Chapter 18: The Mark of the Eclipse

Aldrian sat at the edge of his bed, exhaling slowly. Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting golden patterns across the room. Everything was the same—the polished wooden furniture, the scent of parchment and steel, the distant murmur of servants beginning their day.

Yet, he was not.

His hand hovered over his chest, fingers brushing against the faint mark just over his heart. At first glance, it seemed like nothing more than a shadow against his skin. But when he focused, it pulsed—not with pain, not with power, but something deeper.

Awareness.

His senses sharpened in an instant. The once-muted world around him came alive with staggering clarity. Footsteps in the hall. Conversations through thick walls. The subtle rustling of leaves beyond the estate. It was as if he had been blind to half of existence before.

"Observe. Learn. Adapt."

The System's words echoed in his mind. Not a demand—an expectation. Unlike the trial, there was no immediate danger, no enemy forcing him to act.

It was waiting.

For what?

Before he could dwell on it further, something small and fast barreled into him.

"Big brother!"

Tiny arms wrapped around his waist with surprising force, nearly knocking him off balance. The scent of lavender and morning dew filled his senses, accompanied by a familiar warmth.

Aldrian blinked. Lyra.

His little sister, no more than three, with curly dark hair and bright sapphire-blue eyes—the same as his own, inherited from their mother.

"You're awake!" she said, her voice brimming with excitement. "Mama said not to wake you, but I waited so long!"

Aldrian sighed, more amused than annoyed. "How long?"

Lyra puffed her cheeks, looking very serious. "...Forever!"

A chuckle almost escaped him. After everything—after the abyss, the nightmares, and the silence—she still saw him the same way. Not as someone who had endured a realm of horrors. Not as someone marked by something beyond this world.

Just her big brother.

"Lyra."

A warm, knowing voice came from the doorway.

Elena Zenith stood there, arms crossed, a soft smile playing on her lips. Her deep blue eyes, mirroring Aldrian's, carried an understanding that words didn't need to express. She had always been like that—seeing through his silence, hearing what he didn't say.

"Did you sneak past the maids again?" she asked.

Lyra stiffened. "Nooo."

Aldrian raised an eyebrow.

She fidgeted. "...Maybe."

Elena sighed but knelt beside them, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Aldrian's ear. "Are you alright?"

He hesitated.

The answer was complicated. He was stronger, sharper… different. But was he alright?

"...Just tired," he said at last.

Elena studied him for a moment, searching for something. Then, instead of pressing further, she simply smiled. "Then rest today. No training, no pushing yourself."

Lyra tugged on his sleeve. "And eat breakfast with me!"

Aldrian glanced between them—his mother, gentle but unwavering, and his sister, innocent and untouched by the world's shadows.

A slow breath left him. "...Alright."

As they turned to leave, a shadow lingered at the top of the staircase.

Cedric Zenith.

His father stood with arms crossed, unreadable as ever. But his gaze—sharp, assessing—took in everything.

For a long moment, father and son locked eyes.

Cedric said nothing.

But Aldrian understood.

"I see it. And I'll be watching."