Arkael's eyelids fluttered open to a dim, quiet room. The scent of herbs lingered in the air, mingling with the chill of stone walls that surrounded him.
A dull ache pulsed in his skull, and every breath felt shallow, like his chest had been caved in.
Confusion settled over him like a heavy fog. Where was he? The edges of his memory danced just out of reach—faces, names, places—all muddled and distant.
A soft but sharp female voice then broke the silence.
"Finally awake, Renhardt?"
His eyes shifted toward the sound. A girl stood near the foot of the bed, arms crossed, her posture rigid. She wore an unfamiliar uniform and had long pastel-blue hair that fell over her shoulders. Her golden eyes regarded him with thinly veiled disdain.
"Who... are you?" he croaked, throat dry and voice unsteady.
Her gaze sharpened. "Selene. Selene Fayern." She took a step closer. "And you're lucky I found you before you bled out like a fool."
He blinked, trying to attach something—anything—to her name. It sounded vaguely familiar, but no images came to mind. "What? Where the hell am I?"
Selene's expression softened just a touch, though her voice stayed cool. "You're in the academy infirmary, Renhardt."
"A...academy?" he echoed, the word strange and unfamiliar on his tongue.
What academy? And why does she keep calling me Renhardt? I don't even know who that is!
Selene narrowed her eyes. "What, did they knock you stupid too? Or are you just playing dumb for sympathy?"
Irritated by her words and demeanor, he pointed a shaky finger at her and snapped, "You're being awfully rude to the Great Sage of Astia, you insolent child!"
Then, he froze.
The hand he was pointing with wasn't gnarled or veined with age. It was smooth, slender… young. Even his voice sounded wrong—lighter, less commanding.
His eyes widened as he looked down at himself. This body... it wasn't his. Not even close.
Before he could spiral further, something knocked lightly against his forehead. Her fist.
"Gah! What was that for?!" he barked out, clutching his head.
Selene loomed over him, arms folded, gaze flat. "Because you're clearly delusional or under some kind of spell. The Great Sage of Astia died over a thousand years ago, you idiot."
His blood ran cold as he tried to register what she had just revealed to him.
"Wait—what?!"