Vierenna stood behind Deon's closed door, her back to it, as her thoughts surged and receded through certain memories and ideas.
She wanted to stay—to interrogate him more, to uncover more secrets, both out of her own curiosity and to prevent herself from doing something she might regret later. But for that very reason, she had to leave.
The longer Deon spoke, the more she felt herself losing her composure, and a coldness—the bad kind of cold—was creeping into her thoughts. So Vierenna had to retreat. If she had stayed any longer, she didn't know what direction her actions might have taken. But most likely, it would have been a downward spiral—and a sharp one at that.
Vierenna wiped the corners of her eyes with her finger, feeling a thin crust crumble and melt at her touch.
In truth, she had almost cried back there, but the tears had frozen in her eyes before they could fully fall.
Her tears were nothing more than an honest reaction to Deon's insane story. She would have preferred them to be tears of laughter, but what he had told her was far too real to dismiss as a ridiculous joke.
The details in his story were incomplete upon closer inspection—most likely intentionally on his part. But Vierenna understood that there were things one simply wouldn't say, whether due to inability or for other reasons.
Despite everything, she still found it in her heart to appreciate his gesture of honesty—though, for once, she wished she hadn't. If he had lied to her, it would have been much better. But the truth could not be denied. Somehow, it had defied time and logic in its inevitability.
Taking a deep breath to steady her thoughts, Vierenna started putting distance between herself and Deon's room, heading toward her own quarters.
On her way, she found herself thinking about Deon's words again. What he was trying to say was that he wasn't her brother—that he was merely this person named Walid who had found himself in her brother's place.
If she were to judge based solely on his behavior over the past few days, then yes, this Walid's actions did not match those of the Deon she knew.
The Deon she had grown up with was never a quiet person—except in rare cases, like when he was under pressure or being scolded by their mother.
But this new Deon from the past few days was the complete opposite. He carried an aura of calm around him, like a drifting cloud in the wind.
However, that air of calmness also served as a veil over his intentions, as he almost always wore an unchanging, uninterested expression. Like a cloud, truly.
But there was one thing that didn't add up in all of this.
If this current Deon was truly someone from another world—and it was still a ridiculous claim—then how did he know so much about this one?
Vierenna didn't know, and she didn't have an answer.
She would demand one.
But not now.
Vierenna reached her room on the floor above—her room was above Deon's. She closed the door behind her and positioned herself amid the sheets on her bed; it was still night.
She opened her eyes to the silvery moonlight that shone softly through the delicate window glass. The chaotic swirl of her emotions began to take on a form.
Vierenna also thought about her mother's warnings regarding her brother Deon and about the change he was undergoing—a change for which she wasn't fully prepared. Even though her mother had warned her to be ready, there was still so much to bear inside.
"How hard must it have been for Deon?" she whispered to herself, wondering.
She started to connect the dots between what she had learned from both Deon and her mother, trying to create a middle ground where logic had been hidden. In the end, Vierenna found some sense in the situation, though the situation itself was maddeningly absurd—so absurd, in fact, that the logic applying to it was of little help. Yet a few things stood out.
One of them was something her mother had said. She had said, "You must be strong when he regains what he once was..." The words, of course, referred to Deon. The meaning was that one day Deon would truly regain what he had been. But which Deon would that be? The Deon she had grown up with, or the Deon who had just left his room?
Vierenna did not know—and worse, she did not know what to expect. But one thing she was completely sure of was that Deon was still her baby brother.
How did Vierenna know this with such certainty? Because she was inherently gifted in Soul Magic—one of her three innate talents. But that alone was not enough. Alongside her Soul Magic, she possessed Soul Sight—a rare skill that even outshined talents such as Sword Sense, Mana Sense, and several others. Her mother had even warned her not to speak of possessing that skill publicly.
Soul Sight granted her the ability to track the patterns of souls, and her innate connection to Soul Magic made that vision clearer, with a touch of understanding for the souls of others. Because of that, among all people, she was the one who could see if a person's soul changed. And it was precisely for that reason that she was sure her brother's soul had not been replaced or harmed. She was certain of it.
Vierenna had been periodically monitoring her brother's soul ever since the moment he awoke. The reasons were twofold: she feared that her brother might contract their mother's chronic illness—a disease that gnaws at mana. In the first seven stages of a mage's development, the disease remains dormant. Yet that dormancy does not mean the disease does not progress. The mana-eating disease is an extension of the afflicted mana; as the individual grows as a mage, the disease develops in tandem. And after the seventh stage, the disease awakens to begin its torment. It leaves its host no chance to evolve on their own, for it evolves with them, and it will not allow them to remain dormant—because it will literally eat them alive from within.
The two evils have never been sweeter in their words. The only way to deal with the disease definitively is to catch it very early.
Vierenna's fear that her brother might contract their mother's illness was not the only reason she kept watch over his soul. Another reason was to better understand how his training was progressing and how far he had come. This allowed her to point out the flaws in his training every time he asked for her advice—or whenever she noticed the mistakes in his methods (which, admittedly, were sometimes embarrassing)—and to guide him toward the optimal path each time.
For these reasons, Vierenna was convinced that the possibility of her brother's soul being replaced was highly unlikely—no, it was impossible. She thought that might have happened sometime before her own awakening, years ago. But she dismissed that possibility. The changes in Deon's behavior had only been evident in the past few days, as he himself had admitted. Moreover, Vierenna did not feel that he was lying, as she could sense truth from falsehood.
Nevertheless, Vierenna still decided that she needed to be even more certain—though that would have to wait for later.
Her mind then turned to other possibilities—such as memory loss, a type of psychological condition, or something along those lines. But she did not believe any of that. And her mother's words were enough evidence. If it were true, then how had her mother known, years before today?
There was one more thing Vierenna did not know.
She closed her eyes, mirroring the round shape of the moon, and rolled over to gaze at the ceiling of her room.
Despite all she had learned today, the intentions behind the situation still remained hidden from her. And the same, she concluded, went for Deon.
Vierenna tried to imagine in her mind how she would interact with Deon tomorrow, but her mind rejected the idea. She didn't know how she was supposed to act.
'I need some time apart… some time to think!' Vierenna thought, frowning slightly.
She did not like the idea of being apart from her brother. The only reason she was with him here in the capital and not in the main house was because she wanted her brother by her side.
But she had to admit that she needed some time away from Deon, at least for a moment. Of course, she did not want him to get the idea that she would do anything to hurt him or take away his freedom, as he might think. But truly, Vierenna needed to think about herself for once.
However, going away by herself would be meaningless—or of little value—if that were the case. Vierenna had never been one to wait for information or solutions to fall from the sky; she was the one who sought them out.
So she made a decision. Away from Deon, she would use the time to further verify his words. She needed to be absolutely sure. After all, she had the matter of the lake, House de Fontaine, House Haringreen, and that Emlyn that Deon had mentioned with such jealousy. Vierenna could not pinpoint why.
The best course of action for her now was to verify something that was close at hand—like the lake—but that would defeat the purpose of her decision to leave.
So, not wanting to overwhelm herself, she decided to postpone the matter of the lake until after she returned. She planned to take a trip to the western borders—which were far, very far from the capital and her brother—and, at the same time, pay visits to both House Haringreen and House de Fontaine.
But which would she visit first? Vierenna wondered, rolling over again to face the window.
She sighed audibly, releasing all her frustrations. The darkness of the night still had its time before the sun would rise. And Vierenna could no longer simply continue to torment her mind with endless memories. She needed some sleep.
But the idea nearly made her laugh. How could she sleep?
Or at least, that's what she thought. When she finally closed her eyes in an attempt to sleep, her consciousness drifted away into a tired slumber.
The sound of her sleeping breaths was soothing only to her. The battle of will that she had been facing was surrendered to sleep for another day.
Sleep is the silent engine of human behavior. How well would Vierenna awaken tomorrow? Would sleep be the gentle healer for her, or would it transform the silence into sorrow and the distance into anger?
All Vierenna, as she slept, could do was hope for a gentler morning.