The morning sky was pale and cold. Dew clung to the grass, and mist rolled softly across the hills behind the Renard estate.
Cael sat beneath the elm tree, the same spot where he always watched the guards train. The air smelled of earth and steel. Each strike of the wooden swords echoed through the quiet yard like a heartbeat.
He wasn't watching this time. He was thinking.
The visions from the storm still haunted him — the battlefield, the soldiers, the voice that called him Commander Ardyn.
He'd told no one.
But the memory of that ghostly sword refused to fade.
Sometimes, when he closed his eyes, he could still feel its weight in his hand.
---
Lyra's voice broke the silence.
"There you are!"
She ran up the hill, her braid bouncing behind her. She was carrying something wrapped in cloth.
"You missed breakfast again," she scolded.
"I wasn't hungry," Cael said.
"Liar." She plopped down beside him and unwrapped a warm pastry. "You're always hungry after thinking too much."
He smiled faintly. "You talk too much for both of us."
"That's because you talk like an old man."
He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Maybe I am one."
Lyra tore the pastry in half and handed him a piece. "Then this old man better eat."
He took it with a small nod. "Thank you."
They ate quietly. The sun rose higher, burning away the mist. The sound of the guards' training faded as Thane dismissed them for a break.
Lyra leaned against Cael's shoulder. "You know," she said, "Mother's been worried. You've been quiet lately. Quieter than usual."
"I'm fine."
"You always say that."
He hesitated. "Because it's easier than explaining what's wrong."
"Then try."
He looked at her — really looked at her. Bright eyes. Warm smile. A lightness that didn't exist in his old world.
If he told her the truth, she'd never understand. How could she?
Even he didn't fully understand.
"Maybe later," he said softly.
Lyra sighed dramatically. "You always say that, too."
Before he could answer, a voice called from the training yard.
"Cael! Come here a moment!"
It was Sir Thane.
---
The old knight stood near the practice field, arms crossed. "You've been staring long enough, boy. Time to see what you've learned."
Cael blinked. "Me? But I—"
"No excuses. Pick up a wooden blade."
Lyra giggled from behind him. "You're in trouble."
He shot her a look. "Thanks for the encouragement."
She grinned innocently.
Cael stepped forward and picked up one of the practice swords. It felt light — almost too light. He took a deep breath and mimicked Thane's stance.
"Good," Thane said. "Now, strike."
Cael hesitated. The memories flickered again — a dozen forms, hundreds of battles, movements drilled into his bones.
He exhaled and moved.
The sword sliced through the air with fluid precision.
Step. Pivot. Counter. Parry.
Every motion flowed into the next, effortless and exact.
Thane's expression hardened. "Again."
Cael obeyed. His body moved faster, smoother, stronger.
The knight raised a hand. "Stop."
Cael froze.
Thane studied him silently for a long moment. "Where did you learn that form?"
"I didn't," Cael said. "It just… felt right."
Thane's eyes narrowed. "That wasn't instinct. That was training. You fight like a man who's seen war."
Cael swallowed. "Maybe I dreamed it."
The old knight frowned but said nothing more. He clapped Cael's shoulder. "Dreams can teach strange things. But if you ever want to learn for real, come see me. Your stance could use work."
He turned away, but there was something unsettled in his eyes.
Cael exhaled slowly, lowering the sword. His hands were shaking. Not from fear — from something deeper.
Something was waking inside him.
---
That night, the dreams returned again.
He was standing on a ridge, rain pouring around him. His army below shouted his name. The enemy advanced in waves, endless and furious.
He raised his sword, shouting, "For the light of the world!"
And then—
He woke.
Except… he wasn't in bed anymore.
He was standing. Outside.
Barefoot, trembling, in the middle of the courtyard.
The mark on his palm was glowing — brighter than ever before.
Wind swirled violently around him, pulling at his hair and clothes. The air shimmered, blue and gold.
He tried to move, but his body refused to listen.
A whisper echoed inside his head:
> "Echo of Ardyn Vale, awaken."
His heartbeat thundered in his ears. The light spread from his hand up his arm, searing his skin but leaving no wound.
Lyra's voice screamed in the distance, "Cael!"
He couldn't respond.
The wind roared louder. The ground trembled.
And then — everything stopped.
For a heartbeat, the world froze.
Raindrops hung motionless in the air. The torches flickered mid-flame. Even the night itself seemed to hold its breath.
In that stillness, Cael saw them.
Dozens of translucent figures surrounding him — armored soldiers glowing faintly blue, kneeling as one.
> "Protect the Commander."
"The enemy approaches."
"We'll hold the line."
Their voices overlapped, forming a chorus of ghosts.
Cael's eyes widened. "No… no, this isn't real."
One of the spirits stepped forward — a tall man with a shattered helm and kind eyes.
> "You carried us once," the spirit said softly. "Now we'll carry you."
Cael shook his head. "You're gone. You're all gone!"
> "Not gone," the spirit replied. "Echoes never die."
The light flared. The air cracked like thunder.
Lyra reached for him just as a burst of blue energy erupted outward, sending a shockwave through the courtyard.
When the light faded, Cael was lying unconscious on the ground.
Lyra dropped to her knees beside him, tears streaming down her face. "Cael! Wake up!"
Sir Thane and the guards rushed in seconds later, weapons drawn. The old knight froze at the sight of the glowing mark on Cael's hand.
"That's…" Thane whispered. "An Aethermark."
---
Hours later, Cael stirred in his bed. His vision blurred, his body weak.
Lyra sat beside him, clutching his hand tightly. "You scared me," she whispered.
He blinked slowly. "What… happened?"
Thane stood in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. "You lost control. A surge. I've seen powerful mages do it, but never like that."
"A surge?" Cael repeated.
"When the body channels too much Aether — raw emotional energy — it explodes outward. Most people can't survive one. You did."
Cael tried to sit up, wincing. "The voices… the soldiers… were they real?"
Thane hesitated. "Maybe not to anyone else."
He stepped closer. "Listen, boy. Don't show that mark to anyone. Not even your parents. There are people out there who'd take you away for it."
Cael looked down at his hand. The faint blue sigil was pulsing gently, like a heartbeat beneath the skin.
"What does it mean?"
Thane sighed. "It means the past isn't done with you yet."
---
That night, when the house finally went quiet, Cael stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep.
His body felt heavy, but his mind was racing.
Echoes. Aether. Soldiers who shouldn't exist.
And the whisper — the one that spoke his old name.
Ardyn Vale.
He pressed a hand over the mark, feeling it throb faintly against his skin.
Somewhere deep inside, a voice answered.
> "You can't hide forever, Commander."
Cael closed his eyes, whispering back, "Then I'll learn to fight differently this time."
---
End of Chapter 4 – Echo Surge