I found myself standing on the edge of a vast lake, its waters shimmering under the sunlight. As I looked down, I saw the reflection of my younger self, a child of about eight years old, with wide, curious eyes gazing back at me from beneath the water’s surface.

Confusion clouded my mind. What is this? Why am I a child again?

My thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a figure darted past me, splashing water onto me. “Hey, watch it!” I heard my younger self exclaim, my voice a blend of annoyance and surprise. The response was a cascade of laughter from the water emanating from a figure whose face remained frustratingly obscured, bathed in a halo of sunlight that was reflecting off the lake.

“Come on, you said you wanted to learn how to swim,” the figure called out. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized the voice - the same young boy who had invaded my waking thoughts.

That’s him! But who is he?

“I do, but I’m scared. And the water is cold,” my younger self protested, timid yet intrigued.

“Don’t be such a child; come on in!” the boy encouraged with a playful yell.

As a child, I hesitantly waded further into the lake, feeling the chill of the water encroach upon my skin. I felt a profound disconnect - this was my memory, yet it felt like a dream.

Where is this place? Who is this boy?

My view was locked onto the rippling water, now lapping higher against my young form. “You’re being too slow,” the boy teased, splashing water toward me.

“Stop it! That’s not nice,” I protested, but my words only fueled his joy, leading to more enthusiastic splashes.

Frustrated and soaked, my younger self turned to leave, yelling, “I don’t want you to teach me anymore. You’re not being nice.” As I returned to the shore, I noticed two adult figures lounging nearby, engrossed in their books. 

Are they my parents?

“Don’t go, I was just playing around,” the boy pleaded from behind.

Ignoring him, I continued towards the shore. 

“Come on, Sammy.”

Sammy? Who calls me that?

As his hand gripped my arm, a sharp, searing pain shot through my elbow, snapping me awake, my heart pounding, and a myriad of questions swirling in my mind.

I sat up, clutching at my left arm where an inexplicable pain had surged and then faded, leaving behind an unsettling warmth. Confusion clouded my thoughts as I looked around me in the now dark room, the sun now a distant memory in the sky. My stomach rumbled, echoing the house's emptiness, but my mind was preoccupied, replaying the strange memory that had interrupted my slumber.

Why can't I remember going to a lake with my parents? And who was that boy?

The memory was familiar yet alien, a fragment of a past that didn't feel like my own. The sound of the front door creaking open broke my trance, and the soft chatter of Cyril and Adelia soon filled the quiet space. Their silhouettes appeared in the doorway, their eyes sparkling with relief and excitement at seeing me awake.

*

I abruptly rose from my armchair, scattering papers and inkwells in a clatter. My heart pounded in my chest as my mind reeled from the long-forgotten memory.

Why am I remembering this now?

"What is the matter?" I heard Belmont ask. 

When had he entered the room? I wondered as my mind tried to make sense of what was happening.

Pulling my left sleeve up, I inspected my arm but found no mark or blemish to explain the sudden sharp pain that had surged through me. A sense of unease gnawed at me as I covered my arm again.

Determined for answers, I approached a bookshelf beside my desk and deftly pulled a blue-bound book. The shelf clicked and slid aside, revealing a hidden passageway bathed in shadows that delved deeper into the bowels of the guild chamber. As I stepped into the passage, Belmont followed me; concern etched on his face.

“Mikhail, is something—?” Belmont began, but I, consumed by my quest for answers, marched forward without a word.

With a snap of my fingers, I summoned orbs of blue flame that danced in the air, casting an eerie light on the ancient stone walls as we descended deeper. 

Reaching the dungeon, a sense of foreboding enveloped me. The guild dungeon was connected to the dungeon at the mansion; it was through this connection that they had access to magic so far from the estate. Etched into the stone floor was another rune that emitted a faint blue glow—an anomaly that defied explanation. My steps quickened, drawn to the mysterious luminescence.

Belmont lingered at the threshold, his eyes wide with disbelief. Never in his years had he seen the runes activate without a spoken incantation, nor had I. 

I knelt by the glowing rune, my expression a mix of curiosity and concern. As I gently touched it, the light flickered, struggling against an unseen force before extinguishing completely under my touch.

Belmont gracefully joined his hands and chanted a sweet-sounding incantation. Between his palms, a sphere of light began to manifest, growing from a mere spark to a luminous orb of verdant green. With a subtle upward gesture, he sent the orb aloft, its eerie radiance spilling into the dungeon's every nook and cranny. Shadows danced along the ancient stone walls, creating a tableau of light and darkness that added a haunting beauty to the room.

Hesitantly, Belmont stepped toward me, still kneeling beside the now dormant rune.

"Brother?" His voice, laced with unspoken concerns, resonated in the cold, damp air of the dungeon.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely registered Belmont's question. 

“I need to return to the mansion at once,” I commanded, my voice unwavering yet tinged with a cold urgency that echoed off the dungeon walls.

I could see the shock on Belmont's face from my words: “Mikhail, you cannot just leave at a time like this. You are needed to assist us in finding out what the church is hiding.” His words were firm, a subtle nudge to ground me in the present realities.

My thoughts momentarily shifted from the rune to the pressing matters. “Right,” I muttered, barely audible in the cavernous room.

A heavy and contemplative silence settled between us. 

“Theo is sending over the items we need from the mansion,” Belmont added, breaking the contemplative quiet.

I nodded, acknowledging his words, but my mind was adrift, caught in the tides of uncertainty stirred by the memory and the rune. The previous convergence spells had never manifested such phenomena; this deviation from the norm was baffling and unsettling.

Belmont, sensing my distraction, asked sincerely, “Should I tell them to prepare it, brother?”

My response was almost an afterthought, and despite my tumultuous thoughts, my trust in Belmont's judgment was evident. “Yes, have them prepare it.”

"I will have Ras prepare it along with some lunch; you didn't have much at breakfast,” Belmont reminded me, his concern for my health always genuine. 

Now consumed by my thoughts, I barely acknowledged his departure. I made my way to a large, archaic wooden desk near the base of the dungeon stairs. Its surface was littered with parchments scrawled with arcane symbols and ancient scripts that could only be read by those loyal to the Ducal bloodline. I began sifting through them, each document a potential key to unraveling the enigma that plagued me.

The realization that answers were beyond my immediate reach only stoked the flames of my vexation. In a rare moment of unrestrained emotion, I grasped an empty inkwell. Blue light, pulsating and vibrant, enveloped my hand, causing the glass to warp under the intensity of my power. With a flicker of anger, I hurled it against the wall, watching as it shattered into countless pieces, each a mirror to my fragmented thoughts.

Resolutely, I forced myself to set aside the enigma, redirecting my focus to the impending visit with the High Priest and the need to visit Zandel forest. 

Upon entering the upper chamber, the familiar scent of lavender wafted toward me, a subtle reminder of the world beyond my inner turmoil. I noticed Ras pouring tea with practiced ease.

I sank into the nearest chair, the fabric’s soft embrace a welcome contrast to the dungeon’s cold stone. I accepted the cup of tea, its warmth seeping into my hands, a small but potent gesture of comfort. With each sip, the heady aroma of lavender enveloped me in a calm embrace that slowly unraveled the knots of tension within me.

For a brief moment, I allowed myself to drift away from the labyrinth of my worries, and I found a fleeting respite from the storm of questions that besieged me.

As the tea worked its magic, my thoughts drifted to childhood memories. I wandered to the gardens of the Ducal mansion, the scent of roses in the air and the vibrant colors of the petals dancing in the breeze. I remembered running through the halls with Belmont, the two of us laughing and playing with the servant's children.

But even those fond memories were tinged with a sense of melancholy. My childhood had been cut short by the weight of responsibility that came with my birthright. I had been groomed from a young age to become the Duke of the Northern Territories. The weight of that responsibility had only grown heavier with time, and now, in the face of the unanswered questions that plagued me, it felt almost unbearable.

I set the teacup on the table and leaned back against the chair, closing my eyes. I focused on breathing, allowing myself to sink deeper into the cocoon of calm the tea had created around me. Slowly, the thoughts and worries that had plagued me began to fade, replaced by a sense of stillness and peace.