Memories Resurfaced

The morning began like many others in the Eryndor estate, with Basil practicing swordsmanship with Lia and Selene in the expansive training grounds. Their clashes were swift and precise, the rhythmic clang of swords echoing through the air. The twins moved with their characteristic grace, their elemental magics seamlessly blending into their techniques. Basil matched their skill with ease, his every movement exuding power and precision.

Today, however, the scene was different. Lord Eryndor had declared it a day of celebration, inviting the entire household to watch the sparring session. The family gathered around the training grounds, their presence turning what was usually an intense practice into a lively affair.

Freya, perched on a small bench with Celeste, clapped her tiny hands with every strike and parry. "Go, Brother! Show them how strong you are!" she cheered, her dragon tail wagging with excitement.

Aurelia, sitting nearby, watched with her usual serene smile. Even Lady Anarya, known for her composed demeanor, seemed more relaxed as she observed her son and the twins sparring. The household was unified in their admiration for the spectacle.

As the session continued, the atmosphere grew warm with laughter and camaraderie. Selene launched an electric-charged thrust toward Basil, who countered it effortlessly with a deflection that sent sparks flying. Lia followed with a whirlwind slash, which Basil dodged with a calculated sidestep.

Freya's voice suddenly broke through the hum of excitement. "I wish our family could always be happy like this!" she exclaimed, her tone pure and heartfelt.

The words struck Basil like a thunderbolt. His breath hitched as an image from his past life surfaced in his mind—a memory of his younger sister, her voice carrying the same innocent wish for eternal happiness.

For a fleeting moment, the world around Basil blurred. He saw her face, radiant with hope, and then the agonizing aftermath of that shattered dream.

Distracted, Basil's grip on his sword faltered. Selene's strike, meant to be blocked, landed squarely on his shoulder. The force of the blow sent him staggering back, his weapon slipping from his grasp. Gasps erupted from the audience as Basil fell to one knee, blood staining his training tunic.

"Basil!" Aurelia was the first to rush forward, her hands glowing with the soft light of healing magic. She pressed them to his shoulder, her expression frantic. "Stay still! Let me help!"

But Basil's turmoil ran deeper than the physical wound. He shoved Aurelia aside, his strength sending her sprawling onto the ground. The sudden movement shocked everyone into silence.

Without a word, Basil stood and stormed off, leaving the training grounds. His footsteps were heavy, his breathing uneven. Freya's concerned cries followed him, but he didn't stop. He needed to escape the suffocating joy that had turned into a haunting echo of his past.

Once inside the estate, Basil locked himself in his room, collapsing against the door. His shoulder throbbed, but the pain was a distant sensation compared to the storm of emotions raging within him.

"Why now?" he whispered to himself, his voice trembling. Images of his past life played in his mind like a cruel film—his sister's laughter, her wish for happiness, and the moment that happiness was torn away.

His hands clenched into fists as he fought to suppress the memories, but they came in relentless waves. The weight of his past life collided with the present, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.

Outside his room, the household stood in stunned silence, unsure of what to do. Freya clung to Celeste, her innocent wish now a painful reminder of the burdens her brother carried.

Lady Anarya placed a hand on Lord Eryndor's arm, her gaze heavy with concern. "Give him time," she said softly. "He needs to face this on his own."

The joyous day had turned into one of unease and reflection, the family left to grapple with the realization that their strongest member carried wounds no healing magic could mend. Inside his room, Basil sat alone, the shadows of his past weaving into the present, threatening to consume him.