Chapter 13 – The Forgotten Tongue

The first breath that filled his lungs wasn't air—it was fire. A sweet, searing heat surged down his spine, and his eyelids fluttered open. The wooden ceiling above him was the same, but everything else felt different: lightness, strength... renewal. William sat up slowly, feeling the brush of sheets against his skin as if for the first time. No pain. No wounds. Only a strange humming in his chest.

"Angel… what happened?"

His voice sounded rough, almost foreign. A short silence followed before the familiar female voice responded in his mind.

"You've been unconscious for six hours. Your body was on the verge of collapse... multiple fractures, internal bleeding... Even with my assistance accelerating your healing, no normal human should've survived."

William leaned back against the headboard, staring at his arms—now perfectly intact.

"So... what happened?"

"Someone poured an unknown liquid into your mouth while you slept. It acted immediately. I scanned the residue on your lips, but... I could only identify one ingredient: bitter peaches."

He frowned.

"Just one?"

"Yes. I estimate it contains at least six active components, but the others are unknown. This goes beyond modern medicine. It's... magical."

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. It didn't open right away, as if whoever was behind it hesitated. Finally, his companions entered—Dixon in front, followed by Theo, Cedric, and Thom. No one spoke at first. They just looked at him, a mix of recognition and respect in their eyes. The air was thick, heavy with unspoken things.

"We thought you were dead, dumbass," Dixon muttered at last, arms crossed. Still, his eyes scanned William from head to toe without pause.

"It's not that easy to kill a wolf," William replied with a crooked smile.

Cedric let out a snort, and Thom nodded silently. Theo stepped forward to place a cup of water on the bedside table. No one tried to touch him. No one asked how he felt. But William understood. In that quiet gesture, in those restrained glances, there was more than words—a silent oath between men who had stood at the edge of the abyss together.

"Thanks for coming," William murmured, and that was all the emotion they needed to share.

"Let's get ready for literature class. We're running late," Dixon said, snapping them out of the heavy atmosphere.

With a light chuckle, the group began getting ready for class.

Literature was one of the few mandatory classes for all commoners. Many couldn't read or write, and that made them tools, not people. Learning to wield language was a way to survive.

The professor who walked in was tall, with silver hair that fell like silk over a golden robe. He carried himself with quiet elegance, but his eyes were sharp. His name was Aurus Remus, and his gaze gleamed like molten gold.

"I'll be your language instructor. We're not here to read love poems or farmer fables. You'll learn how to speak to the world—and if you're lucky, to understand a bit of yourselves," he declared with a deep, steady voice.

No one dared interrupt.

"Starting today, you'll attend this class every day. You'll learn two languages: the first is Ikaris, the common tongue used in Redvale, Draymor, and many other nearby realms. The second..." —he paused, scanning the room as if searching for a reaction— "is called Remika. Don't ask me why it's important. Just know that it is."

William tensed. The word struck something in his memory like a hammer on glass. A fragment surfaced from the past.

He was a child. The old Rosehart library smelled of parchment and dry tobacco. His grandfather watched him sternly, but with eyes full of stories no book could hold.

"This language, Remika, is not ordinary," he said while drawing complex symbols on parchment. "Some call it a dead tongue. Others, a magical one. For us… it is the universal language. Where we came from, everyone knew how to speak it."

"Everyone?" young William asked, wide-eyed.

"Everyone who knew real power. Remika is like the breath of the world. Words don't just name—they shape."

"Are there more languages?"

His grandfather nodded.

"Thousands. Like stars in the sky. But there's a third you must remember: Volgaris. It came from an island no one can find, hidden behind an eternal storm. They say those who can speak it... can open doors..."

William had touched the letters with trembling fingers, not quite understanding.

The class ended. The students spilled out like a restrained river, whispering among themselves. William walked last, lost in the echo of his memories. As he passed the professor's desk, he froze.

Aurus Remus had a scroll unrolled. It wasn't Ikaris. It wasn't Remika. William knew it instantly. That twisted script, those slightly warped characters... it was Volgaris.

Without thinking, the words slipped from his lips.

"Eternal winds obstructed my path…"

The air seemed to tear as the sound echoed. Aurus looked at him as if he'd seen a ghost. His face went pale. The scroll slipped from his fingers.

"What… did you just say?" he asked, voice hollow.

The professor's words snapped William out of his trance. Panic rose in his chest as he scrambled to come up with an excuse for knowing a lost language.

"Sorry, Professor. I was just thinking out loud. Please ignore my ramblings."

The professor's gaze locked onto him with a force that made his skin crawl. William had never felt anything like it.

"Warning," Angel's voice rang sharply in his mind. "Unknown energy wave detected. Activating defensive protocols… Protocols failed. Unable to block incoming energy."

Alarms blared in his head. William dropped to his knees, gasping as blood began to pour from his nose, ears, mouth, and eyes.

If Commander Anthon's presence had felt like standing before a giant beast, this was something else entirely—like being a small boat adrift in a raging sea, about to be swallowed whole.

A voice rose from the depths. Deep. Twisted. Infernal. Each word struck like a blow.

"Don't lie to me… boy."