Ignarion sighed, rubbing his temple.
"Kaelya, how are we supposed to explain this if we don't even understand the newborn soul ourselves?"
Kaelya let out a long breath of frustration.
"I'm too exhausted for this," she muttered. "Just take him for now. I'll contact you if—when—I figure it out."
Without another word, she turned and walked back into the lake. This time, she didn't float in peaceful meditation. She fully submerged, disappearing beneath the surface as if the water itself could wash away her responsibilities.
Ignarion blinked after her, then looked down at Orion, who was still curled in his arms like an overgrown catnip-drunk kitten.
"Well, question for you two," he said, lifting Orion with one arm like he weighed nothing. "What do you want to do with Frieda's body?"
Orion's brows furrowed. His expression flickered—grief, confusion, then numb detachment.
Then, a softer voice emerged, one layered with sorrow and strength.
"I'll answer. It's my body." Frieda's soul spoke through Orion, a bittersweet smile on his lips.
"It would only hurt him to see it again. Let's bury it."
Ignarion nodded solemnly.
With a quiet flick of his fingers, the earth beneath the ancient tree shifted. The body was laid to rest in silence, cradled by the roots of the Womb of Arian.
"Let's go." He paused, eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. "To meet your… parents? Or in-laws? Or… both? Ugh, this is confusing."
He sighed, cradling Orion in his arms like the world's most divine chaos baby. A rift shimmered open before them.
Ignarion stepped through.
In the Aethercastle, a sudden rift tore open in the space between King Orion and Queen Minerva.
From its shimmering depths stepped Ignarion, cradling the limp form of Prince Orion in his arms.
"Crown Ignarion…!" King Orion gasped, immediately rushing forward.
"What happened?" Queen Minerva echoed, chasing after him with wide, worried eyes.
Ignarion paused, thoughts flickering behind his crimson gaze.
I can't tell them about the soul fusion. Not yet. Not when even we don't fully understand what's inside him.
He composed himself—barely.
"Orion is… emotionally healed," Ignarion said, the uncertainty still bleeding into his tone. "But… he won't be able to walk for a while."
"That's wonderful news!" King Orion beamed, gently taking his son from Ignarion's arms and laying him on the nearby bed.
Ignarion blinked. "What are you doing?"
"Well, you said he can't walk," Queen Minerva replied as she moved to her husband's side. "We're going to take care of him, obviously."
Ignarion pinched the bridge of his nose.
"No. He won't be resting." His voice carried more weight now. "Mother has given her orders. Since Prince Orion is critical to the task, his training must begin immediately."
"But he literally can't stand," Queen Minerva protested, hands clenching at her sides.
Prince Orion groaned softly, trying to sit up.
"Um… Mother, it's alright. I'm needed—"
"Hush." Queen Minerva snapped. "You won't be going anywhere until you've recovered."
Ignarion exhaled, tone flat.
"Then you leave me no choice."
With a wave of his hand, Orion floated upward once more, limbs dangling helplessly.
"I only brought him here to say goodbye. He'll be gone for a long time."
"HUH?!" Orion blinked. "Wait, I didn't even—what's going on? Can someone explain anything to me first!?"
Too late.
With a snap of Ignarion's fingers, both he and Orion vanished into thin air.
They reappeared in a vast, desolate realm—a 100-meter-wide stone platform suspended in nothingness.
No walls. No sky. Just a cliff at the platform's edge that descended into a formless, swirling void.
Ignarion landed gracefully on the stone floor. Orion, on the other hand, flopped down like a sack of poorly packed potatoes.
"Oops. My bad." Ignarion gave a faint, almost smug smile. "Looks like I'm getting rusty too."
It had been five months since Orion's departure.
The royal guards escorted Queen Minerva, King Orion, and Seraphyx back into his private chambers.
"Another successful festival," Seraphyx said with a soft smile, closing the doors behind them.
"The Arians have long accepted Mother's presence now."
Minerva and King Orion leaned close to him, affectionately clinging to his sides.
"You've been arranging all these festivals so Mother Rosen can spend time with everyone…" Minerva muttered with a playful pout. "But what about us? You don't coddle us anymore."
Seraphyx chuckled, brushing a hand through their hair.
"Hard to believe you two are considered royalty. If the other children saw this, their respect for the crown might evaporate."
They laughed softly, but the mood shifted when the king asked:
"Mother Seraphyx… any news of our son?"
Seraphyx's smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful look.
"I've spoken with Ignarion. Orion managed to stand on his own after nine months. And now, at ten… he's made impressive progress in his training."
Minerva blinked.
"Wait—ten months? But it's only been five here."
Seraphyx nodded.
"Time flows differently where they are. It bends. What you need to focus on is that he's alive, and he's becoming stronger every day."
He ruffled their hair gently. "He's still your son. Even if… he's no longer just one soul."
Cut to: The Training Realm
A massive, floating platform stretched across the void—silent, stark, endless.
At its edge sat Ignarion, perched atop a black crystalline throne, legs crossed and wine glass in hand, swirling its contents with mild disinterest.
Below him, on the stone floor, Orion battled a small Frost Dragon.
Its shimmering white scales reflected the voidlight above. Instead of horns, a regal crown of feathered spines adorned its head, and its wings spread like blades of mist and moonlight—elegant, deadly, otherworldly.
Orion dodged, pivoted, and lashed out—his movements graceful, but clearly borrowed from Frieda's influence. Where strength lacked, fluidity made up the difference.
Ignarion took a sip, unimpressed.
"You have no talent for fighting, Orion," he said, voice calm, almost lazy.
"If it weren't for Frieda, that little thing would've devoured you long ago."
Orion grunted as he barely avoided a burst of frost, muttering between breaths:
"Thanks… for the pep talk… Sensei."
Ignarion didn't even glance up.
"I will hurl this wine glass at you."
Ignarion drained the last of his wine and stood, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder.
"Time's up."
On cue, both Orion and the Frost Dragon Felix halted mid-movement, staggering slightly before collapsing to the floor—exhausted.
Ignarion approached, boots echoing softly across the stone platform.
"Looks like Felix isn't much of a challenge for you anymore," he said, casting a glance at the dragon.
"Though, let's be honest—it's only because Frieda keeps taking over during the fights."
He reached out, gently caressing Felix's shimmering head as the creature curled up beside him with a low hum.
"I had to beg Yandelf for the weakest Frost Dragon she had." He gave Felix a fond but unapologetic look.
"Sorry, Felix. But it's true."
He turned back to Orion, exhaling sharply.
"And yet… even after a whole month of walking again, you still can't defeat him."
Orion groaned and sat up, glaring—only for his expression to shift. His mismatched eyes gleamed, and the left one—cool and crystalline—flared brighter.
"Shut up. It's not like you're training him," Frieda snapped through Orion's lips.
Ignarion didn't flinch.
"Frieda," he said, voice even. "If I'm going to teach him what I know, he needs to at least meet the minimum standard."
He ran a hand through his crimson hair, irritation creeping into his tone.
"I'm not about to risk him getting injured because he can't stand on his own."
He sighed again, but this time... quieter.
Almost reluctant.
//Side note, I won my 50/50 and got skirk, Plus another side note, My college entrance exams are coming, I need your support, wish me luck.//