Chapter 46: Whispering Dreams

Chapter 46: Chapter 46: Whispering Dreams

Soon after the short test battle class ended and theon and his comrade returned to their chambers. The floating bridges outside the Imperial Dormitory glowed softly under the night sky as Blue mana lights ran along the edges like rivers of stars, and somewhere deep in the mountain, distant bells rang one after another, slow and calm, as if the academy itself had fallen into a peaceful dream.

Theon stood alone on the balcony.

Cold night air brushed against his face as he looked toward the tallest building in the academy.

Ever since he had entered the Hall of Resonance, a strange feeling had stayed with him. It was hard to explain. He felt as if something inside that building had noticed him the moment he stepped in.

Something connected to the Eternal Frostblade.

He rested his hands on the balcony railing and narrowed his eyes. The building stood silent in the distance, surrounded by floating platforms and drifting mist. Yet the more he looked at it, the stronger the feeling became, as if invisible eyes were watching him from behind ancient walls.

Behind him, the suite had already grown quiet.

Lyra had fallen asleep almost immediately after dinner, completely worn out from the excitement of the day. He could still hear her faint breathing from the next room.

Lazeria had returned to her own room after thanking him once again for helping her settle into the dormitory. Even while thanking him, she had spoken with that same shy hesitation she never seemed able to hide.

As for Ifrith, he was nowhere to be seen.

Which usually meant trouble.

Or curiosity.

Or both.

Theon shook his head lightly and finally stepped back inside and he closed balcony doors with a soft click behind him.

He lay down on the bed, and the blue mana lamps automatically dimmed until the room was covered in a faint, gentle glow.

A long breath escaped his lips.

Today had been exhausting.

The shattered resonance globe.

The sealed result.

The applause in the hallway that had sounded more like judgment than admiration.

The placement battle against Instructor Kaelus, close enough that his arms still carried a dull ache.

And that strange blue door that had reacted to him as if it remembered him from somewhere he could not remember himself.

He stared at the ceiling.

Again and again, he replayed the day in his mind, trying to connect the pieces.

The sealed result.

The glowing door.

The sword that kept trying to answer something he could not hear.

None of it felt random.

It felt deliberate.

As if someone had scattered pieces of a puzzle across his path and was waiting for him to notice the pattern.

Part of him wanted to ask his father directly.

But his father was far away now, back in the imperial palace, surrounded by the princes and princesses who would gladly see Theon disappear forever.

Another part of him wanted to ask Selene.

Yet he had seen the uncertainty in her eyes when the resonance globe shattered.

She did not know everything either.

For now, all he had were questions.

And questions were terrible companions for sleep.

His fingers moved toward the storage ring on his hand.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the Eternal Frostblade answered with a single pulse of cold Once again.

Soft.

Quiet.

Almost like a heartbeat.

Theon closed his eyes. Soon Sleep came immediately.

At first, there was only darkness. Then snow began to fall.

Endless snow.

Theon opened his eyes and found himself standing in a world of pure white.

There was no sky above him.

No sun.

No moon.

No stars.

Only an endless frozen plain stretching in every direction, silent in a way that made his ears feel heavy.

The cold should have been unbearable.

But he felt no pain.

Only a strange emptiness spreading through his chest, deep and hollow.

Then a sound echoed across the ice.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

Metal striking metal.

Far away.

Beyond the horizon then he started walking towards it.

His footsteps left no marks behind him. The snow remained smooth and untouched, as if the world refused to acknowledge that he existed.

Something about this place felt deeply wrong.

There was no wind.

No movement.

The air did not stir no matter how far he walked.

And the clanging never seemed closer or farther away.

It simply existed.

Waiting.

Patient.

The sound grew louder.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

The snowstorm suddenly split apart.

A colossal frozen throne rose before him.

It was carved from ice so pure that it glowed with a celestial blue light, casting pale reflections across the endless white world.

And upon that throne sat a man.

Silver hair.

Pale skin.

Eyes like frozen lightning trapped in the middle of a storm.

A cloak of ice and shadow flowed behind him, moving even though no wind existed.

Beside the throne rested a sword.

The Eternal Frostblade.

Not the type Theon has, this blade was complete.

Larger.

Older.

Far more terrifying.

It looked less like a weapon and more like a piece of the frozen world itself, forged from something that no longer existed in the present age.

Theon stopped.

The man did not move, yet the pressure radiating from him made the ice beneath Theon’s feet tremble.

Then Theon noticed something else.

Behind the throne, half hidden in darkness, stood a second sword.

Only part of it was visible.

A black hilt wrapped tightly in silver chains.

The moment Theon looked at it, sharp pain stabbed through his chest.

His storage ring burned.

Inside it, the Eternal Frostblade began to vibrate violently, as if it had recognized something it had been searching for.

The silver-haired man slowly raised his head.

Their eyes met.

And Theon felt as though he were being seen across centuries.

As if this man had been waiting for this exact moment for longer than Theon could understand.

Then the man smiled.

Not warmly.

Not cruelly.

Knowingly.

Like someone greeting a guest who had arrived far later than expected.

Then the frozen world cracked.

Blue fractures spread across the ice like shattered glass.

The snow stopped falling.

For a single heartbeat, everything became perfectly still.

Then the second sword moved.

The chains around it tightened with a metallic scream, as if they were struggling to hold back something that no longer wished to remain imprisoned.

A violent pull surged through Theon’s chest.

The Eternal Frostblade answered instantly.

Cold mana exploded through his body like a flood of ice water rushing through his veins.

The silver-haired man remained seated, watching him without blinking.

Patient.

Almost unbearably patient.

Then a voice echoed across the frozen world.

Not loud.

Not distant.

It came from everywhere at once. And it wrapped around him like the cold itself.

"Come to me."

Theon’s breath caught.

This was not the voice he had heard from the sword before.

This one was older.

Heavier.

Like a memory buried beneath countless years.

The chains around the second sword rattled again.

For a brief instant, darkness leaked from the blade and swallowed part of the horizon, spreading like ink through water.

The silver-haired man finally spoke.

And Every word was slow and deliberate.

"You are late."

Theon took an involuntary step forward.

"Who are you?"

No answer came.

Only that same knowing smile.

The man lifted the completed Frostblade.

The moment the blade rose, the entire frozen world shook violently.

Mountains of ice appeared in the distance.

Frozen seas stretched endlessly.

Ruined cities emerged beneath the snow, their broken towers reaching upward like the fingers of the dead.

Then Theon saw them.

Thousands of figures kneeling across the endless white plain.

Not dead.

Frozen.

As if time itself had stopped around them.

Some had their hands raised in pleading.

Others bowed so low that their foreheads nearly touched the ice.

A few still had their mouths open, trapped forever in the middle of a final word.

A chill ran through Theon that had nothing to do with the cold.

"What happened here?"

The silver-haired man looked past him, toward something far away that Theon could not see.

For once, his expression changed.

Not fear.

Regret.

Deep.

Quiet.

Ancient.

Then the second sword pulsed with black light.

The chains shattered.

The world exploded into darkness.

Theon woke with a sharp breath.

Cold air rushed into his lungs as if he had just surfaced from deep water.

His room was dark except for the faint glow of the mana lamps.

For a second, he did not know where he was.

Then the Imperial Dormitory came back into focus.

His heart was pounding.

And his storage ring was trembling.

The Eternal Frostblade vibrated so violently that frost was spreading across the metal. Tiny ice crystals crawled over the ring like frozen breath.

Theon sat up immediately.

"Stop."

He poured mana into the ring.

Then the vibration weakened.

Then it grew stronger again, resisting him with a stubbornness that felt almost alive.

The same cold pulse from the dream traveled up his arm.

And for a moment, he could almost hear the voice again.

*Come to me.*

Theon clenched his fist harder.

"No."

The room became colder.

Frost spread across the nearby table.

A glass of water froze solid with a soft crack.

Then, suddenly, the vibration stopped.

Silence.

Theon remained still for several seconds, forcing his breathing to calm.

"What was that?" he whispered.

That had not felt like an ordinary dream.

It had felt like a memory.

Or a summon.

Something that had been waiting for him for a very long time.

He looked toward the door.

Nothing.

Then a faint sound echoed through the corridor.

Click.

Theon’s eyes narrowed.

He stood and walked to the entrance.

The moment he opened the door, cold blue light flickered across the hallway.

The sealed door at the far end was glowing again.

Not as brightly as before.

Just enough to illuminate the ancient runes carved into its surface.

Pale.

Patient.

Theon stared at it.

The glow pulsed once.

Twice.

Then faded.

Silence returned.

Ifrith appeared beside him without a sound.

His crimson eyes caught the last traces of fading blue light.

"You felt it too?"

Theon nodded in response.

"The sword reacted."

Ifrith looked toward the sealed door, unusually serious.

"That door seems to have been closed for centuries determined by how old the seals on it is ."

"What’s behind it?" Theon asked.

Ifrith was quiet for a moment before answering.

"Something connected to the legacy you saw tonight."

Theon turned sharply.

"You know about the dream?"

"I know enough to recognize the pressure leaking from your sword right now."

His tail flicked once, tense rather than playful.

"Then tell me everything," Theon said quietly. "Not fragments."

For once, Ifrith hesitated.

"Some of it isn’t mine to tell yet," Ifrith said slowly. "Not because I want to hide it from you, but because I’m not entirely sure myself. What I felt tonight was old. Older than anything I’ve sensed since I was sealed away. If I guess wrong, I could send you in the wrong direction."

Theon studied him for a long moment.

Then he nodded, though frustration tightened his chest.

He trusted Ifrith enough to accept the answer.

Even if he hated it.

Theon looked back at the darkened door.

Frozen fields.

Kneeling figures.

The silver-haired man.

A frozen throne.

The two swords.

And the voice calling him with endless patience.

A thought slowly formed in his mind.

Cold but Clear

The Eternal Frostblade was not simply a powerful weapon.

It was a fragment of it’s true form.

And maybe he was only now beginning to hear it clearly.

Somewhere beyond that sealed blue door, there laid a piece of the answer waiting for him.

Whether he was ready for it or not.