Chapter 71: Information on my lost Five years

Chapter 71: Chapter 71: Information on my lost Five years

Theon’s gaze stayed fixed on Cryvathar, unwilling to look away even for a moment.

The room still bore the marks of everything that had happened only hours earlier. A single candle burned low on the nightstand, its flame unsteady, throwing long shadows across walls that still smelled faintly of smoke drifting in from outside.

For several seconds nobody spoke. The words the ancient being had just spoken still echoed through the quiet chamber, heavy and impossible to ignore. They seemed to hang in the air long after they had been said, refusing to fade.

"A spirit can help with that."

Theon slowly leaned forward. The residual ache in his limbs made the movement deliberate, each shift of his weight a small negotiation with his own body. The faint scent of ash and cold stone still lingered in the air, a quiet reminder of the battle that had torn through the mountain only hours before.

"Wait."

Cryvathar glanced at him. The transparent figure stood motionless, yet the temperature around him felt a fraction cooler than the rest of the room, as though the air itself remembered what he was.

"Is it really possible?"

"Yes."

The answer came without hesitation. The single syllable carried the weight of certainty, and something in the way Cryvathar said it left no room for doubt.

Theon’s expression brightened. A sharp, almost painful hope rose in his chest, so sudden it left his breathing uneven for a moment. He had not expected an answer this simple, not after everything he had already lost.

Five years were not just numbers on a page. They were birthdays he hadn’t lived through, conversations he would never get to have, the ordinary shape of a life quietly taken from him without his consent. Getting even a fraction of that back felt like more than he had any right to hope for.

"Then how?"

He pushed himself upright despite the lingering pain that pulled at every muscle. The wooden frame of the bed creaked under the shift of his weight, protesting the movement as much as his own body did.

"What do I need to do?"

Cryvathar looked at him for a long moment. His ancient gaze felt heavier than it should, as if it carried the weight of centuries rather than mere consideration.

"Are you really willing to do it?"

Theon frowned. The muscles along his jaw tightened. "Of course I am." His voice was firm, stripped of every usual layer of sarcasm. "If there’s even a small chance of getting those five years back, I’m going to take it."

Lazaria folded her arms. The soft rustle of her sleeves was loud in the quiet room.

"Come on. Speak up already."

Cryvathar slowly turned his head toward her. His eyes landed on her with a coldness that made the atmosphere shift, and a faint pressure settled over the room, like the quiet before a storm.

Lazaria’s expression immediately became awkward, a visible tension running through her shoulders.

"What?"

Cryvathar looked away. The pressure eased, though the cold edge in his voice remained.

"The Spirit Sovereign."

Theon blinked. "What?"

"You need to meet the Spirit Sovereign."

"The Spirit Sovereign?" The words sounded almost mythical as they left his mouth. Theon had heard stories about spirits that existed among mortals, but a Spirit Sovereign was something entirely different, something that belonged to legends older than most kingdoms still standing.

Cryvathar nodded once. "That’s all I can reveal for now."

Theon stared at him. The faint candlelight caught the hard line of his mouth.

"That’s all?"

"Yes."

"You’re telling me that there’s a being capable of restoring five years of my life, and that’s all you’re going to tell me?"

Cryvathar didn’t answer. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant wind brushing against the balcony shutters outside.

Theon sighed, the breath leaving him in a controlled stream. "Fine." He paused, the ache in his body reminding him how much he still needed to recover before he could think about chasing legends. "Where are you going?"

Cryvathar looked toward Seraphina. The woman with crimson hair sat quietly nearby, still looking pale and weak, her presence almost fragile against the dim room.

"I need to take her somewhere."

"To where?"

Cryvathar’s expression became irritated. A faint crease appeared between his brows.

"Boy, there are some things you shouldn’t pry into."

Theon opened his mouth, then stopped himself. He slowly exhaled, the sound soft against the quiet.

"All right." His eyes moved toward Seraphina, catching the faint tremor still visible in her hands. "But she’s still weak, right?"

Cryvathar didn’t answer immediately.

"It’s been five thousand years," Theon continued. "She probably can’t even walk properly yet."

Theon glanced at her again, trying to imagine what five thousand years of stillness might have done to a person, and finding that he couldn’t quite picture it.

"I know."

"And you’re still transparent, still in your Astral Form."

Cryvathar looked down at his own transparent body. The outline of his form wavered slightly in the candlelight, as though even he had briefly forgotten what he currently was.

Theon raised an eyebrow. "How exactly are you planning to carry her?"

Cryvathar’s hand slowly moved toward his forehead. For a moment he seemed to realize the problem, and a rare flicker of something almost like embarrassment crossed his face.

"...That’s true."

Lazaria covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. The soft sound of her suppressed amusement was the only lightness in the room.

Theon shook his head. "If you guys are willing to stay here for a while, I don’t really mind."

Seraphina looked at him. Her voice was quiet, almost fragile. "Really?"

"Yes." Theon shrugged, the motion pulling faintly at the residual soreness in his shoulders. "After all, I’m the one who freed you. The least I can do is take responsibility by letting you stay here."

Cryvathar considered him briefly. "You’re sure?"

"Yeah."

Cryvathar looked around the room, and the candle flames nearest to him flickered once, as though responding to some thought he hadn’t spoken aloud.

"But I can’t remain out in the open like this."

Theon immediately noticed the suspicious look crossing Cryvathar’s face, and a matching wariness rose in him.

"What are you thinking?"

Lazaria answered before Cryvathar could. "You want to occupy his body again, don’t you?"

Cryvathar smiled, the expression thin and almost tired. "That’s the only way I can remain in this world for now."

Theon sighed. The weight of the decision settled over him, and a thought quietly ran through his mind.

*After all the rude comments he made, he still wants to occupy my body. Then again, to be fair, he’s the one who revealed how to get my lost years back, so I suppose I can allow this. It would be reassuring to have him around too, especially with his knowledge.*

"Fine."

Cryvathar looked at him.

"But there’s one condition," Theon said.

"Name it?"

"You don’t forcefully take control of my consciousness."

Cryvathar’s smile disappeared. "Agreed."

Something in the moment felt different now that terms had actually been set, more real than it had a minute earlier.

Theon nodded. "Alright, do it."

A strange pressure suddenly surrounded him. For a moment the room seemed to grow heavier, the air thickening and pressing against his skin like a physical weight. Cryvathar’s transparent body slowly dissolved into streams of faint energy, and that energy entered Theon’s body in a cool, almost liquid sensation that slid beneath his skin and settled somewhere deep in his mind. For a moment he braced for pain, but none came. Instead there was only a strange fullness, as though a second presence had quietly moved into a room inside him that he hadn’t realized was empty.

Theon closed his eyes. A strange sensation passed through him, like a second heartbeat settling into place beside his own. Then it disappeared.

When he opened his eyes again, nothing seemed different, except for the faint presence he could feel somewhere inside his mind, quiet and watchful.

Cryvathar’s voice echoed inside him, calm and clear.

"There. Satisfied?"

Theon sighed. "Unfortunately."

Lazaria shook her head. "You two are unbelievable." There was no real bite to the words, only the tired amusement of someone who had long since stopped being surprised by either of them.

Theon turned toward Seraphina. "Lazaria, take her to one of the chambers."

Lazaria nodded. "Understood."

She walked over and helped Seraphina to her feet. Seraphina still looked weak, her legs trembling slightly under her own weight. Lazaria immediately supported her, one arm steady around her waist.

"Easy."

Seraphina nodded, the motion small. "Thank you."

The two of them slowly left the room, the soft sound of their footsteps fading down the corridor until silence settled back over the chamber. Theon exhaled slowly, finally alone with his own thoughts and the quiet, unfamiliar presence still settled somewhere behind them.

Theon then walked toward the balcony. The night air brushed against his face, cool and carrying the distant scent of smoke. The moment he looked down, his expression changed.

Nova was still lying on the ground.

Theon stared. "What is he still doing there?"

Silver looked at him. "We all crash landed, Master." She gestured toward the floor. "Of course he’s still there."

Theon sighed. "Right." He pointed toward Nova. "Put him on a bed."

Silver nodded. "Understood."

She moved toward Nova and lifted him with careful strength. The primordial demon’s body hung limp in her arms, utterly still except for the faint rise and fall of his chest.

Theon remained on the balcony long after Silver had carried Nova away, in no hurry to move. His gaze drifted toward the mountain, where the place the battle had taken place was still visible even from this distance. Smoke lingered faintly around the ruined landscape, a thin gray haze against the darkening sky, and here and there small fires still smoldered among the broken stone. The academy had barely recovered from what had happened there, and Theon suspected it would take far longer than a single night, or even a single season, for that to change.

He stared at it quietly, letting the scale of it truly sink in now that the fighting was finally over. It was strange to think that only hours ago, that same mountain had nearly been torn apart by forces he still didn’t fully understand, and that he had walked away from it still breathing, if barely.

Then he noticed something. The sun was already descending, orange light spreading across the horizon and painting the edges of the clouds in soft fire, a strange, quiet contrast to how violent the day had actually been.

Theon let out a slow breath and leaned against the balcony railing, the cool stone pressing against his palms. Somewhere behind his own thoughts, he could still feel Cryvathar’s presence settled quietly in place, watching without speaking, and he wondered how long it would take before that feeling stopped being strange.

"It’s already the end of the day."

He looked down at his hands. The residual tremor of exhaustion was still there, faint but impossible to ignore, a quiet reminder of everything the day had cost him. Between the battle, the revelation about the Spirit Sovereign, and now carrying an ancient spirit inside his own mind, it had been far too much for one afternoon.

"I’d better get some sleep."

His body still felt heavy, weighed down by more than simple fatigue. The loss of five years of his life was not something he could just set aside and forget, and even with all his strength, his body had not fully recovered from everything it had been put through. Whatever the Spirit Sovereign turned out to be, it would have to wait until he could stand on his own two feet without every muscle protesting the effort.

It was almost funny, in a tired sort of way, that after everything that had just happened, tomorrow still expected him to sit through ordinary lectures as if nothing at all had changed.

"I have lectures tomorrow."

He sighed. "What a headache."