The next morning came as usual. The ceilings, the floor, the walls, everything was the same. Yet Vierna could not shake the feeling that today would not be a normal day. She had woken from the same nightmare again: someone calling to her. Ever since she had stumbled upon Albrecht’s past by accident, part of her mind seemed determined to make her remember what she had long forgotten. Faces and fragments surfaced, but never clearly enough. It was like trying to solve a puzzle without pictures; she recognized the pieces, but when put together they made no sense.
Refusing to be idle, Vierna opened her book. She was always awake earlier than everyone else. This morning she studied a manual on swordsmanship, on how to wield her espada de lado more effectively. The blade was not built for brute strength; it demanded grace and precision. The text explained where to strike, which places were lethal, and which would only disable. Occasionally she stood and practiced the forms, repeating each movement with care.
She refused to let her mind wander, refused to drift toward the shadows she could not name.
The past won’t help me. The present and the future are what matter, she told herself, half-convinced. Yet the mind was a peculiar thing. The harder she tried to cage it, the more it struggled to escape.
Not long after, the rune chimed, signaling the start of their day. Lina stirred awake, still half-asleep.
“Vierna… didn’t you sleep…?” she mumbled.
“I did, but something woke me up. I just practiced a little,” Vierna said, still swinging her sword.
“Ohh… well, uhmmm, I want to take a bath. You coming?”
“Sure, Lin. Let’s go.”
The pair bathed together, chatting here and there, but the rhythm was off. Vierna only responded, never initiating. Lina could half-guess what weighed on her mind, but chose not to press. Instead she tried to distract her with jokes or idle talk. Vierna did her best to play along, though it was clear her thoughts wandered elsewhere.
They continued preparing themselves afterward. Normally, a handler would have entered by now to take them to the day’s training, but today was different.
“Where are they?” Vierna asked.
“Don’t know. It’s strange.”
“…”
“Well, doing nothing won’t make them come faster. Let’s read something instead.”
By now Lina had changed; some of Vierna’s reading habits had rubbed off on her. She focused on a book about Grace, since Albrecht had been emphasizing her mana. It was a little self-study, guided only by the text. Books on Grace were difficult—the Imperium filled them with empty praise rather than practical instruction, more worship than understanding. Lina had to piece things together slowly, with Vierna helping to interpret where she could, though it was still hard.
“I should ask the Arkmarschall or Albrecht to find an Imperium defector who can actually teach me about this.”
“Well, we can ask Herr Halwen to propose it to the Arkmarschall.”
“Yeah. Remind me later.”
Lina had been so consumed by mana training that she had neglected the Grace aspect. It was only now, with this unexpected free time, that the thought struck her to correct it.
Not long after Lina had gone with the handler, another arrived—but this time they called only for her. Vierna felt a pang of concern. This was unnatural yet there was nothing she could do.
Hours passed. By now the procedure was usually finished, yet no one came for her.
As anxiety began to grip her chest, she decided to step outside and ask what was happening. Just as she reached the door, it opened from the other side. Herr Halwen stood there.
“Apologies for the delay, Vierna. Your procedure today is a bit more complex, and I needed to make some adjustments.”
“It’s okay, Herr Halwen. Should I go now?”
“Yes. Follow me. And don’t worry, Vierna—after today’s procedure you should be able to cast internally.”
Her eyes widened slightly, hope sparking in them, and she followed Halwen.
The room she entered was unlike the usual chamber. It was sterile, walls washed in pale white light, every surface lined with etched runes that pulsed faintly in rhythm.
She admired the intricate patterns, though she recognized only fragments of their meaning.
What truly caught her attention, however, was the chair at the center. Straps coiled across its arms and legs, metal needles lay neatly on a tray beside it, and a head bracket curved over the top, designed to lock a person’s skull in place.
“Let me explain what is going to happen,” Halwen said. “Your mind is subconsciously blocking a part of your memory—one that causes deep internal conflict. That conflict is preventing you from pouring your full intent into internally casting the Eidrecht spell.”
“You may recall fragments.” Halwen continued, “but the block is too strong. Fragments are not enough. We need the whole memory, in its entirety, if we are to understand and resolve what holds you back. To reach it, we must stimulate the brain directly. By piercing it with these needles and applying the proper spells, we can bypass the block. At the same time, another spell will let the needles project your memory—not only as images, but with sound, scent, and sensation. To us, it will be as if we are reliving your past alongside you.”
Vierna’s gaze drifted toward the instruments, then quickly away. Her hands folded and unfolded at her sides, restless, as if gripping something unseen might steady her. The silence stretched longer than it should have, her eyes fixed on nothing. Halwen noticed the way her shoulders drew in, the subtle hitch of her breath. He read it for what it was—not fear of pain, but of what the unknown might uncover. Memories carried weight, and perhaps she dreaded most the pity that might follow once they were laid bare.
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“Do not worry,” Halwen reassured her. “There will only be myself and Arkmarschall Leopold.”
“Arkmarschall?”
“Yes. He is the best Psychomancer we have. Looking deeply into memory carries risk, so the Arkmarschall has chosen to oversee it personally.”
The fact that Leopold himself would be involved dissolved all of Vierna’s hesitation. If someone as important as the Arkmarschall would handle her case personally, then then there was no time for hesitation.
“Thank you, Herr Halwen. But may I request something?”
“Of course.”
“Please let Lina be here. I want her to know who I truly am.”
The words left her before she could second-guess them. Despite the knot of fear in her chest, fear that whatever surfaced might twist the way Lina saw her, Vierna felt she owed this. Lina had already bared her own past, and that trust weighed on her like a debt she needed to repay.
“I will need to confirm it with the Arkmarschall.”
Not long after, Leopold entered the room, cold and precise as ever. Halwen relayed Vierna’s request. Leopold considered for a moment, then said there was no problem. Halwen nodded and left to fetch Lina.
“Vierna,” Leopold said.
“Yes, Arkmarschall?”
“After this, you will be whole.”
“Yes, Arkmarschall. Thank you.”
Soon Halwen returned with Lina at his side. Apparently Lina’s own procedure that day had been light.
“Hey, Lin.”
“Hey, Vierna. What’s going on?”
“You remember when you told me about your past? I want to do the same now. So please stay, and know the whole me.”
Lina gave a small smile. “Okay. Hang in there, alright?”
“Sure.”
Halwen cleared his throat. “I must warn you, Lina. This is not easy to watch. You may step out during the preparation and return once the spell shows her memories. The first stages can be… difficult.”
“No. I want to be here for Vierna, Uncle. From beginning to end.”
Halwen looked to Leopold. The Arkmarschall only gave a small nod of approval.
“Very well. Vierna, go to the chair.”
Vierna obeyed. Halwen’s telekinesis tightened the restraints around her wrists and ankles, securing her in place. Leopold raised his hand, casting a spell that sterilized the air with a sharp hum.
Then came the part that made her throat tighten—the cold iron of the bracket lowering to fix her skull in place.
Leopold formed a blade-shaped spell in his hand. Once the construct solidified, he drew it across Vierna’s scalp. Pale strands fell away until nothing remained; she was left completely bald. With a steady gesture, Leopold released another incantation.
“Color of Souls: Ash Gray.”
A shimmer passed over her body. Her aura dimmed into a lifeless gray, as if sensation itself had been drained away. The restraints no longer pressed against her skin, her heartbeat no longer raced. Pain, fear, even the dread of what was to come dissolved into nothing. Vierna sat still in the chair, emptied, numb.
Halwen leaned closer, his voice measured. “You must remain awake for this, Vierna. Even with spells, memory recall works best when the subject is conscious. We will be guiding you through fragments, asking you to focus where needed. If you were asleep, we could only glimpse scattered echoes. Awake, we can reach the truth directly.”
“I understand, Herr Halwen,” Vierna said.
“Good.”
Halwen’s hands glowing with precise, surgical light. From his fingertips extended a scalpel of condensed mana, thin as a hair and sharp enough to divide atoms. He pressed it to the crown of Vierna’s skull. There was no sound, no pain—her aura still muted ash gray—but the sight was unflinching. Flesh parted in a clean line, and with a steady hand he peeled it back. Beneath, the pale dome of bone emerged under the sterile glow.
He whispered a stabilizing charm, then cut again. The magical edge scored the bone, tracing a circle with cold precision. A faint hiss rose as the runes sealed bleeding before it could begin. With a twist of his wrist, the segment of skull lifted free, suspended in telekinetic grip.
For Lina, the moment was unbearable. She saw what lay beneath: the glistening folds of Vierna’s brain, pink and slick in the light. The organ pulsed gently with every heartbeat, alive, exposed, vulnerable. Vierna’s eyes stayed open. The spell left her with no fear, no disgust—only a stillness that made the scene more unreal.
“You hanging in there, Vierna?” Halwen asked.
“Yes, Herr Halwen.”
“Does it hurt?”
“No.”
“Good. Prepare for the next part.”
Leopold raised his hand, and eight needles lifted smoothly into the air under his telekinesis. They were long and slender, each one the length of a finger, forged of polished silver etched with fine runes spiraling down their shafts. The tips gleamed unnaturally sharp. As they floated above the tray, their runes pulsed faintly, casting a cold light that reflected across the sterile walls of the chamber.
Each needle aligned itself toward a different region of the exposed brain, hovering with unnerving intent. Two angled for the frontal lobe, the seat of decision and focus; another hovered above the temporal fold where memory was most deeply housed. Others hung over the parietal ridge and occipital crest, mapping a lattice across thought, vision, and sensation. It was a cartography of the mind, drawn not in ink but in steel and spellcraft.
With uncanny precision, the needles descended and stabbed into Vierna’s brain, slipping in as smoothly as a key turning in a lock. The runes along their shafts flared as they settled into place, each one humming with restrained power. Vierna’s eyes blinked with every puncture, an involuntary twitch marking each stab.
Leopold did not comment, but his expression left no doubt—this was exactly what he had expected. It was not that Vierna felt anything at all; the spell had stripped her of sensation. The blinking came only because the needles touched regions of the brain that forced the body to respond, reflexes written into her nerves.
The sight was too much. Watching her friend’s exposed brain pierced again and again finally broke Lina’s composure. She turned aside and vomited onto the sterile floor, retching helplessly.
Vierna’s eyes shifted toward her, but her expression remained unchanged, flat and calm, as if what was happening were no different from a routine meal.
As the last needle settled into place, Leopold raised his hand and uttered another incantation.
“Spiegel der Seele.” (Mirror of the Soul.)
The needles shivered in response, their runes pulsing brighter. A thin beam of pale light streamed from each shaft, converging into a single point before spilling outward onto the blank white board across the room. At first it was only distortion—shadows, static, meaningless swirls. Then the projection deepened, resolving like an image dragged up from deep water.
But it was not merely an image. The chamber itself seemed to twist, bending into her memory. The faint tang of smoke clung to the air, the scrape of footsteps echoed faintly at the edges of hearing, and even the chill that once brushed Vierna’s skin seemed to crawl across their own. What she had seen, heard, smelled, and felt now seeped into the room, until it was as though all present were wearing her senses, forced to stand where she had once stood.
It was Vierna’s vision. The world as her eyes had once seen it, projected for all to witness.
Leopold’s hand moved again. With a flick of his fingers, a small device materialized beside him—a lacquered box with a thin pendulum fixed above it, and a tiny brass bell mounted at its tip. He set it down, and the pendulum began to swing. With every arc it struck the bell, filling the sterile chamber with a hollow chime.
The sound carried a strange weight. Each note echoed too long, as if the air itself refused to let it go. The rhythm threaded into the room, foreign yet insistent, pressing into ears and bones alike.
Vierna’s expression grew serene. She drifted into that fragile state between full consciousness and unconsciousness, balanced on the edge of both.
From behind the glass, Lina forced herself to keep watching. Vierna’s face gave nothing away, dulled by the spell, but Lina would not look away. If Vierna could not feel, then at least she could see—see that someone was still here, still standing with her, as a friend should in their hardest hour.
“Vierna,” Leopold said, “what did you do yesterday at seven in the evening?”
She did not answer, but the image shifted. It showed her exactly where she had been: finishing her training with Albrecht, preparing for dinner.
The preparation was complete. Now they could ask directly.
“Vierna, show us the time before orphanage.”
The projection wavered, then reshaped again.
As usual, comment, favorite, and rate if you fancy the story so far.
Whats the first thing we going to see in Vierna's memory?
