The Web of Deciet

Andre was pulled out of unconsciousness by a dull throbbing behind his eyes. Blinking, his vision blurred as he attempted to concentrate on the environment. The room was completely different from the humid cell he had remembered. Light from the sun flowed through a tall window, lighting up luxurious carpets and intricately designed furniture. Every part of his body was filled with discomfort, a throbbing ache that synchronized with his heartbeat.

He shifted his head, and his breath caught. Res Aqua was seated next to him on a cushioned chair, her face showing signs of concern. Relief washed over his face, overpowering the agony. "Res," he croaked, his voice rough.

She let out a gasp. As she leaned in, her eyes scanned his face, her hair of sapphire and emerald catching the sunlight and shimmering. "Hey, Andre?" You are awake! Thank the Jade Spirits!

He forced a feeble grin, causing a new surge of agony to course through his bruised body. "Take it easy," he rasped. "It appears that I startled everyone quite a bit."

A shape moved in the darkness close to the window. Marcus appeared, his expression inscrutable. "You certainly did, Conscript," he replied with a curt tone. "And much more than just a fright."

Andre flinched in response to the title. Are you a conscript? "I don't think so anymore."

"Marcus admitted, but his eyes stayed on Andre's altered appearance." His usual black hair and red, although a bit less vibrant than before, had replaced the demonic wings and crimson eyes that were previously there. "But who, or more precisely what are you?"

Andre breathed deeply, feeling a sharp pang in his chest from the effort. "I " he began, but then paused. How could he begin to describe the past 5 years the constant pursuit by ten different kingdoms, the overwhelming desire? It seemed like the rantings of a lunatic.

"Res," he said finally, turning to her. "Do you remember what I told you about Elian Aetheris?"

A flicker of recognition crossed her face. "Yes," she whispered, her voice barely a murmur.

Taking a deep breath, Andre decided to take a gamble. "I am Elian Aetheris," he declared, his voice firm despite the pain.

Marcus made a derisive noise, devoid of humor. "Elian Aetheris had blue eyes and brown hair." You, conscript, have black hair and red eyes.

Andre hesitated, uttering, "That's…" What explanation could he give for the change? Following the event at Arcana Academia, there was a shift in things. "I was pursued throughout the Ten Kingdoms. I was in desperation, so I agreed to a deal. A sinister deal."

He paused, uncertain about how much information to disclose. However, when he noticed Marcus's doubt, he understood the importance of being persuasive. "I utilized a... a power to transform. It enables me to reach a different shape, one with increased strength. The mysterious person who assisted me referred to it as my 'Demonic Alter Ego.'

He flinched at the final portion, the recollection of the terrifying change and the rush of unchecked strength still vivid in his thoughts. It has an impact, however. And after that, I feel exposed and defenseless.

Marcus studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "A shady individual, you say? Someone who teaches forbidden magic?" A flicker of something akin to suspicion flickered in his eyes.

"Something like that," Andre said vaguely, not wanting to elaborate on the entity from the void. "But it was the only way to survive."

Res, her brow furrowed in thought, finally spoke. "This transformation… does it explain the scream we heard last night?"

Andre grimaced, the memory sending a shiver down his spine. "Yes," he admitted. "I lose control sometimes. It's a work in progress."

Silence filled the luxurious room, dense and oppressive. Andre's revelation weighed heavily in the atmosphere. Res, her complexion lacking color and tired looking, gazed at him with a combination of fear and a feeling similar to compassion. With his golden hair standing out against the dark shadows on his face, Marcus stayed quiet while keeping his gaze fixed.

"Then why go dark?" Marcus eventually inquired, his voice subdued and laden. "If you really were Elian Aetheris, the prodigy, the shining example in Arcana Academia, why disappear completely? Why leave everything behind?"

Andre shifted uncomfortably as Marcus's stare bore into him. The question that he had been fearing. He was not able to disclose the reality of his reincarnation at this moment. There was too much on the line, too much that they wouldn't comprehend.

He took a deep breath, the movement sending a fresh wave of pain through his battered chest. "There's… there's something I haven't told you," he began, his voice hoarse. "A secret I kept even from the Academy."

Res leaned forward, a flicker of curiosity battling the fear in her eyes. "A secret?" she echoed.

"Yes," Andre continued, his voice barely above a whisper. "A secret that only one person knows… or at least, knew. I'm not sure if she's even alive anymore."

He hesitated, the weight of the revelation threatening to crush him. "I… I bear a resemblance, an uncanny one, to a man named Malachar Nightweave."

The name lingered in the atmosphere, a ghostly reminder that caused chills for Marcus and Res. They gasped in terror, the sound barely audible but saturated with primal fear. Malachar Nightweave, the Lord of Dark arts, a name spoken quietly by mages, a mysterious and feared figure. It was claimed that he was the expert in all types of forbidden magic, a being with great power and uncertain ethics.

"Malachar Nightweave?" Marcus finally managed, his voice hoarse. "You… you claim to be related to him somehow?"

Andre shook his head, causing a sharp pain in his skull. "Not indirectly connected," he clarified, his voice tense. "My grandmother used to tell me that I was an exact replica of someone she knew in the past." A person she refused to identify. "Now…" He stopped speaking, leaving the implications lingering in the atmosphere.

Res spoke softly, barely audible, shattering the tense quietness. Are you suggesting that you have some kind of connection to the Lord of Dark Arts?

Andre looked into her eyes, sensing a blend of fear and desperation swirling inside him. He confessed, his voice breaking, "I have no idea." The timing and the transformation seem too coincidental to me.

Marcus rose abruptly, his face a mask of barely contained fury. "This changes everything," he growled, pacing the room like a caged animal. "If you're truly linked to Malachar Nightweave… then the darkness you wield, this transformation… it could be a harbinger of something terrible."

Andre experienced a chilling fear descending into his stomach. He believed this was just the beginning of a much bigger problem. He was no longer just handling the task of fleeing from the Ten Kingdoms. He found himself trapped in a complex network of dark sorcery, an inheritance he never desired, and a link to a creature of such immense power and dread that speaking his name struck fear even in the greatest mages.

Before he could provide further clarification, he had to persuade them. He had to persuade them of the reality, not only of who he was, but of the peril that they were all in. The price of his desire, a price much higher than he had ever anticipated, was starting to become clear. He found himself manipulated in a game he failed to comprehend, a game determining the destiny of the Ten Kingdoms, and possibly even his own soul.

"Look, Marcus," Andre pleaded, his voice low and earnest, "I know this is a lot to take in. But trust me, I'm Elian." He ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture Marcus remembered all too well, a gesture that chipped away at his disbelief.

Res, her brow furrowed in concern, cut in. "Elian? But how? We saw you..." Her voice trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.

Andre sighed, a deep, weary sound that seemed to age him years. "That day at Arcana Academia, getting tossed around by those bullies? It wasn't Andre you saw step in, it was me. Always me." He leaned forward, his gaze locking with Marcus's. "Remember that stray fireball that singed their eyebrows? My signature move, even back then." A ghost of a smile flickered across Andre's lips, a smile that mirrored Elian's mischievous grin, a detail that sent a tremor of hope through Marcus.

"But Andre," Marcus stammered, his voice thick with confusion, clinging to the familiar, "We've known him for years! How can you...?"

Andre's smile faltered. "It's complicated," he admitted, his voice dropping to a hushed murmur. "There was an accident, a magical mishap that… well, let's just say it scrambled things a bit. My essence, my memories, they got tangled up with Andre's."

He closed his eyes, a pained expression crossing his face. "For a while, I wasn't sure who I was myself. Fragments of Andre's life, his experiences, they bled into mine. But lately," he opened his eyes, a newfound determination glinting within them, "the fog has been clearing. I remember everything now. The Academy, our pranks, the late-night study sessions fueled by cold gruel."

Marcus's lips let out a sob that was choked. Andre's recollections were akin to valuable mementos, serving as proof of a bond he believed was permanently severed. Yet a piece of himself remained attached to the well-known ache of Elian's loss.

Always practical, Res finally uttered words. "So, what's the story with Andre?" "Where can he be found?"

Andre's expression became somber. He confessed, his voice tinged with profound sorrow, "I have no idea." The magic is unpredictable. It could have driven him to a different place, another corner of this world.

Marcus felt a heavy burden on his chest as Andre's words weighed on him. Feelings of relief about the potential return of Elian clashed with anxiety about Andre's situation. The happiness of being together again was overshadowed by the sharp sting of sorrow.

His gaze met Andre's, full of an unspoken inquiry. Is it possible for them to repair this? Was it possible for them to restore Andre, the familiar friend? Andre made eye contact, silently conveying a promise with a flicker in his gaze. They would make an attempt. United. However, Marcus was troubled by a new and disturbing revelation. This was not exactly like Elian. This person was Andre, transformed in some way, transformed into Elian. He was uncertain about being prepared to embrace this updated version of his friend.