Rune of Immortality

Even after breakfast had ended and Jacob was walking back to his room, a strange fog still lingered over his mind. He didn't speak to anyone on the way, though that wasn't unusual in itself, he rarely initiated conversations but this silence felt different. It wasn't calculated distance or emotional caution, it was something more instinctive, like his thoughts had detached themselves from his surroundings, looping back on themselves with too much momentum to stop.

Arthur followed behind him without a word, keeping his distance just enough to let Jacob remain undisturbed, yet close enough to show he wasn't going anywhere. The silence between them wasn't awkward, not after all they'd been through, and perhaps Arthur sensed Jacob's mind was preoccupied by something more than his usual melancholy.

Jacob's thoughts were a tangled, excited mess.

'Lazarus... the Lazarus… he's interested in our summaries. In one of us. He's lived for centuries and never taken a student before what are the chances he'll choose me?'

As they stepped into his room, Jacob walked directly to his drawer and began sifting through its contents with purpose. He pulled out a robe, a finely-woven black and brown garment, trimmed subtly with threads of sky blue. It bore the crest of House Skydrid, stitched over the chest with proud detail: a raven climbing toward a blinding sun, wings outstretched like it would reach divinity.

'If I had known Lazarus would be interested, I would have written something better, more refined, more calculated. Why did I tone it down so much?'

His summary made his aspect seem impressive enough, formidable, even but not extraordinary, and certainly not transcendent. He knew it was better than Arthur's, considering he'd helped write both, but the problem was Abel. Abel was brilliant in his own detached way, and there was no telling how much effort he had put into his summary or how accurately it showcased his potential. If Lazarus was seeking something that hinted at the abstract or divine, Abel might have handed it to him on a silver plate.

Still, it was too late to rewrite anything now.

With a quiet breath, Jacob stepped into the bathroom and washed himself quickly, letting the cold water clear his head. After dressing, he returned to the mirror and adjusted the collar of his robe with meticulous care. He glanced behind him. Arthur still stood near the door, leaning slightly against the wall, lost in his own thoughts.

"Won't you get ready?" Jacob asked, breaking the quiet.

Arthur blinked and looked up as if he'd forgotten where he was. "My clothes haven't arrived yet," he admitted with a faint smile, plucking at his worn shirt. "This is all I've got."

Jacob didn't say anything at first. He simply turned back to his wardrobe, rummaged through it, and tossed a grey robe toward Arthur. It had crimson lining and was slightly too big for Jacob, which meant it would likely fit Arthur perfectly.

"Wear that and be quick."

Arthur caught the robe, his eyes widening for a second as he examined the fabric. "Thanks," he said sincerely, before rushing into the bathroom to get cleaned up.

Jacob waited until he heard the water running before turning to one of the small drawers near his bed. He pulled out a thin glass vial, scarlet in colour, the liquid inside fizzed softly as though alive. The moment he popped the seal, a heavy, ashen scent filled the room, sharp and bitter.

"What the hell is that?" Arthur's voice rang out from the bathroom, startled. "Is everything alright?"

Jacob grimaced as he raised the potion to his lips. He didn't answer.

The liquid burned on the way down, but he didn't wince. He waited.

A moment later, a pressure in his chest, a low, smouldering fire of resentment he kept tightly guarded sputtered out. His muscles relaxed. The fury that had almost risen earlier simply vanished, like it had never existed. A cool sensation flowed through his veins, leaving behind something calm. Hollow, but calm.

'It never fails', he thought.

The potion was called Fury's Temper. A dangerous mix of emotional suppressants, rare herbs, and trace mana elements designed not to control the body, but to subdue the mind. Why would he take something like that? Because today, they would be brought before their mentors and more importantly, the royal family. And within that cursed lineage stood the boy who had ruined his life, a prince dressed in gold and smiling like he hadn't destroyed Lucas's future. Samuel.

Just thinking of the name had nearly set Jacob off earlier. Now, the emotion was gone. Not forgotten, never forgotten but distant. Manageable.

Arthur stumbled out of the bathroom with half-dried hair and remnants of soap still clinging to his skin. His expression was full of concern.

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"I smelled something weird. Nothing exploded, right?"

Jacob raised a brow and motioned with his hand. "You look ridiculous. Get back in there and finish cleaning up."

Arthur looked down, laughed sheepishly, and obeyed.

Soon enough, both boys were dressed and standing before the family carriage a sleek, dark vehicle reinforced with silver rims and carved detailing, the Skydrid crest proudly emblazoned on both sides. Belemir stood at attention beside the door, waiting only a second before stepping forward to open it. He helped Jacob in first, then Arthur, before climbing in himself and signalling the driver.

The carriage rolled forward with a gentle lurch, its wheels humming softly against the stone-paved road as it set course for the royal palace.

Jacob, as usual, took the window seat. It was his preferred spot, quiet, detached, perfect for thinking. He leaned his head against the cool pane of glass and started tapping his fingers absentmindedly. A pattern emerged almost instantly: steady, rhythmic, oddly deliberate. It wasn't just nervous drumming it was a tune. A real one. A song with structure and flow, something that clung to the edge of familiarity without ever fully forming into recognition.

Arthur eventually glanced over and tilted his head. "What song is that, anyway?"

Jacob paused, lifting his eyes briefly, then looked down, furrowing his brow. He kept his fingers still for a long moment, then resumed tapping, slower this time, as if hoping that would help him recall it. The carriage fell into silence.

"I… don't know," Jacob said finally.

He didn't sound confused. He sounded disturbed.

It wasn't the act of forgetting that bothered him, everyone forgot things now and then. If he had once known the song and simply couldn't remember it, he could live with that. But no, he was certain he had never heard this tune before in his life. Not at a festival. Not at home. Not anywhere. It had simply… appeared, fully formed, and embedded itself in his hands like it had always been there.

He tried to trace it back. When had he started tapping it? Before his aspect? No back then, he had always resorted to familiar songs. One of his mother's lullabies. A marketplace jingle. Something from childhood, full of melody and memory. But this rhythm, this song only began after he awakened his aspect.

His heart rate climbed. He didn't show it, not outwardly, but sweat had started to gather near his collar. The implications disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.

'What has my aspect done to me?'

It wasn't just the song. That was only the beginning. Ever since he'd awakened his aspect, things had begun to change, subtle things at first, then less subtle as time passed. His nightmares had worsened, and lately, fragments of those dreams began to linger long after waking.

And in all of them, there was one common thread: Lucas.

He had suspected it for a while that the nightmares and his lost brother were connected but now, he knew. It wasn't just speculation anymore. It felt certain, like some part of him already understood the truth and was simply waiting for the rest to catch up.

Then there were his emotions.

They'd become harder to control. Moments that should've passed without notice, things he would've brushed off only months ago now sparked reactions. Real, tangible ones. His anger toward Samuel was growing sharper by the day, not fading with time like it should. And earlier, when he walked out of the meeting hall with Arthur… had he felt pity?

He hadn't felt pity in years. Not even before he closed himself off.

Jacob clenched his fists.

'Aspects aren't supposed to change people.'

He had read enough books to know that. An aspect was shaped by your soul, yes, it mirrored who you already were. But it wasn't supposed to alter you. Not like this. Not enough to implant songs into your mind or change how you felt toward people you barely knew.

And yet, something was changing.

Just as the anxiety reached a boiling point, Belemir shifted from his seat and gently placed a hand on Jacob's shoulder. His touch was light, but it snapped Jacob back to the present.

"Young master," Belemir said softly, "if something is wrong, we can reschedule. I'm certain young master Abel wouldn't mind."

Jacob turned his head slowly and met Belemir's concerned gaze. He held it for a few seconds, then shook his head. "It's nothing. Don't worry."

Belemir nodded, though his expression didn't soften. He returned to his seat, but his posture remained alert.

Jacob leaned back again, resting his head against the side of the carriage. His thoughts tried to return to the spiralling mess from earlier but something was wrong.

'What was I even thinking about just now?'

The thought vanished. Cleanly. Not in the usual way thoughts drift off, but like something had swept it away, scrubbed it clean, and left nothing behind.

Frowning, he turned to Arthur. "What question did you just ask me?"

Arthur blinked, surprised by the suddenness of it. He tilted his head, uncertain. "Uh… I think I asked if you're excited to see Lazarus?"

Jacob nodded slowly. "Right… that was it."

He leaned back again and forced a breath through his nose. 'That's what I was thinking about, he told himself. Lazarus. The chance he won't pick me. That's all. I just overreacted.'

He said it again in his head. Over and over.

'I just overreacted.'

The ride continued in near silence after that. The streets narrowed, and the buildings gave way to carefully trimmed gardens and tall marble walls. As they approached the royal district, two armoured guards stood by the gate, their expressions blank behind ceremonial helms. When they saw the Skydrid crest, they nodded and stepped aside without a word, the towering gates creaking open in silence.

The carriage passed through and rolled to a stop at the foot of the palace's front steps.

Jacob stepped out the moment the wheels locked in place. He didn't wait for Arthur or Belemir. His boots struck the stone path with steady rhythm as he moved forward, eyes locked on the ornate golden doors of the palace. Arthur followed without hesitation.

Most would walk slowly in a place like this. The palace demanded decorum and respect. But Jacob had been here before, many times, and he didn't care for the performance. Not anymore.

To his right, another carriage stood parked just ahead, its sigil clearly visible: a swirling black hole ringed by stormy grey clouds. The Ranti family.

'Of course,', Jacob thought. 'They're already here.'

A royal guard standing at the entrance stepped forward and bowed deeply. "The royal family is waiting for you."

Jacob didn't respond. Neither did Arthur.

Together, they stepped past the threshold and into the grand entrance hall, where gilded arches soared overhead and the weight of centuries watched in silence.

This was it.

The moment they would meet their mentors.

And perhaps, the moment Jacob would begin to understand just how much his aspect had truly changed him.