A heavy silence settled over the warm and colorful room, dimming the glow of the enchanted orbs that floated lazily overhead. Lilia cradled her teacup, staring into its depths as if searching for words within the dregs of her drink. Finally, with a quiet sigh, she set it down.

  "That... is not an easy subject to speak about." Her voice, usually filled with light wit or scholarly amusement, took on a somber edge. She folded her hands in her lap, her fingers idly tracing the runes on her gloves. "If you ask me, Soul-Weapons are Lumeria’s greatest and cruelest creation."

  Raven straightened at her words, exchanging a glance with Mary before turning back to Lilia. "Cruelest?"

  Lilia nodded. "Each Soul-Weapon carries the soul of a powerful Sorcerer."

  Raven glanced at Shadebinder, still resting on the table. Though the sword hadn’t moved, he could almost sense a reaction—something tense, unsettled. His brow furrowed. "But... why?"

  Lilia’s lips pressed into a thin line. "To claim their power." She let the words hang in the air before continuing. "Sorcerers wielded their gifts with ease, bending the world to their will without relying on magic formulas or external sources. Their abilities were raw, unfiltered... and impossible to replicate through ordinary means. The scholars of old saw this. They envied it."

  She leaned back in her seat, gazing at the hanging lights above them. "Or at least, that is the leading theory. The process that turned them into weapons stripped away most of their memories—whether by accident or by cruel design, we may never know."

  Raven hesitated, then reached out, resting a hand near the hilt of Shadebinder. "Shadebinder... is that true?"

  A quiet hum echoed in his mind before Shadebinder’s voice answered.

  Well, I doubt my mother would have named me Shadebinder.

  The voice was light, almost teasing, but beneath it lay something unreadable.

  But seriously... I don’t remember much of my life before this form. Only fragments, mostly tied to my abilities.

  Raven exhaled, feeling the weight of that revelation settle in his chest. "That’s... awful," he murmured. "Is there any way to free them?"

  Lilia’s expression softened, but there was a deep sadness in her eyes. "As far as we know, there isn’t." She shook her head. "Not even those who tried to destroy them ever succeeded. Soul-Weapons are impervious to time and damage."

  Shadebinder’s voice returned, more chipper this time.

  But let’s not dwell on the past. No use crying over spilled milk—let’s focus on a joyful future instead!

  Lilia chuckled, though it was brief. "Fortunately, in Mornhollow, there exists a royal decree that Soul-Weapons must be treated with dignity. More importantly, they are given the right to choose their wielder."

  Shadebinder hummed thoughtfully.

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  Wait... if I have the right to choose, then why did Aira insist Raven keep me a secret?

  Lilia sighed, rubbing her temple. "Because, as you are now, Raven, you wouldn’t be seen as the best choice."

  Raven frowned. "Best choice?"

  Lilia nodded. "It’s not about fairness, but practicality. While many noble houses respect Soul-Weapons, they also understand their power. Some would see an unknown wielder as a risk—someone untested, unproven." She hesitated for a moment before adding, "And there are a few who might be... ambitious enough to try and take Shadebinder for themselves."

  Raven felt a chill run down his spine.

  Mary spoke up, her voice reassuring. "That doesn’t mean everyone is out to get you. Most of the houses follow the decree, and many would simply watch and wait to see what you’ll become. But if you aren’t careful, there might be those who try to challenge your claim."

  Lilia nodded. "Aira likely wanted to avoid drawing too much attention to you before you’ve had a chance to establish yourself."

  Raven let that sink in. It wasn’t outright hostility... but it was still a dangerous position to be in.

  He took a breath. "Then... what is Aira’s plan? She told me she needed my help with something."

  Lilia arched a brow. "She said that?"

  Mary chimed in, "She did."

  Lilia tapped a gloved finger against her armrest, lost in thought. A quiet hum escaped her lips.

  Then, with a small flick of her wrist, the floating teapot lifted again. Raven watched in fascination as it glided smoothly across the room to a nearby basin. Water poured from a brass spout, filling it to the brim before it gently landed back onto the circular iron stovetop. A mechanism beneath it shifted, causing the iron to glow faintly with heat.

  "I’ll... ask her about it later," Lilia murmured.

  Raven bit the inside of his cheek. "You said Soul-Weapons are treated with care... but is that just out of kindness, or is there another reason?"

  Lilia turned back to him, her scholarly tone returning. "Because Sorcery does not draw from mana like traditional magic. It feeds on the Sorcerer’s own life essence." She gave him a measured look. "Overuse causes fatigue, and pushing too far can be dangerous. Most Sorcerers pass out long before it reaches a fatal point, but there are stories of those who pushed beyond their limits... and never woke up."

  Raven stiffened.

  "Soul-Weapons, however, retain that essence from their past lives. They can share it with their wielder, offering strength beyond human limits."

  Raven’s mind raced. "Then... that explains what I felt in the wilds when I first met Shadebinder." That unnatural surge of clarity. That fleeting, undeniable power.

  Lilia gave him a knowing nod. She returned to the counter, beginning to wash the teacups with quiet efficiency.

  "It’s getting late," she remarked over her shoulder. "How about the two of you head to the mess hall for dinner?" She finished rinsing the last cup before turning back to them. "Raven, I teach Mary from the first day of the week to the fifth. During that time, I’ll also teach you our tongue. That should help you understand the world better."

  Raven blinked, surprised at the offer. "I have no objections."

  "Good." Lilia dried her hands with a small towel, then cast a glance at Mary. "Don’t forget to show Raven to his guest room afterward."

  Mary nodded.

  Raven tilted his head. "You’re not coming to dinner?"

  Lilia huffed. "Neither Cedric nor Aira is here, so I see no reason to suffer the cold just to dine in that grand hall." She stretched her arms with a pleased sigh. "No, I’ll just have them bring my meal here. Much cozier."

  A small chuckle escaped Mary as she grabbed her coat. "That sounds like you."

  Lilia smirked. "Have a good evening."

  Raven, Mary, and Shadebinder replied in unison, "Good evening."

  Raven adjusted Shadebinder at his side. With their coats in hand, he and Mary stepped into the fortress halls, making their way toward the mess hall. As they walked, Raven’s thoughts swirled, heavy with everything he had just learned.

  Soul-Weapons. Sorcery. The fate of those trapped within.

  And above all... the unknown path Aira had set him on.