This old lady had suggested I talk about everything that had happened. Perhaps with her position as a priestess, she would know about conditions related to divine intervention or spiritual matters. Something else struck me as important Evan had mentioned a name: Candela. That had to be my name in this world. So from now on, I was Candela, not whoever I had been in my previous life.
"Are you alright, dear? Nobody is here, so you can feel at ease" she said gently, placing a warm hand on my shoulder to comfort me. Her touch was surprisingly soothing, carrying with it a sense of genuine care that I hadn't expected.
"Mrs. Vesta, I'm totally confused about my condition. What is happening to my body?" I preferred going straight to the point, cutting through any potential pleasantries or small talk.
Whether she knew about my world transfer situation wasn't important at this moment, and I wasn't really sure it would help me understand my current predicament anyway. What mattered was getting answers about why this body was falling apart every time I tried to do anything.
"It seems you've really developed a defense mechanism," she said thoughtfully, her voice taking on a more clinical tone.
"I really thought it was one of your tricks you played as a whim to make them leave you alone, but if you're acting like this with me as well, then this is serious."
As she spoke, I watched her expression change from joyful to one of deep seriousness. The transformation was striking, gone was the warm, welcoming woman who had offered me tea, replaced by someone who looked like she was analyzing a complex problem.
"So tell me, how far back have you forgotten?" she asked, leaning forward slightly in her chair.
I instantly knew the atmosphere had changed as she spoke. I could tell she was taking my situation seriously now, treating it like a genuine medical concern rather than a behavioral issue. Something about her demeanor reminded me of the doctors who had taken care of me in the hospital during my previous life. Her wording and tone were similar, that professional concern mixed with genuine care. Why did medical professionals always act that way? It was something I had never quite understood, but I found it oddly comforting.
"Well, will you believe me if I say this is the first time I've ever met you?" I asked, watching her face carefully for her reaction.
"Then this is bad. That spell wasn't supposed to work that way," she said, standing up abruptly and placing her hand on my head. Her palm was warm against my scalp, and I could feel something a tingling sensation that seemed to penetrate deeper than just physical touch.
A spell? I wouldn't be surprised if there was actually magic in this world, given the fantastic animals I had seen on my way here. Dragons perched on rooftops, three-headed dogs wandering the streets clearly, this was a world where the impossible was mundane.
"Strange, I don't feel the vita I attached to your soul. That's odd it was supposed to reduce the severity of your relapses," she said, puzzled, as she sat back down in her chair.
She was thinking for quite a while, her brow furrowed in concentration. What did what she had said mean? There were so many terms and concepts I didn't understand, and each explanation seemed to raise more questions than it answered.
She stared back at me, took a deep breath, and then started speaking with the measured tone of someone preparing to deliver important information.
"First, do you know what your name is?"
"Candela..." I paused, realizing I was just repeating what Evan had said earlier.
"So you don't remember even your own name," she said, going back into thinking mode, her fingers drumming silently on the table.
"Let me tell you about yourself and your family. I don't really think you've completely lost all your memories," she began, settling into what seemed like a well practiced explanation.
"Your name is Candela Anstek, second child and daughter of Raynold Anstek and Siel Freeda. You have a brother and a sister, as you most likely know. You're a member of a very prosperous family with considerable influence in this region. Now, let me explain your condition."
She leaned closer, her expression becoming even more serious.
"You suffer from Evast, a condition that makes vita leak out uncontrollably. That's the reason why you feel pain and bleed it's like your body is exploding from the inside, your magical energy tearing you apart from within."
I was confused and didn't try to hide it. The explanation raised more questions than it answered, and I could feel my bewilderment written plainly across my face. She seemed to realize this and started explaining in more detail, her voice taking on the patient tone of a teacher addressing a struggling student.
"Vita is the energy that spell casters use to utilize magic on this continent," she explained, emphasizing the word 'continent' in a way that suggested there were others.
Wait on this continent? What, were there others? As someone from Earth I should not be surprised.
"Vita can be simplified to vitality. We mages tap into it in order to cast our spells. However, some people in your case have access to magic from another continent, specifically from what we call the world of the dead. I had a friend who suffered from the same condition. As a descendant of the people from that land, your magical circuits are built differently from ours."
"Sorry, but this makes even less sense to me," I interrupted her, unable to grasp all of what she had been talking about. Why would there be such different systems? Weren't they all just different applications of the same basic principles?
"Calm down, young lady, and let me finish so we can proceed more normally," she said firmly but kindly.
I nodded and forced myself to remain silent, listening intently to what she had to say.
"People from the land of the dead use a different system of magic called Aphile. They're born with basically one or two forms of abilities, and they're classified into five categories." She held up her hand, counting on her fingers as she spoke.
"First, there are Healers, whose sole purpose is to fix things and people. They can't do anything unrelated to that specific function. Second, Destroyers, who show pure destructive capacity. Third, Builders, who can create matter and objects from nothing. Fourth, Changers, who can alter the state of anything they touch. And finally, Berserkers, which provide a massive boost in physical abilities."
She paused, letting me process what she had said before continuing.
"In your case, you are a Berserker. Your physical abilities have been boosted beyond what your body can naturally support. The flux of vita is simply too intense for your body to handle. Why can't we just teach you how to manage that flux? Well, it's because we can't the way Aphile and Vita work are purely different, as are their methods of managing their respective energy sources."
The explanation was becoming clearer, but also more terrifying. I was essentially trapped in a body that was being torn apart by its own power.
"In your condition, you have an essence of Vita combined with the ability of a Berserker. As a result, your ability thinks you're using Aphile, which isn't the case. That's why your drawbacks are so violent your body is trying to process energy in a way it wasn't designed for. I tried embedding some of my vita into your soul to help stabilize you, but it seems like it wasn't enough. The result is that you've completely lost your memories."
The explanation had gone on for quite some time, and at the end, she apologized as if all of this was her fault. I felt bad for her she had nothing to do with the fate of this body, but if she felt grief for what had happened, then I really couldn't say anything to comfort her. After all, Candela had suffered from this condition ever since her Vita had started awakening. At first, it had been minor, but it had progressively worsened to this point.
Her entire life had been a mess, really. Compared to her, I had been living on easy mode in my previous life, and I had still given up. What kind of person was I? And what would I become in this new existence?
The weight of this realization settled on me like a heavy blanket. Here was someone who had endured constant pain and suffering, who had watched her own body betray her day after day, and yet she had kept fighting. Meanwhile, I had complained about my circumstances and didn't care about dying when things got difficult and everyone abandoned me.
After our conversation, Mrs. Vesta gave a brief summary to Evan, essentially saying that my condition wasn't too bad and that everything would get better soon enough. I could tell she was trying to be optimistic for his sake, but I saw the concern in her eyes. She knew more than she was letting on, and that worried me.
So here we were, Evan and I, heading home through the cobblestone streets of the village. The journey back was quieter than our trip to the priestess. Evan seemed lost in thought, occasionally glancing at me with a mixture of concern and something that might have been hope.
But there was something else that bothered me. Mrs. Vesta had mentioned that she had tried to help by embedding her vita into my soul, but it had somehow resulted in my memory loss. That suggested that my arrival in this world might not have been as simple as I had thought. Had I somehow displaced the original Candela's consciousness? Or had the magical interference created the conditions for my soul to slip into this body?
In Vesta's office
Back in her office, Mrs. Vesta was thoroughly searching through her extensive collection of books. The room was lined with shelves that reached from floor to ceiling, packed with tomes of varying ages and sizes. Some looked ancient, their leather bindings cracked and faded, while others appeared to be more recent additions to her library.
"I think it was here," she muttered to herself, moving from shelf to shelf with practiced efficiency.
I'm really getting old if I can't find a single book, she thought to herself, frustration creeping into her mental voice. Oh, here it is.
She pulled out a particularly thick volume bound in dark leather. The cover was unmarked, but she handled it with the reverence of someone who knew its true value.
"With this, I will finally know if there was a precedence for a change in the soul," she said aloud, her voice carrying a mixture of hope and trepidation.