At that moment, on the night of September 23rd, 1549, I was once again in my humble room. It had already been more than two weeks since I'd left the orphanage infirmary.
But there were no dreams. In truth… ever since the incident, ever since I woke from that state, I haven't dreamed of anything.
To be honest, what I felt wasn't absence, it was presence.
Each dream, every moment I spent unconscious, were just fragments of lucidity.
It was confusing.
And trying to explain any of it with words — or even to understand — became one of the riddles of my life over these past two weeks.
Because... how could you explain dreaming of the same thing over and over again?
How could you understand that it all began the moment a star fell?
Determined to enter my dream consciously, I tried to sleep once more.
And for the first time, I succeeded.
It was the same white marble tower, the same dragon coiled around the structure with its enormous wings — now spread open.
Its eyes were pale, yet black lines sank into the empty sockets, and for the first time... I saw it cry.
Its tears fell into the vastness of the Black Sea.
And there… I saw the light descend.
"Hey! Hey!"
I blinked again. I looked around — it was Sirius.
"You dreamed?" Sirius asked, looking surprised. "It's been a while since your last one... Could it be that—"
I sat up slightly, noticing he was still wearing his sleep clothes. His hair was wet, like he'd just taken a shower — so I knew it was early morning. That was good.
"Yes, I dreamed... I think," I admitted, rubbing my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sirius's expression grow even more astonished.
"You do realize how rare that is, right? I mean, mages can dream, but it's so rare that it's like one in ten thousand."
He stood up, scratching his head and sighing.
"Congratulations… that means you probably got a hint, right?"
"A hint?" I asked, now completely lost. "What are you talking about?"
"Of course!" He clapped his hands. "How could I forget — you only recently became a magic user, so allow me to explain."
He sighed again and began.
"Each dream a mage has allows them to access the First Gates of the Mind. They're a kind of mental test, a theoretical basis for understanding magical circle progression. With every circle you surpass, you understand something about yourself — a part of who you truly are."
Then a phrase came to mind… from the theologians' book of the Church of the Golden Circle:
"There are two names given to you — the one your family chose, and the one the world chose for you."
Sirius smiled as I recited it.
"Now you know where that line comes from. And honestly, I still haven't managed to pass the same stage Lara did. It's a risk I don't intend to take."
I nodded, but I could see Sirius's confident façade crumble for a moment.
There was envy in his eyes — not of bitterness, but of longing, mixed with admiration.
To me, that was good to see. He finally had something to chase, something to aim for.
For the first time, I saw ambition in his gaze.
Without wasting more time, I stood, grabbed my towel, and headed for the bathroom with the clothes I'd wear that day.
"One last thing, fragile boy!" Sirius called. "There'll be an important announcement at the plaza — don't take too long!"
"You're going ahead, huh?"
He nodded.
"Yeah. I'll meet you there. You clearly need a bit of time."
I entered the bathroom, showered, and once again faced that same reflection I could never get used to — the same black hair, the same violet eyes, the same sharp face.
It was hard to call myself normal, even now. Having magic only helped me feel less strange, but still... the questions from my dream lingered. Who am I? Whose son am I?
And why was I abandoned, having those strange dreams?
"Why am I even worrying about this now? Just move, Mordred."
Muttering to myself, I dried off, pulled on my shirt and trousers, then buttoned up my jacket.
"Alright, let's go…"
As I left my dorm, I couldn't ignore the unusual commotion in the orphanage halls.
People hurried back and forth, whispering.
Curious, I slipped behind one of the pillars and listened in on a conversation nearby.
"Did you see them?" one boy with ash-gray hair said.
"Yeah, I did! The personal guards of the Governor of the Gates of Light came here in person, can you believe it?"
Another boy with curly hair nodded vigorously.
"Right? They're in the courtyard! Apparently, they've got something to announce."
"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go! I've always wanted to see one of those guards up close!"
Their voices faded into whispers, but I caught enough.
Thinking about it, I remembered the evaluators who came to test Lara.
Could it be that they found more talented candidates?
What was all this movement about?
Without letting doubt eat at me, I went straight toward the meeting point — the center of all the noise.
It took me about two minutes to get there, fighting through the packed corridors.
When I finally arrived, I saw a crowd of kids around my age — thirteen, fourteen, maybe fifteen. Some looked even older.
I scanned the crowd, searching for my friends — and instead, I found Lara.
Almost instantly, I moved toward her.
As soon as she noticed me, her expression softened, and a smile broke across her face.
"Hey, Mordred. How are you?"
She hugged me quickly, then stepped back.
"I'm fine. What's going on here?" I asked, scanning the area.
"You don't know?" Lara looked genuinely surprised, then realizing my cluelessness, she continued,
"A ruin has surfaced near the province of the Gates of Light."
"What? What does that mean — a new expedition?"
She waved her hands. "Not exactly. Apparently, a state of emergency has been declared.
The younger children have already been moved somewhere safe, which means…"
"Only the older ones — those who can fight — stayed behind," I finished for her.
Lara's face darkened just as a figure approached the gathered group in the orphanage's main plaza.
I raised an eyebrow, visibly confused.
"So, whatever this is, looks like they've come to deliver big news," I muttered.
And curse my tongue —
because the next second, a trumpet blast silenced everyone.
Several guards appeared, wearing heavy plate armor marked with the Crimson Sun, the royal insignia engraved in the center.
But they weren't the focus — they were clearing a path.
A single man stepped forward. His cloak dragged across the ground, the same red sun stitched at its center.
His armor was immaculate — polished until it shone.
He looked about forty-five, his face stern beneath the shadow of his helmet.
The guards stepped aside. He ascended a small platform, and when he spoke, his voice struck me as strangely familiar.
"Good morning to all.
Today, I am here—alongside your headmistress—to inform you that, as of now, you are under the protection and authority of the Domain of the Gates of Light.
Therefore, you will undergo military and magical training to prepare you for potential use by the Kingdom of Aurora in response to the renewed activity of the ruins in Azgad.
If you have any questions, do not hesitate—you are free to ask."
His words were short, direct… and deeply suspicious.
Did the headmistress agree to this? Impossible. She hated placing the children in harm's way.
Yet there she stood, beside him, motionless, almost apathetic.
The children, real, talented young mages that remained, began questioning him one after another.
And soon, the truth spread among us:
The Ruins had reawakened. The training of unknown duration has started, and most importantly...
The Creatures of the Night had returned.