Three weeks before the Academy.
I sat on my bed, turning the ring over in my fingers. Simple silver band. Unremarkable. The conduit that had connected me to Asura that had changed everything.
But where had it come from?
"Asura," I said aloud. She was perched on my windowsill, basking in the morning light that filtered through the curtains. "How did your ring get into my room?"
She turned to look at me, tiny head tilted. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, it just appeared on my bedside table. The day after my father confronted me about the funeral. I didn't put it there. So how did it get there?"
"No idea." She flew over to land on my knee. "I was sealed in the dagger, dormant. Sleeping, basically. Then suddenly I felt a connection, someone touching the ring. That was you. But before that?" She shrugged. "Nothing. I was unconscious for decades."
"So someone put it there. Deliberately."
"Looks like it."
I thought back to that day. My father had left. I'd been alone in my room. And then suddenly the ring was just... there.
Only one person had regular access to my room. Only one person who could have left something without me noticing.
Clara.
But why would she have a demon's ring? How would she even know what it was?
Unless... unless someone gave it to her. Told her to place it in my room.
My stomach went cold.
Someone wanted me to find the dagger. Wanted me bound to Asura. But who? And why?
"I need to talk to Clara," I said, standing.
"About time you left this room anyway," Asura said, settling onto my shoulder. "You smell like you've been cooped up for months. Oh, wait, you have."
"Funny."
"I'm hilarious. Now go. Let's see if your maid is a demon conspirator or just an unwitting pawn. My money's on pawn."
I reached for the door handle, hesitated.
I hadn't left this room, really left it, not just to the bathroom or to sneak out at night, in over a year. The last time I'd walked these halls, I'd been a disgrace. The bum who refused to attend his stepmother's funeral. The pathetic noble everyone pitied or mocked.
"You're stalling," Asura observed.
"I know."
"They're going to stare. They're going to whisper. They're going to judge. Are you going to let that stop you?"
No. I wasn't.
I opened the door.
The hallway was empty. Mid-morning, most servants would be busy with their duties. I walked toward the main areas of the manor, my footsteps echoing on the stone floor.
The first person to see me was a young maid carrying linens. She looked up, saw me, and dropped everything.
"Y-young master!" She stared like I was a ghost. "You're.....you're out of your room!"
"Yes."
"You're... alive."
"Also yes."
She continued staring. I walked past her, leaving her gaping in the hallway.
More reactions followed. A servant carrying water actually stumbled, sloshing liquid everywhere. Two maids gossiping near the kitchen went silent mid-sentence, mouths hanging open.
"They expected you to be dead," Asura whispered. "Or at least morbidly obese from lying in bed for a year. You're neither. They don't know what to make of it."
I found Clara in the kitchen, discussing the day's meals with the head cook. She looked the same as always, grey hair in a neat bun, practical dress, kind eyes.
Those eyes widened when she saw me.
"Young master," she said carefully, as if addressing something fragile that might break. "You're... out."
"I need to speak with you. Privately."
Her expression became guarded. Since I'd lashed out at her after the duel, she'd maintained a careful distance. Professional. Cold. The warmth she'd shown me as a child was gone, replaced by formal courtesy.
I'd done that to her. Driven away the one person who'd cared about me like a mother, without conditions.
"Of course, young master." She excused herself from the cook and followed me to a quiet corner of the manor. Away from prying eyes and listening ears.
When we were alone, she turned to me. "What do you need?"
Straight to business. No warmth. Just duty.
Oh god! I'd ruined this, too. I remembered how shitty I was to Clara
"The ring," I said. "A silver ring. Simple design. It appeared in my room about a year ago. Did you put it there?"
Her brow furrowed. "What ring?"
"A silver band. It was on my bedside table. I didn't put it there, so I assumed...."
"Young master, I clean your room, but I haven't done so in quite some time... and moreover, I don't leave items in it." Her voice remained formal, distant. "And I certainly wouldn't leave jewelry. That would be inappropriate."
She wasn't lying. I could see it in her eyes. She genuinely had no idea what I was talking about.
Which meant someone else had access to my room. Someone who could come and go without anyone noticing.
That was a problem for later.
"I see. Thank you." I started to turn away, then stopped. "Clara, wait."
"Yes, young master?"
I couldn't keep doing this. Couldn't keep being the person who hurt people and never apologized. Who took kindness for granted and repaid it with cruelty.
I turned back to face her. And then I did something no noble should do.
I bowed. Deeply. Formally. The bow of someone seeking forgiveness from an equal.
"I'm sorry," I said to the floor. "For how I treated you. For what I said. You didn't deserve that. You've been nothing but kind to me my entire life, and I repaid that with abuse. I'm sorry."
Silence.
Then: "Young master, what are you doing?"
"Apologizing."
"You're.....you're bowing to me. A maid."
"You're Clara. You've taken care of me since I was born. You deserve an apology."
More silence. Then I heard a sound I hadn't heard in over a year.
Clara crying.
Not sobs. Just quiet tears. The kind that come from relief, from surprise, from emotions too big to contain.
I straightened up, saw tears running down her face even as she smiled.
"You foolish boy," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "A noble should never bow their head to a maid. What would your mother think?"
"She'd probably say I should have done it sooner."
Clara laughed through her tears, pulled out a handkerchief to dab at her eyes. "Yes. Yes, she probably would."
She looked at me, really looked at me, and something in her expression softened. The coldness melted away, replaced by the warmth I remembered.
"You've changed," she said quietly. "I don't know what happened in that room over the past year. But you've changed."
"I'm trying to be better."
"I can see that." She reached out, hesitated, then gently touched my shoulder. "Welcome back, young master. I'm glad you found your way again."
My eyes were stinging. I blinked rapidly, refusing to cry in a hallway.
"Thank you. For not giving up on me. Even when I gave you every reason to."
"You're my charge. I could never give up on you." She smiled, the same warm smile from my childhood. "Now, shall I prepare a proper meal for you? You must be starving."
"Actually, I was going to go for a walk. Haven't seen the sun in a while."
"Of course. Just... be careful. And Aldric?" She used my name, not just 'young master.' "I'm proud of you. Your mother would be too."
That did it. Tears escaped despite my best efforts.
I nodded, not trusting my voice, and walked away before I completely broke down in front of her.
"That was disgustingly sweet," Asura said from my shoulder. "I feel like I need to go kill something to balance out all that emotion."
"Shut up."
"Never. Now let's go see the sun. I haven't seen proper daylight in decades. This is exciting."
I walked through the manor toward the gardens, toward the actual outside. Servants scattered as I passed, whispers following in my wake.
"Did you see him?"
"I thought he was bedridden...."
"He looks the same as before...."
"I expected him to be fat or something..."
"Still thin? Maybe thinner...."
"They expected you to have ballooned up from depression eating," Asura observed. "Instead, you're more fit than you were before. Confusing for them."
I pushed open the door to the gardens, stepped outside.
The sun hit me like a physical blow.
Bright. Blinding. Overwhelming after months of dim room and nighttime forest.
I immediately covered my eyes, squinting against the assault of light.
"Fuck," I hissed. "That's bright."
On my shoulder, I felt Asura freeze. Then she let out the most undemon-like squeal I'd ever heard.
"IT BURNS! THE LIGHT! IT'S SO BRIGHT! Why is it so bright?! I can see it through your eyes and it's SO BRIGHT!"
"You're a demon. Not a vampire. Aren't you supposed to be immune to sunlight?"
"That's vampires, idiot! I'm not actually a vampire despite the fangs! I'm just...ow ow ow....not used to daylight anymore! Decades in a dark forest in a sealed dagger! This is an assault on my retinas!"
"You don't have retinas. You're seeing through my eyes."
"Doesn't make it less painful! Close your eyes! Adjust slowly!"
We stood there like idiots, me with my eyes squeezed shut, waiting for my vision to adjust.
Slowly...so slowly I could open them. Squint at the brightness. See the gardens.
They were beautiful. I'd forgotten how beautiful. Flowers blooming, perfectly manicured hedges, paths winding through carefully arranged landscaping.
And beyond the gardens, the training yard.
Where a solitary figure stood, arms crossed, waiting.
Cedric.
My breath caught.
He was there. Still waiting. Just like he'd been waiting every morning for... how long?
Over a year. He'd been waiting for over a year.
Something broke in my chest.
"Oh," Asura said softly. "Oh, that's... actually kind of heartbreaking. That guy has a stronger sense of duty than most humans."
I walked toward the training yard on legs that felt unsteady. Not from weakness. From emotion.
Cedric watched me approach. His face was unreadable as always, those dead grey eyes giving nothing away.
I stopped at the edge of the yard. "Cedric, I..."
"Pick up your sword."
His voice was flat. Emotionless. Not angry. Not disappointed. Just... blank.
I opened my mouth to apologize, to explain.
"I said, pick up your sword." He gestured to the weapons rack. "Now."
I couldn't help it. I smiled.
Same old Cedric. Straight to business. No time for emotional reunions or apologies. Just work.
I walked to the rack, selected a wooden practice sword. The weight was familiar, comfortable. Like greeting an old friend.
When I turned back, I realized we had an audience.
Servants at the windows. Maids gathering at the edges of the training yard. Guards pausing in their patrols to watch.
Everyone wanted to see this. The depressed noble who'd been locked in his room for over a year, finally emerging to train with the legendary former Knight Captain.
My hands started to shake.
The wooden sword suddenly felt too heavy. My breathing became ragged.
Everything went blurry...
I was in a dueling ring again. Lucas is across from me. Sera watching. Everyone watching. The humiliation. The loss. The moment everything fell apart.
"Young master?" Cedric's voice, closer now. "What's wrong?"
I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. The memories were overwhelming. Every failure. Every shameful moment. Everyone watching, judging, seeing me fail—
"It's not my fault.", I whispered, " I swear... I'm not at fault." Tears freely flowed from my eyes. My Knees felt weak, and I couldn't move. "Why won't anyone listen to me?"
"Everyone, leave." Cedric's command cut through the training yard like a blade. "Now."
"But sir, we haven't...."
"I said leave. The training session is private. That includes to guards. Move."
The authority in his voice was absolute. People scattered, returning to their duties. Within a minute, the training yard was empty except for Cedric and me.
The moment they were gone, the moment the eyes disappeared, I could breathe again.
Cedric studied me with those grey eyes. "Trauma from the duel with the Hartwell boy."
Not a question. A statement.
"Yes," I admitted.
"Understandable. Public humiliation is traumatic." He took his ready stance. "But we're alone now. No audience. No judgment. Just training. Can you do this?"
I took a shaky breath. Then another. The breathing exercises, ironically the same ones Cedric had taught me years ago.
In. Out. In. Out.
The panic receded. Not gone, but manageable.
"Yes," I said. "I can do this."
"Good. Ready position."
I took my stance. The Ashford stance, drilled into me years ago. Proper. Formal. Traditional.
Cedric attacked.
And something in me... shifted.
The formal stance dissolved. My body moved on instinct, on months of training with Asura. I dropped low, under his strike. Came up with a slash that forced him back. Didn't retreat into a defensive position. Pressed forward. Aggressive. Chaotic. Unpredictable.
Nothing like how I'd been taught by Cedric.
Cedric's eyes widened fractionally, the most emotion I'd ever seen from him.
He adapted, blocked my strikes, but I could see the confusion in his movements. This wasn't the student he remembered. This wasn't proper swordsmanship.
I transitioned from a high slash to a kick aimed at his knee. He blocked the kick, but left himself open for my blade. I struck his shoulder...not hard, just a touch.
First point.
We reset.
This time, Cedric was ready. Watching my movements with new intensity. Trying to predict the chaos.
But chaos is unpredictable by nature.
I feinted left, went right. Held my sword in a reverse grip for a brief moment to allow me to close the gap between our blades. Combined the dagger techniques with the practice sword, close-range cuts, using my smaller size to get inside his guard. My footwork was wild, nothing like the formal patterns I'd learned.
It was effective.
The duel was fast. Brutal. Not elegant at all. Just pure efficiency.
I scored two more touches. He scored three. We were close.
Hours passed. We didn't speak. Just fought. Reset. Fought again.
My muscles were screaming. Sweat poured down my face. My breathing was ragged.
But I was alive. Actually, genuinely alive.
This was what I'd been missing. This feeling. Combat. Movement. Testing myself against someone skilled.
Cedric struck my chest. Final point.
He'd won. But barely.
"Yield," he said.
"I yield."
I lowered my sword. My legs gave out. I collapsed to the ground, gasping.
Cedric stood over me, barely breathing hard despite hours of sparring.
"Who taught you to fight like that?" he asked.
"Ummm....I came up with it myself."
"That wasn't proper technique. That wasn't anything I taught you."
"No. It's... different. More practical. Less elegant."
"It's effective. Unorthodox, but effective." He extended his hand. "Where did your form go? The Ashford technique?"
I took his hand, let him pull me up. "I can still use it. I just... when I'm being watched, I freeze up. Can't perform. But alone, I can fight properly."
"The duel traumatized you more than I realized." Cedric studied my face. "But your combat instincts improved. Significantly. And that style, chaotic but controlled. Like fighting a wild animal with tactical awareness. I've never seen anything quite like it."
"Is that bad?"
"Bad? No. Unusual, yes. Concerning? Possibly." He crossed his arms.
"You said you came up with this yourself?" Asura is yelling in my head, saying I shouldn't be too quick to take credit for other people's achievements. I'm about to speak again and tell him about everything. After all, Ceedric seems trustworthy when.
"Don't tell him about me," Asura whispered urgently. "That seems like information he wouldn't take well."
"Someone with unique fighting experience. They helped me during my... recovery."
Cedric's eyes narrowed. He knew I was deflecting. But he didn't push.
"You've changed. Fundamentally. You're not the same person who lost that duel." He paused. "I don't know if that's good or bad yet. But you're capable. More capable than before in some ways. Less in others."
"Less?"
"You freeze under observation. That's a significant weakness. At the Academy, you'll be constantly watched. Evaluated. Judged." He shook his head. "Without an audience, you're formidable. With one, you'll be a liability to yourself."
He was right. The trauma from the duel was a problem. A serious problem.
"I'll work on it."
"You'd better. The Academy isn't kind to weakness." He turned toward the manor. "Now go rest. You're about to pass out."
"I'm fine...."
The world tilted. My vision went grey at the edges.
"Or not," I managed to say before my legs gave out completely.
I felt Cedric catch me before I hit the ground. Heard him call for servants.
Then nothing.
I woke up in my bed. Evening light through the window. Hours had passed.
Asura was perched on my chest, tiny face worried.
"You idiot. You pushed too hard. Fought for hours without breaks after barely training properly for months. What did you think would happen?"
"I thought... I'd be fine."
"You passed out from exhaustion. In front of witnesses. They carried you back to your room." She flew up to hover near my face. "The maids are saying you snapped out of your depression too late. That you won't have any prestige at the Academy. That you'll be a nobody because you wasted your preparation time wallowing."
"They're probably right."
"They're absolutely right. You're entering the Academy with no reputation, no accomplishments, and no status beyond being a Duke's son. And given how you've been acting the past year, even that won't help much." She landed on my shoulder. "You're going to be an outsider. A nobody. Possibly a laughingstock."
"I know."
"Good. As long as you know." She paused. "But you fought well today. Cedric was impressed, I could tell. And you faced your demons, literally and figuratively. So it wasn't a complete disaster."
I sat up slowly. My entire body ached. But it was a good ache. The ache of muscles used properly. Of real effort.
"Three weeks until the Academy."
"Three weeks to prepare mentally for being around people again. For being constantly observed. For facing Sera and that Lucas boy who beat you." Asura flew around to look me in the face. "Are you ready for that?"
"No. But I'm going anyway."
"That's the spirit. Fake it until you make it." She settled back on my shoulder. "Now eat. Clara left food. Then sleep. Real sleep. Tomorrow, we start preparing you for social interaction. You've been a hermit for a year. You need to remember how to be human."
"I'm not sure I ever knew how to be human properly."
"Fair point. Well, we'll teach you how to fake it convincingly. Close enough."
I ate the meal Clara had left, still warm; she must have brought it recently, and lay back down.
Three weeks until the Academy.
Three weeks until I faced Sera again. Faced Lucas. Faced everyone who'd seen me lose and break.
Three weeks to prepare to enter a world where I had no allies, no prestige, no reputation except as a failure.
The old me would have been terrified.
The current me?
I was still terrified.
But I was also ready.
I'd survived worse than social humiliation. Died twice. Lost everything multiple times. Been bound to a demon trying to steal my body.
The Academy was just the next challenge.
And I was done running from challenges.
"Asura?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For pulling me out of that room. For training me. For... being here."
"Don't get sappy on me. I'm still going to take your body, eventually."
"I know."
"Good. As long as we're clear." She paused. "But... you're welcome. You're less boring now. I appreciate that."
High praise from a demon.
I closed my eyes and let sleep take me.
Tomorrow, I'll start preparing for the Academy.
Tonight, I'd just rest.
For the first time in over a year, I felt like I was finally moving forward instead of just surviving.
It was a start.