The Life After Death

  Chapter 7: New Paths

  The past six months had been a quiet yet transformative chapter in our lives. Following the chaos of that fateful night, the days that came were marked by healing—physically, emotionally, and as a family.

  The nightmare of Helena’s awakening and my own premature display of magic had shaken us all to the core, but through it, we found strength in each other. Elara’s gentle hands and warm smiles became the glue that kept us together, while Raiden’s fiery determination reminded us that no challenge was insurmountable.

  Each morning, I would sit on the porch, wrapped in a soft woollen blanket that Elara insisted on tucking around me, no matter how warm the sun was. The air carried the scent of dew-kissed grass and freshly turned soil from the fields beyond the village. From my perch, I would watch Raiden in the yard, his shirt discarded as he swung his sword with practiced precision.

  His movements, though refined, had an inefficiency that only I—with the memories of my previous life—could see. The blade cut through the air with a soft whistle, occasionally erupting in bursts of flame as his mana infused his strikes, but his follow-through lacked the sharpness needed to deliver a decisive blow.

  He’s leaving his left side open, my gaze following the predictable arc of his sword. If his opponent dodged right, they’d have a clean shot at his ribs. My lips twitched with the hint of a smirk. A quick pivot and a feint with a reverse grip would solve that flaw.

  "Focus on your core," Raiden muttered to himself, unaware of my gaze. He paused mid-swing to adjust his stance, the sunlight catching on the sweat trailing down his brow. "Every strike must have intent."

  I held back a laugh, my mind conjuring an image of a stern master berating him in his youth. Intent is good, but execution matters too.

  "You’re staring again," Elara’s voice broke my train of thought. She stepped onto the porch, a basket of mending in her lap, her black eyes twinkling with amusement. "Are you planning to critique your father’s technique again, little soldier?"

  I shrugged innocently. "It’s not my fault Dad’s predictable," I quipped, feigning a yawn. "Even Helena could dodge that swing."

  Elara laughed, her warm voice filling the air. "You sound like a miniature general already. Don’t let your father hear you say that, or he’ll have you out there training before you’re ready."

  "Oh, I’d love to," I replied with mock enthusiasm. "As long as I don’t have to wear a shirt and shout dramatic things like, 'Prepare to die!'"

  Elara shook her head, her smile softening as she adjusted the blanket around me. "You’re impossible," she said, her tone laced with affection. But as her gaze lingered on Raiden, I could see the pride shining through her eyes, even if she wouldn’t admit it outright.

  Studying Raiden’s sword movements and how he infused his mana into each strike had become a daily ritual for me. With every calculated swing, I dissected his technique, critiqued the inefficiencies, and mentally adjusted them to something sharper, faster and deadlier.

  One day, I’ll take those moves, refine them, and make them my own, I thought with a smirk. And when I do, that old man won’t stand a chance.

  My mind often replayed the night I awakened, but what truly fascinated me was the incantation Raiden recited before unleashing that massive fire magic spell. The way the words carried power, sparked a curiosity I couldn’t ignore.

  One afternoon, as I watched Raiden training in the yard, I finally mustered the courage to ask. "Dad," I began hesitantly, "what was that spell you used that night? And how do incantations work?"

  Raiden paused mid-swing, lowering his sword as he turned to me with a curious smile. "Interested now, are we?" he teased, wiping sweat from his brow. "Well, it’s simple, in a way. Incantations act as a bridge, channelling mana through words to give it form. Without them, a mage can’t structure their magic."

  "So, you have to speak the incantation every time?" I pressed, leaning forward eagerly.

  He nodded. "Yes, for most mages. The words shape and guide the mana, but it’s more than just speaking them. A mage needs control—the ability to sense and internally visualize the mana—to direct its flow. The incantation then acts as a final catalyst, turning raw energy into a specific spell based on what you’ve visualized and spoken."

  I frowned, considering his explanation. "But why did it sound so... different? Almost like the words were alive?"

  Raiden’s expression softened with understanding. "That’s because the mana itself resonates with your voice when you speak an incantation. It’s not just about saying the words; it’s about pushing mana into them. The language may sound strange because it’s imbued with power."

  I mulled over his words, a thousand questions swirling in my mind. "So, every mage needs incantations?"

  Raiden’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if recalling a distant memory. "Every mage requires incantations to perform strong magic spells. But you can also use your mana for basic magic to enhance your attacks, defenses, or even your body’s movements," he explained, his voice steady with a teacher’s patience.

  "That said, I’ve heard rumors—just whispers—about a few mages who don’t need to use incantations at all. I’ve never met one myself, though, so I can’t say if it’s true or just some wild tale."

  Huh, incantation-less? I thought with curiosity, filing the information away for later. "Dad, how do you learn these spells?"

  Raiden’s grin returned. "Learning spells isn’t about memorizing words. It’s about visualizing exactly what you want, pushing your mana into that vision, and speaking it into existence."

  I tilted my head, trying to follow. "So… it just happens? That’s not very helpful, Dad."

  He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "It’s hard to explain because it’s something you feel more than you think about. When you channel your mana, the incantation aligns it into the shape of the spell you’re imagining."

  Great, suppressing a sigh. So magic spells boil down to ‘you’ll know it when you feel it.’ Thanks for that ground breaking clarity, Dad. My expression must have betrayed my thoughts because Raiden laughed again.

  "Don’t worry," he said, ruffling my hair with a playful roughness. "We’ll work on it when you’re ready."

  As the weeks went on—although Hevalis told me not to—I had secretly continued refining my manaheart, though the process had become far more complicated.

  After my awakening, my manaheart had shifted into the Dawn stage, its faint silver now having a pale peach glow, tinged with a fiery intensity that seemed to pulse with more energy than my body could handle.

  Every attempt at mana refinement felt like walking a tightrope, the strain sharp and unrelenting. The over-release of mana, something I had come to understand through trial and error, often left me breathless and weak.

  I had even dared to experiment with my air magic, though the results were… less than encouraging. A simple attempt to guide the breeze through my fingertips left my chest tight, my manaheart throbbing with pain as if it were warning me to stop.

  Once, after an ambitious effort to summon a small gust, I collapsed to the floor, my breaths shallow and my vision blurred.

  "Never again," I muttered through clenched teeth, though I knew I was lying to myself. The allure of progress was too strong.

  Despite my stubbornness, I had begun to notice something frustrating; my mana refinement was slowing. No matter how carefully I focused, it was as if I’d hit a ceiling, unable to push past it. I could feel the mana flowing through me, eager and abundant, but my body simply wasn’t ready to keep up.

  Perhaps my manaheart is too far ahead of my physical limitations, I thought bitterly during one of my meditative sessions. The realization was infuriating. Progress, once intoxicating, now felt like trying to climb a mountain with weights tied to my ankles.

  Still, I pressed on, finding small victories where I could, and even if my body rebelled, I refused to let it deter me completely. I’ll catch up eventually, I told myself, and when I do, nothing will hold me back.

  Helena, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of energy and determination. Coming to terms with her newfound water magic hadn’t been easy for her. At first, controlling it seemed nearly impossible. The puddles she accidentally summoned soaked everything in sight, and more than once, I was the unintended target of a sudden splash.

  "Helena!" Elara’s exasperated voice often echoed through the house. "Not indoors!"

  "I didn’t mean to!" Helena would shout back, her cheeks puffed in indignation, her small hands balled into fists of frustration. There were days when tears welled up in her purple eyes, especially after yet another failed attempt to form even a single tendril of water. Her silver-white hair often clung to her cheeks from exertion as she sat cross-legged, staring at her palms with fierce determination.

  Despite the chaos and setbacks, her growth was undeniable. Raiden had stepped in to guide her, teaching her control with infinite patience. Watching him kneel beside her, his large hands gently guiding her smaller ones, was an unexpected side of him I hadn’t seen before. "Helena," he’d say, his tone steady but encouraging, "focus on the flow, not the force. Water is persistent, it doesn’t need to rush."

  Helena, for her part, took to the lessons with boundless energy, though success was often fleeting. One particularly eventful day, she attempted to summon a water stream and instead ended up drenching both of us entirely. The water clung to my hair and trickled down my back in icy rivulets.

  "Hel!" I sputtered, wiping water from my face. "What are you trying to do, drown me?"

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  Her laughter rang out, her hair plastered to her face. "You looked funny, Em! Like a wet cat!"

  I rolled my eyes, attempting to wring out my soaked clothes. "For the record, this is not how I imagined getting soaked by a girl."

  Her laughter stopped abruptly, her face scrunching up in confusion. "What does that even mean?"

  I shook my head quickly. "Never mind. Forget I said anything." Internally, I groaned.

  Why did that even cross my mind? She’s a child. And now I’m thinking like some creepy old man.

  But Helena’s progress couldn’t be ignored. By the third month, she had mastered forming tendrils of water with surprising precision, and by the sixth, she could weave two spells together with ease.

  "Watch this!" she said one afternoon, her eyes alight with concentration. Her voice carried a confidence that was infectious.

  "Aqua Minima, unda moveat! Ripple!"

  "Aqua Singula, fer hostem! Droplet!"

  She guided a swirling orb of water through the air before splitting it into two streams that circled Raiden and me. Her hands trembled slightly as she maintained control, but the determination in her gaze didn’t falter.

  Raiden’s eyebrows rose. "You’re a natural," he murmured, almost to himself, before ruffling her hair with a broad grin. "Keep practicing, and you’re going to be a great water mage!"

  Helena turned to me with a grin that could rival the sun. "See? Papa thinks I’m amazing! What do you think, Em?"

  I smirked. "I think if you make me wet one more time, I’ll take your ‘amazing’ title for myself."

  She stuck out her tongue, but the warmth of her laughter made the jab worth it. Watching her through her training had become one of my favorite parts of the past six months. Though she didn’t always listen, her determination was infectious, and seeing her flourish reminded me of why I pushed so hard to grow stronger myself.

  Now, we were preparing for a special milestone, Helena’s fifth birthday. I realized that in this world, birthdays weren’t celebrated annually as they had been in my old life. Instead, they were marked in five-year intervals, a tradition that seemed tied to the significance of the Awakening age. A fifth birthday was a grand affair, signifying growth, strength, and new beginnings.

  As Helena’s big day approached, the house was alive with activity. Elara was busy baking a small but fragrant birthday cake, the scent of vanilla and honey wafting through the air. Raiden and I worked together to decorate the yard with colorful ribbons and wildflowers we had gathered from the fields. The warmth of the sun setting and the gentle rustle of the breeze made the preparations feel all the more joyful.

  "Mom, do you think she’ll like it?" I asked as I watched her carefully frost the cake.

  "She’ll love it," she replied with a soft smile, her black eyes shining with anticipation. "It’s not every day you turn five."

  That night, before her birthday, the excitement reached a new level of chaos when Helena, in a burst of playful energy, managed to drench both herself and me with her water magic.

  "Hel!" I shouted again, my clothes clinging to me uncomfortably. "What was that for? You're always wetting me."

  Helena giggled, her hair dripping water onto the floor. "I'm sorry, Em, you looked like you needed to cool off!"

  Before I could retort, Elara appeared in the doorway, her hands on her hips. "Both of you need a bath now," she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. "Helena, take your brother with you and clean up."

  I froze. A bath? With her? My mind raced.

  It’s just Hel. No big deal. Right? But the thought of being naked in the same tub as another girl made my face flush with embarrassment.

  What if she sees… My inner turmoil deepened. She’s going to see how small I am. This is humiliating.

  At the same time, an unbidden thought crossed my mind. But I’ll be naked with a girl… I immediately cringed. What is wrong with me? She’s my sister! Am I some kind of perverted reincarnation?

  Helena, oblivious to my internal struggle, grabbed my hand and dragged me toward the bathroom, her giggles echoing through the house. "Come on, Em! It’ll be fun!"

  Fun? I thought bitterly. This is going to be the most awkward experience of my life.

  As the warm water enveloped us, I couldn’t help but notice how serene Helena looked, her silver-white hair slicked back and her eyes closed in quiet enjoyment. The soft splashing of the water echoed in the small bathroom, mingling with the faint scent of lavender soap. It was oddly peaceful—at least for her.

  For me, the situation was anything but calming. Sitting so close to her, sharing such an intimate moment, felt strange. Yet, as I watched her hum softly to herself, I realized something I hadn’t fully admitted before. Her presence had a way of soothing me, her laughter bringing a lightness to my chest I hadn’t known I was missing.

  She really does bring joy into this life, my gaze lingering on her delicate features.

  The innocence in her expression, the carefree way she played with the water; it was a stark contrast to the grim memories of my previous life. I never thought I’d feel something like this. Happiness. Peace. A reason to smile.

  “Em! Stop staring at me like that,” Helena suddenly piped up, her cheeks tinged with a soft blush, splashing water in my direction.

  I blinked, my face heating up as I tried to think of a retort. “I wasn’t staring,” I lied, wiping the water off my face.

  “You were too! You’re such a weirdo,” she teased, sticking her tongue out.

  Helena quickly turned her back toward me with a little huff, her silver?white hair swishing as if to shield her face from any more of my staring. But the motion revealed something else—something I hadn’t seen before.

  Just along the upper right side of her back, just below her shoulder blade where the bone curved gently beneath her skin, was a mark.

  It wasn’t a simple blot of colour. At first glance, yes—anyone might have mistaken it for a normal birthmark. But the longer I looked, the more wrong that assumption felt.

  The mark formed an incomplete circular shape, its crescent curve built from sharp, angular interwoven lines. The skin there was faintly raised, textured in a way that didn’t look natural.

  Not scarred… but etched, as if the mark had been pressed or burned into her skin long before she ever knew the world.

  Should I ask her what happened? Helena didn’t seem bothered by it, didn’t even notice me looking.

  Strange.

  Before I could study it further, Helena splashed water at me again. “Stop staring at my back now, weirdo!” she snapped, cheeks pink as she twisted around to glare at me.

  I jerked my gaze away immediately. “I wasn’t! I was just—uh—looking at the wall.”

  I rolled my eyes, but a small smile crept onto my lips despite myself. “You’re lucky you’re my sister,” I said, leaning back against the tub.

  “Lucky?” she echoed, raising an eyebrow. “I think you’re the lucky one! I’m the best sister ever!”

  “Sure, keep telling yourself that,” I muttered, but the warmth in my voice betrayed my words. Helena’s grin widened, and for a moment, the awkwardness faded, replaced by the simple joy of being together.

  The next morning marked the celebration of Helena’s fifth birthday, a milestone steeped in significance. As the sun rose, filling the house with golden light and casting long, warm beams through the windows, the air seemed to buzz with excitement and joy. The faint chirping of birds outside added to the lively atmosphere, their songs carrying a melody of cheer.

  "Happy Birthday, Hel!" I shouted, rushing to her side and wrapping her in a tight hug. Her laughter was like a melody, pure and joyful, and as I held her close, I felt an overwhelming warmth.

  This is happiness, savoring the moment.

  Elara emerged from the kitchen, carrying a freshly baked cake, its delicate aroma of vanilla and honey filling the air and mingling with the scent of wildflowers adorning the table. The cake itself was a modest masterpiece, with a perfectly golden crust and a light, creamy frosting that glistened in the morning light.

  "Happy Birthday, my little star," she said, setting the cake on the table adorned with vibrant ribbons and wildflowers Raiden and I had gathered from the fields. Helena’s eyes sparkled as she looked at the simple yet heartfelt display.

  Raiden clapped a hand on her shoulder, grinning proudly. "Five years old already, huh? Soon, you’ll be outpacing me with that water magic of yours."

  Helena beamed, her cheeks flushed with delight. "I’ll try, Papa! But you’re really strong, so maybe not yet."

  The warmth of the sun bathed us as laughter filled the room, and for a brief moment, the world felt utterly perfect.

  Later in the day, Hevalis arrived as promised, his old, wise eyes scanning each of us with a knowing gaze. Dressed in his usual flowing robes, he carried a worn satchel slung over one shoulder.

  "I heard there’s a birthday girl here," he announced with a warm smile, stepping inside and nodding at Raiden and Elara. "And I suspect there’s also a certain young man who needs another check-up."

  My eyes widened as Hevalis turned his attention to me, a playful glint in his gaze.

  Who the hell invited him to the party? My expression betrayed my annoyance.

  From his satchel, Hevalis retrieved a polished wooden stick adorned with a faintly glowing blue crystal affixed to its tip. He handed it to Helena, his expression gentle yet deliberate.

  "This, my dear, is a wand," he said. "It’s a mage’s weapon, crafted to help beginners hone their magic. With this, you’ll find it easier to channel your mana and focus your spells. Use it wisely, Helena, and get stronger."

  Helena’s eyes widened in awe as she clutched the wand, her hair catching the light as she turned it over in her hands. "Thank you, Hevalis!" she exclaimed, her voice brimming with excitement. "It’s beautiful!"

  I observed the exchange, with a flicker of curiosity. What is that crystal, studying the glowing blue gem. Its light pulsed faintly, almost as if it had a heartbeat of its own.

  Sensing my intrigue, Hevalis turned toward me with a knowing smile. "That is a mana crystal," he explained, "it is a conduit for magic. Mages can draw mana from it, mainly used by Reservists."

  I nodded, filing the information away. A conduit for mana… I wonder if I’ll need one someday, or if my magic will work differently.

  The room felt warmer, almost glowing with the energy of shared happiness as Helena clutched her wand tightly, her excitement evident in her every movement. Raiden and Elara exchanged proud smiles, their joy infectious.

  "Thank you for coming, Hevalis," Elara said, her tone filled with genuine gratitude. "It means a lot to us."

  Hevalis chuckled, waving her off. "Anything for the Valenharts. Now, let’s see how our young prodigies are faring."

  After a series of fluid, deliberate motions with his hands glowing faintly blue, Hevalis channelled his water magic, the air around him growing cooler as the soft hum of mana filled the room.

  He explained to Elara and Raiden how his water magic allowed him to heal and detect any imbalances or illnesses in the body. "It’s like listening to the rhythm of their life force," he said, his voice calm yet precise. "Both Helena and Emrys are much better than I anticipated. It actually reminds me of a young boy I treated over a decade ago. He had an extraordinary resilience and an affinity to fire magic and grew up to be incredibly strong. Their recovery is remarkable."

  As he packed away, Hevalis paused by my side. Leaning closer, he whispered, "I can sense your manaheart... it’s at the Dawn stage, something unheard of for a child your age. Such power is a gift, but even the greatest gifts can bear the heaviest burdens. I suggest not practicing any magic until you reach the Awakening age. Even then, it could prove challenging. Your manaheart, while remarkable, is fragile in its current state, and pushing it too far could have serious consequences. Tread carefully, little boy."

  His words sent a ripple of unease through me, but before I could respond, Hevalis straightened and addressed the room with a warm smile. "I’ll take my leave now. Thank you for your hospitality, as always."

  Elara stepped forward, her gratitude evident in her eyes. "Thank you, Hevalis. Your help means more to us than you know."

  Raiden nodded firmly. "Safe travels, old friend."

  As Hevalis exited, I remained rooted to the spot, his words echoing in my mind.

  What does this mean for me? My thoughts raced, weaving through fragments of memory and possibility.

  I couldn't help but glance at Helena, who was happily showing off her birthday gifts, as she laughed with unfiltered joy. Despite my lingering doubts, her laughter was like a balm to my unease.

  Whatever it takes, I resolved, I’ll figure this out.