**COLD.** My body shivers as I open my eyes as the blue liquid swallows me again—**thick, suffocating**, just like the dungeon. Muffled voices buzz through the haze. Then I see them: **five needles glinting**, creeping toward me like starving vipers.
I thrash. **My body won't move.**
The largest needle **painful slow pierces my forehead then a deep tired voice booms through the liquid.
**"You're our only hope, Aaron."**
The voice **vibrates through the fluid* as if it's a burial chant.
—
My eyes **SNAP OPEN.**
**GASP.**
Cold sweat **sheets my body**. My hands **claw at my chest**—heart **pounding loud enough to wake the dead.**
I lay back down as beams of sun Pierce through the window blinds. All I can think to myself is what was that dream.
**"AARON!!!"**
The door **SLAMS** open, Aiden's bulk nearly taking it off its hinges.
**"Oh. You're already up, sigh."** He scratches his stubble, looking almost disappointed he didn't get to yank me awake.
I rub the remaining sleep from my eyes. **"What time is it?"**
**"Past noon,"** he says, tossing a bundle of cloth at my face. **"Julianne insisted we let you sleep. Big day today."**
**"Huh? What's going on today?"**
**"She'll explain downstairs. At yesterday's table."** He's already halfway out the door when he adds: **" make sure to put on those new clothes we got them just for you"**
**CLICK.**
The door shuts and I stare at the outfit in my hands—**a dark blue fabric shirt with silver cufflink and soft black jeans. These look expensive I whispered to myself
The corridor's silence lets me linger on last night's dream—**too real, too vivid**. My fingers probe my forehead, finding **no needle marks, no wounds.**
**"Aaron! Over here!"** Julianne's voice **shatters** my thoughts.
She whistles as I approach. **"Wow. You clean up sharp."** Her boot **connects** with Aiden's shin under the table. **"Right, Aiden?"**
Aiden looks up from his turkey leg, grease **dripping down his chin**. **"Huh? Oh yeah. Almost looks like one of those noble brats—just without the stick up his—"**
**"We get it,"** Julianne growls as I sit.
**"So what's happening today?"** I ask, picking at the fancy sleeves.
Julianne straightens. **"We've got a... friend?
That owns a bookstore and he owes us a favor."** She hesitates. **"So we were thinking of making him your teacher."**
**"Why the clothes then?"**
**"He's... particular about cleanliness."**
Aiden **snorts**. **"That's one way to say 'completely batshit—'"**
**"OW!"** He jerks as Julianne's nails **dig into his arm**. **"He's *eccentric* Not insane."**
Aiden rubs his bicep. **"Yeah, whatever helps *you* sleep at night."**
Julianne, pissed off, stands abruptly and grabs my hand. **"We're leaving Aaron!"**
**"Wait at least let me finish my food"**
**"Go die in a hole she says before walking out, flipping him off."**
**'He's sighs talking one last bit before running after us"**
---
The bookstore **gleams** like a jewel amidst the muddy street—its wooden walls **polished mirror-bright**, windows **so clear they seem unreal**.
Julianne **sighs through her nose**. **"Let's go."**
**DING-A-LING!** The bell chimes as we enter.
**"Hey, you old bastard! We're back!"** Julianne shouts.
A door **SLAMS** open. A silver-haired man in a **pristine white suit** storms out all pissed off then **freezes**.
**"WHAT THE HELL?! YOU TWO HAD A KID TOGETHER?!?"**
Julianne's face **turns volcanic**. **"WHAT? NO! HE'S JUST SOME KID WE FOUND!"**
The old man **adjusts his glasses**. **"Ah. That makes *far* more sense than someone tolerating your personality long enough to—"**
**"Hah?!"** A vein **throbs** on Julianne's forehead.
**"Nothing, nothing,"** he chuckles. **"Just amazed Aiden hasn't ditched you yet."**
Julianne **Stomps** at the old man, fists clenched—but Aiden **Grabs** her collar, yanking her back like a rabid dog on a leash.
**"LET ME AT HIM!"** she snarls.
Aiden **tightens his grip**. **"Stop! We need his help, and pulverizing his face won't do anything.
**"Tch. FINE."** Julianne slaps his hand away, glaring daggers at the smirking old man. **"That fossil's gonna die alone anyway."**
**"Ahem. *Gramps*,"** Aiden cuts in.
**"We really do need your help."**
**"....Fine, let's talk in the backroom."** The man turns sharply.
Aiden nods at me. **"Aaron, wait here for a bit."**
**"Okay."**
**'Good, now Julianne Try not to murder Gramps before he agrees all right."**
**"Fine"**
**"We will be back soon Aaron bye"**And Just like that, they're gone.
Alone in the bookstore, I trail my fingers along the shelves. **Not a single fingerprint mars the wood.** Every spine sits **perfectly aligned**, every cover **free of dust**—like the whole place was **carved from ice** instead of old paper and ink.
I pause at a golden engraved book labeled the the **The twin lights of humanity** That title burns itself inside my head as if it's calling to me, instinctively I grabbed the book and begin to read
(**Chapter I: The Age of Darkness**)
(For millennia, humanity suffered beneath the cruel yoke of demonkind. We were but toys to them—broken, discarded, or devoured at their whims. Our ancestors cowered in the shadows, their lives measured not in years, but in the fleeting moments between one horror and the next. The demons had ruled with fangs of flame with no contest… until the day the first lights of humanity were born.)
**CHAPTER II: THE TWIN FLAMES**
*"From the void, they emerged: **Reinhardt, the Sword God**—his blade *Dawnbringer* shearing through darkness like judgment. And **Isabella, the Saintess**—her hands mending flesh, her voice soothing shattered minds. Together, they forged armies from survivors. Villages became fortresses. Fortresses became a kingdom. For the first time... humanity *fought back*."*
(**Chapter III: The Last Stand of the Demon King**)
(The war raged for decades, each victory hard-won, each loss a scar upon the heart of the fledgling kingdom. But the demons would not yield easily. In a final, desperate gambit, the Demon King gathered his legions and marched upon the last bastion of mankind—the great fortress of **Lumina's Resolve**.)
(What followed was a battle that shook the heavens themselves. Reinhardt and Isabella led the charge, their courage a beacon amidst the slaughter. The clash of steel and sorcery sundered the earth, and when the dust settled, the Demon King lay defeated—his reign of terror ended.)
(But triumph came at a cost too grave to bear).
(The Sword God and the Saintess had fallen, their lives spent to secure mankind's future.)
**Chapter IV: The Legacy of the Reinhardt Name**
With the demonic hordes scattered and broken, the survivors turned to the one other man who had stood beside Reinhardt through every trial: **Alexander, the Iron-Willed**.
Grief-stricken yet resolute, Alexander took the mantle of leadership and renounced his own name to **Reinhardt** as his own, ensuring his friend's sacrifice would never fade.
Words from King Alexander Reinhardt **"To forget the past is to invite its return. Let the name 'Reinhardt' be both our shield and our sword, now and forever"**
The name **'Reinhardt'** lingers in my mind like a half-remembered dream—**familiar yet hollow**, like hearing an echo of my own voice.
**"Why can't I remember?"** My fists clench, nails biting into my palms. The more I grasp at the memory, the faster it slips away.
**"Aaron? That you?"** Julianne's voice cuts through the musty air.
**"Ah, yes! Just over here!"** I wave awkwardly, the motion too quick. My heartbeat thrums against my ribs.
She rounds the shelf, eyebrow arched. **"There you are. Thought you'd wandered outside since you ignored me the first time."**
**"Oh, sorry! Didn't hear you. I was... reading."** I gesture to the golden tome now clutched too tightly in my hands.
Julianne **snatches it** with a smirk. **"A *book*? Let's see what's got you so entranced—"** Her smirk falters as she reads the title. **"You're reading *this*? Isn't this a bit... advanced for you?"**
**"No? Was it meant to be?"** I blink, thrown. The words had flowed so naturally—like breathing.
"No, just most kids your age can't even spell their own name, let alone reading an old history book."** Tossing it back to me, she jerks her thumb toward the back. **"Old bastard wants to talk to you. We'll be outside."**
As she strides away, I stare at the golden cover. The embossed title **burns** under my fingertips.