed him.
***
Kalen changed the cloth on the young man's forehead for what felt like the hundredth time.
Three days had passed since he'd pulled the boy from the river, three days of constant vigilance as fever raged through the slender body.
"You're the stubbornest patient I've ever had," Kalen muttered, checking the chest wound again.
What he saw defied explanation. The wound was healing at an impossible rate, the edges already knitting together despite its severity.
More strangely, the metal fragment embedded near the heart seemed to be integrating with the surrounding tissue, thin veins of blue light spreading outward like roots.
Kalen had seen many things during his years in the Imperial Guard from battlefield miracles to unexplainable recoveries and even to the rare System manifestation among the elite troops. But nothing like this.
"What are you?" he asked the unconscious figure.
The young man's face had begun to regain color, the deathly pallor replaced by the flush of fever.
His features, now cleaned of river mud and blood, showed a refined quality that confirmed Kalen's suspicion of noble birth. High cheekbones, a straight nose, and a strong jawline that reminded Kalen of...
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Coincidence and imagination, nothing more.
The youth stirred, eyelids fluttering without opening. His lips moved, forming words too quiet to hear. Kalen leaned closer.
"...falling... still falling..."
"You're safe," Kalen said firmly. "You're not falling anymore."
Whether the words penetrated the fever dreams, Kalen couldn't tell. The young man subsided into stillness again, his breathing slightly easier than before.
Kalen stood with a grunt, his bad leg stiff from sitting too long.
The small cabin felt even smaller after three days of confinement, watching over a stranger who might still die despite his efforts. He needed air.
Stepping outside, Kalen took a deep breath of forest-scented evening.
The river gurgled in the near distance, a constant reminder of where this strange chapter in his life had begun. Birds called their evening songs from the trees, unconcerned with human dramas.
News had reached even this remote spot about events in the capital. Travelers on the river road spoke of a "peaceful transition of power" following the "tragic deaths" of the imperial family.
High General Varius had been named Lord Protector of the Empire, supported by a coalition of foreign allies. Order was being maintained. Citizens should continue their normal activities.
Kalen snorted. He'd been in the military long enough to recognize a coup when he heard of one. The Valerian dynasty had ruled for three centuries their 'tragic' end would have required planning, coordination, and ruthless execution.
His thoughts returned to the young man inside. The timing was suspicious. A noble youth, stabbed through the heart and left for dead in the river, on the very night the imperial family was eliminated? It strained coincidence.
But if the boy was connected to the coup victim or a participant, that made his presence here dangerous. Kalen had built his quiet life specifically to avoid political entanglements.
The last thing he needed was to be caught harboring someone wanted by the new regime.
"Should have left you in the river," he muttered, though he knew he could never have done so.