He is Alive...

My fingers trembled as I opened the letter.

The paper was crumpled at the edges, stained with dried blood. Just by touching it, I could imagine the effort Aaron put into writing it… as if he had used his final moments, his last strength… for me.

My hands weren't ready. And my heart… even less so.

But even with trembling fingers, I unfolded the paper with the utmost care. And the moment I recognized his handwriting — firm, elegant, yet shaky — my eyes filled with tears.

"Elisa"

"If you're reading this… then it means I didn't make it back. Forgive me."

"I should've been more careful. I should've let you know where I was going. But I didn't want to worry you. You already carry enough."

I swallowed hard. His handwriting wavered in places, as if written between coughs or convulsions. Each line was a blade slicing into my heart.

"You've always been stronger than you think. Even when the world told you otherwise. Even when our family treated you like a mistake to be hidden."

"I know you don't believe it, but it's true. You never needed to prove anything to anyone. Your heart… Elisa, your heart has always been the purest in this house."

A tear fell onto the paper, smudging parts of the written words. My chest hurt so much I could barely breathe.

"I know they'll take everything from you now that I'm gone. But don't let them take what matters most: who you are."

"I left you something. A gift. A path."

The text ended abruptly. My eyes ran along the last line — searching for clues, any hint of the mysterious gift he mentioned. But before I could inspect it further… the letter began to dissolve into particles of light, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

The particles of light then gathered into a single glow. The light exploded, turning the room into a sea of blinding white — as if the sun itself had been born there, if only for an instant, forcing my eyes shut. When I opened them again… only silence remained — and a small green spark, floating in the air.

Its light was small and fragile, as if it could be extinguished by a breath — and yet it radiated an almost overwhelming aura of vitality. Just by breathing the air around it, I felt my exhaustion slowly fade, as if life was seeping into me with every inhale.

For a moment, I thought I saw a feminine silhouette within the light — long hair made of leaves and petals, eyes like deep lakes. But when I tried to focus, all that remained was the pulsing light.

My eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. Even without seeing her clearly, the mere presence of her aura made my legs tremble. It was like standing before something sacred, where even being in its presence felt like a sin.

Aaron spent years teaching me about magic and spirits — even introduced me to some of the most powerful. It was impossible not to recognize that presence. Even without seeing her clearly, I knew. That was Lysara — the Queen of Nature Spirits.

My brother always had a deep affinity and connection with spirits. No wonder he held the title of "Beloved by Spirits."

In truth, the Gracefalls despised Aaron — though they masked that hatred as disappointment or frustration, because he refused to use his talents for the selfish goals of the Gracefall family.

Aaron was kind, always reaching out to those in need. With Lysara — one among the many Spirit Queens he had won over — he saved and healed countless people.

And now, that legendary spirit was before me once again.

Aaron had done this for me.

I tried to say something, anything. But the words caught in my throat, as if words were unworthy in the face of that presence.

"You… were sent by Aaron?... You are… his gift to me?... Lysara..." After a few minutes, I managed to speak hesitantly.

"Yes and no... I was left to guide you — not to remain. When you no longer need me… I will leave." The light floated to the level of my eyes, and her voice filled the room with an ancient serenity. It was a voice that seemed to have witnessed centuries — maternal and strong, like the warm embrace of Aaron. If I had a mother, I imagine her voice would sound like that. Serene and gentle.

Some gratitude stirred in my heart. Even if only temporary, she would still help me. My mouth opened to ask questions, but I was interrupted by Lysara.

"Elisa... my strength is at its limit. I won't be able to stay for long, so... ask only what's essential." The green light flickered slightly, as if it truly might fade at any moment.

"In the reports... They said he died in the battle... against the abyss." My voice broke. "B-But they never found his body... So..."

"Is there... any chance he's still alive?... I need to know if... if he really..." I asked about the most painful thorn in my heart. In my voice, there was a hope — fragile and desperate — that Aaron was still alive.

"Well... your brother... is... alive." The spark of light wavered gently and Lysara's voice echoed once more through the room, carrying a slight hesitation.

Silence hung in the room, before it was broken by me.

"He's... alive?!" I whispered, in disbelief. My heart leapt, and in an instant, the whisper became a shout. "Really?! He's really alive?!"

A laugh escaped my lips — fragile and trembling, something between a sob and a sigh of relief, and for a moment, my legs almost gave out.

Aaron... my brother... he was alive.

"Don't get your hopes up... Aaron's condition is critical. He was... corrupted by the Abyss." As if she wanted to crush my happiness, Lysara's serene voice echoed once again through the room. "He used his last strength to save his companions... and me."

My laughter died in my throat. The hope that had bloomed within me withered cruelly — like a flower trampled before it could bloom.

Being corrupted by the Abyss was worse than dying — it meant becoming a monster, a creature whose only purpose was to kill and destroy.

"That's a lie... right?" I whispered hesitantly, staring desperately at the floating spark of light.

I prayed, desperately, that it was a lie. A cruel joke. But deep down... I knew Lysara wouldn't lie about something like this.

It felt like the ground had vanished beneath my feet. The hope that had just been born in my chest was ripped away with cruel claws, leaving a void even deeper than before.

"If you want to save your brother... you need to be strong, Elisa..." Lysara's serene voice echoed again, now carrying a touch of motherly warmth. "Aaron trusts you, so I will trust you too..."

"Aaron... left behind the formula for a potion capable of curing his condition." Without waiting for my response, Lysara continued, but this time her voice was tinged with sadness and... love? "Elisa... Please... Save Aaron."

Before I could process her words and their implications — the spark of light seeped into my mind.

And then, everything went quiet again. But in my mind, an image began to take shape — fragments of ancient knowledge, like a torn page from a book. The formula for a... legendary potion.

A potion said to cure any illness or wound. Even bring someone back from the dead.

"This is really... for me?" My voice faltered, but no one answered.

The conversation with Lysara had drained every last drop of my strength. Not just physical, but something deeper — like my heart had run a marathon without moving an inch.

I stood up slowly, my muscles protesting, my thoughts foggy and heavy.

I walked to the bed. Lifted the sheets gently and lay down, feeling the mattress embrace my body with silent kindness.

The pillow was cold — maybe from how long I'd spent standing, reading, crying, discovering that Aaron was alive… and corrupted.

I closed my eyes, trying to think, to come up with a plan, but my thoughts were as tangled as the sheets beneath me.

And then, like I always had since I was a child… I decided I would think better tomorrow.

"Sleeping is like giving pain a break," Aaron used to say.

Funny. Now I understand what he meant.

I closed my eyes, letting the darkness wrap around me, and allowed the exhaustion to carry me away, like a gentle wave.

The next morning, sunlight slipped into the room gently, as if it knew that anything too bright might be cruel in that moment.

My eyes opened slowly. The first thing I noticed was the silence — not the comforting kind, but the kind that weighs down, like the world was holding its breath, waiting for me to move it forward.

For a moment, I remembered nothing. But then... the memory hit me like a tide.

The letter. Lysara. Aaron. Alive… but corrupted.

I brought a hand to my chest. My heart beat irregularly, as if trying to find a new rhythm amid the chaos I now carried.

I got up slowly. My legs were steadier than I expected. Lysara's aura still faintly pulsed in the air, as if a fragment of the forest had clung to the walls.

I walked to the window. Outside, the garden was covered in morning dew. Everything looked so normal… so undeservingly calm. And yet, something in the air felt different.

"Thank you, Aaron…" I whispered.

The sadness was still there, but now there was something else. A purpose. A thin thread pulling me forward.

I put on a simple tunic and tied my hair in a quick bun. After so many days... this was the first morning I didn't feel completely hollow.

I approached the table where the letter had disintegrated. There was only a faint silver glow on the wood, as if a miracle had left its signature.

"I have to start," I murmured. "I have to figure out the ingredients."

But it wouldn't be easy. Many of the names in the formula belonged to an extinct language — words of ancient spirits, forgotten by humans for centuries. Even though I recognized some symbols, others seemed to hide from me, demanding more than simple translation.

So I sat down at the table, pulling out my alchemy journal with trembling hands. In it was everything I had learned… everything Aaron had taught me. I began flipping through the pages, trying to recognize the ingredients, decipher ancient symbols, find meaning in that legendary formula.

I had to understand. I had to turn those fragments of knowledge into something real. Something that could save him.

But it wasn't that simple. Even if I identified every ingredient and understood the transmutation process… I still wouldn't be able to do it alone.

My magic… or rather, my lack of it… had always been my burden.

My magic circuits are defective. Broken since birth. That alone would be bad enough — but the worst part is that my body holds an absurd amount of mana. Almost like a dragon's, Aaron used to say. And that mana makes me... resistant. Immune to spells, even those meant to heal me.

Aaron tried. He truly did. But he realized that forcing a magical fix would only destroy my body further. So he gave up — not on me, but on the idea of fixing the impossible.

Even so, he never let me feel useless. He was the one who introduced me to alchemy. Taught me that, even without casting a single spell, I could still change lives.

He gave me all the tools. Bought the materials. Stayed up late reviewing my experiments.

Now I understand… he was preparing me for this moment.

For the impossible I would have to face.