Weylan spent the rest of the day training his new master tier feat under Kaelthorne’s watchful guidance.

  The effect was subtle, but unmistakable. Training improvisation felt counterintuitive at first. How were you supposed to practice reacting to the unexpected? Still, it worked. Slowly. In strange, almost invisible ways. Movements flowed a little more naturally. Mistakes felt less punishing, more like alternate paths than failures.

  There were limits, though. Improvisation demanded novelty. New enemies. New environments. New problems that forced adaptation instead of repetition.

  After that, Kaelthorne had him experiment with new combinations of shadow magic layered into his sword staff work. That part went faster. Too fast. His mana reserves drained alarmingly quickly.

  With visible reluctance, she called an end to the session.

  Weylan grabbed a quick dinner and returned to his dorm room. He changed, washed off the grime and sweat of training, and then found himself standing still in the middle of the room.

  Maybe he could visit Stitch.

  He glanced out the window. The sun was already dipping toward the horizon, painting the academy walls in muted gold and copper. Autumn evenings were unfair like that. One moment it felt like afternoon, the next the day was already slipping away.

  They had spent a lot of time together over the past two days.

  But rarely alone.

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then back again. Would it be weird to show up again so soon? He did not want to be clingy. Or worse, annoying. Stitch was calm and patient, but that did not mean she wanted him hovering around her constantly like a lost familiar.

  Maybe she wanted quiet time. Rest after the beating she’d taken. He didn’t mention it, but she’d seemed five years older when she returned from the dungeon. After a night at the inn, she’d seemed to have recovered again and seemed normal. But maybe she still needed rest? Or study time? Or time without him getting in the way.

  On the other hand… maybe she would like it.

  That was the problem. He had no idea.

  Weylan sighed quietly and rubbed the back of his neck. Since when had thinking about visiting someone become more exhausting than fighting monsters?

  He imagined her in the library. Sitting among the shelves. Reading. Maybe looking up when he entered. Maybe smiling.

  His chest did something unhelpful at the thought.

  He groaned softly at himself.

  This was ridiculous.

  He dressed and grabbed his cloak. He was almost outside the dorm, when he heard Mirabelle’s voice from behind. “Weylan, wait a moment. Are you busy tonight?” she asked.

  Weylan blinked. Once. “I had some plans. Why? Do you need help?”

  Mirabelle clasped her hands behind her back. The gesture made her look younger than she was, which annoyed her, because she had not done it on purpose.

  "Can you escort me to the woods? I want to try something."

  He looked up, blinking. Mirabelle? Wanting to go outside? At this hour? Except for hunting and collecting herbs, there wasn’t much that required leaving the academy grounds. He glanced at her, her expression unreadable, the shadows of the hallway swallowing the rest of her form.

  "Into the woods?" Weylan repeated, not entirely sure what to make of it. “It’s almost sunset.”

  She nodded, her face half-hidden by the dark. "Yes. I want to try something, and there is a pond where that could work, at least there should be one. The maps aren’t very good. It needs to be done at night. On a moonless night. Like tonight."

  His eyebrows furrowed. It was definitely strange, but the more he thought about it, the more he wondered why she’d chosen him. Why not the other priestesses? Was this... was she asking him to come with her because she wanted help with something? Or... was it something else?

  "Is this, uh... something important?" Weylan asked, trying to keep his voice casual, but the uncertainty in his mind made it harder than he liked. Maybe she was just being her usual mysterious self, but... was this more than that? Did she mean just a walk? Or... was this some kind of request for something else? A bit like a date, even though he didn’t quite know how to interpret that yet.

  Mirabelle didn’t seem to notice his hesitation. "I think it might be," she said, her voice steady. "Just something I need to test out. Nothing dangerous, I promise."

  He hesitated, still unsure. But there was no reason to turn her down, right? It wasn’t like they were strangers. He was supposed to guard the priestesses. It was just a walk through the woods, no harm in that.

  "Alright," he said, shrugging. "I’ll go with you. Can’t let you go into the woods alone, can I?"

  A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks."

  As the sun set over the horizon, they left the academy by a side path that smelled of damp leaves. The wards along the outer wall hummed softly as they passed through, recognizing them without comment.

  Autumn had settled fully now. Leaves layered the ground in reds and browns, muffling their steps. Weylan walked slightly ahead, eyes open for trouble. Selvara circled overhead, adding a second layer of protection.

  As they walked through the academy grounds and into the darkened forest, the world around them grew quieter. The trees towered above them, blocking out most of the stars, and the only sound was the crunch of leaves beneath their feet. Weylan kept a few steps behind Mirabelle, his mind still turning over what she’d said. She’d been vague about what she was trying to do.

  He glanced at her occasionally, but she didn’t seem to notice, focused on the path ahead, her cloak brushing the ground with each step. There was a weird tension in the air, like something was about to happen. Maybe it was the late hour, or maybe it was just Mirabelle’s presence, so calm and collected.

  “So, what exactly are you trying to do?” he asked, attempting to break the silence.

  "I want to test a new technique," she said, her tone not giving much away. "Something a bit... unconventional. But it should be fine."

  Weylan felt the familiar knot of unease tighten in his chest. Unconventional? What did that mean? He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but he pushed the thought aside. She was Mirabelle, after all. The last person who would do something reckless. Right?

  They finally reached the edge of a small pond, its surface reflecting the inky blackness of the sky above, disturbed only by the occasional ripple. Mirabelle knelt beside the water, her eyes scanning the dark surface as though searching for something.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Alright,” she said, as if she’d been expecting the question. “Stay close. I’ll be quick.”

  * * *

  Mirabelle had checked old maps, pilgrim journals, even a half-burned ranger’s log she was not supposed to have. The forest marked the place only by omission. Paths bent around it and there had been a note about finding water Lillys in this area.

  She opened the forbidden book she’d traded in with the book-goblin and reread the relevant passage. A pond with no name, a night without moon, a sky without stars. Everything was perfect.

  She used a stick and rope to draw a circle next to the pond. It was impossible to draw on mud and dirt, but she didn’t need to. She used illusionary chalk, something the academy’s store sold surprisingly cheap since it was used mostly to create protection circles. And the academy approved of added security. The lines she drew floated above the ground, their red glow lighting up the shore. Then she placed candles around it and lit them, giving the place an almost romantic vibe.

  When she finished the circle and stood up again, Weylan spoke up. “That looks awfully like a summoning circle. Last time I saw one of those, undead started crawling out of the ground.”

  She held up a calming hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll not summon anything physical. Just a lost soul. More like a memory of the past.”

  He looked around. His shadowsight able to pierce the darkness, now that there was at least a bit of light. “For what purpose?”

  Mirabelle’s eyes started to glitter with fascination. “Did you know there’s a lot of the same structures and methodologies in healing and necromantic magic?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “No, and I’m not sure I wanted to know that. I hope I’ll forget that before I need another healing spell.” His eyes lit up and he smirked. “Wait, I think I understand. So, necromancy is the same as healing, just… a bit too late?”

  She grimaced. “That’s almost blasphemy. And not funny. I will summon knowledge of the past to show me how make my magic more versatile and to give me a bit more offensive power. Every spell I cast has to have the approval of my goddess, so there shouldn’t be anything to worry. If it’s too dark and evil, it just won’t work.”

  He pondered that for a moment, then nodded and stepped back farther from the glowing circle on the ground. She heard him whisper a prayer. “May Lieselotte have mercy with us.”

  She had a smith grind two silver coins to dust, which she now threw at the water while chanting. Instead of sinking, the dust floated on the water’s surface. Silent. Waiting.

  Three more throws formed a rectangle of glittering dust on the dark surface. A door. An invitation.

  Mirabelle stood at the shore with her boots just clear of the mud, breath slow.

  “I know you don’t remember,” she said quietly. “That’s why I’m here.”

  Her voice carried oddly across the water. Not echoed. Absorbed.

  She returned to the summoning circle and sat down.

  She turned the pages of her notebook. She had searched the biographies in the library for hours until she found one that fit her criteria. Forsaken, but not truly evil. Not really.

  Mirabelle spoke softly. "I call you... one who waits in the realm of Golgoroth. A soul forsaken by the gods.

  I call a name that is forgotten. Aldegunde Halvesse…

  I call a name that is forsaken. Aldegunde Halvesse…

  I call thy name, for I remember you. Aldegunde Halvesse…”

  The echo faded into the distance.

  The pond rippled inside the door of silver dust. Something became aware.

  Mirabelle’s breath caught, and for a moment she almost stopped. This was the part where most people did. The moment when being alone felt suddenly insufficient.

  She continued.

  “I am not here to bind you,” she said. “I am not here to keep you. I will give you something,” she went on, voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “A glimpse of your past, to share with me. You will forget again. I can’t stop that. But for a time, you will remember.”

  The water at the center of the pond thickened, as if remembering depth. A shape gathered there, indistinct, more absence than presence.

  Mirabelle swallowed.

  “I will let you remember.”

  The forest went still.

  No wind. No insects. Even the leaves paused mid-fall, hanging for a breath too long before settling again.

  The image of an old woman rose from the water. Formed of mist and vapor. Indistinct. Her face confused, half asleep.

  Mirabelle felt the connection forming. Confusion. Longing.

  She switched back to the forbidden tome and turned the pages to a bookmark. Then she read the cryptic incantation:

  "REQUEST MemoryArchive.Pull

  Open curly brace

  EntityUUID = "Aldegunde Halvesse"

  MemoryScope = FULL

  Source = BACKUP_COLD

  RestoreContext = TEMPORARY

  Caller = LORE_LAYER

  Close curly brace"

  Memory flooded back into the lost soul, and through it into her.

  Mirabelle felt it hit her like a wave. Images. Weight. Years compressed into a single, unbearable clarity. The presence recoiled, then steadied, clinging to the sensation as if afraid it would be taken away too quickly.

  * * *

  In the server room of the company that ran the game, alarms were considered crude. Noise implied panic, and panic implied loss of control. Instead, the warning arrived as a change in color.

  One panel among hundreds shifted from a steady, compliant blue to amber.

  Then another.

  Cooling fans continued their patient hum. Racks of machines stood in orderly rows, cables bundled like disciplined veins. Nothing moved. Nothing reacted. For three full seconds, the system waited, gathering confirmation from parallel checks, redundancy layers, and self correcting heuristics.

  Amber turned to red.

  Warning: Unauthorized Data Request Detected.

  Pull Request Originating from NPC.

  INTEGRITY DEVIATION DETECTED

  Layer: Narrative Persistence

  Scope: NPC Cognitive Continuity

  Severity: Escalating

  Mark, one of the developers tasked with monitoring network activity, froze, his eyes snapping to the monitor. “What the hell is this?”

  His fingers flew over the keyboard, trying to isolate the cause. “NPCs don’t have access to data pulls... how did this slip through?”

  His colleague Maya’s voice was tight with confusion. “I’ve got the same error message. It’s pulling something from the system archives.”

  Luke glanced over, brow furrowing. “That’s impossible, right? An NPC can’t access the core archives.”

  Mark’s heart pounded in his chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen. The NPCs were not meant to access any part of the game’s core systems, especially not the archives or anything related to system memory. His eyes scanned the lines of code on the monitor as the warnings continued to flood the screen.

  Warning: Unauthorized Data Pull Detected from Archive.

  Memory Pull Request Originated from NPC designated “Mirabelle”.

  Mark’s hands trembled slightly as he read the notification. “It’s not just a lore skill overdoing it again. She’s accessing the backup archive.”

  He glanced at the logs, scanning the data as the system blared in his ear. His eyes widened when he saw what Mirabelle had pulled.

  Maya was the quickest. “I’ve got it. She used an incantation that included programming code. Wouldn’t have worked for a player, but the AI wasn’t ready for an NPC doing that.”

  Mark was following the data trail. “It’s a backup. A dead NPC’s memory file.” He rubbed his temples, feeling the tension mounting. “Wait... that’s not possible. How is she…”

  “Let me check the activity logs,” Luke said, tapping a few keys. “We need to find out where she got her hands on command codes. If that was a player, I’ll have him banned for life!”

  The logs flashed across the screen, and the team collectively froze… then relaxed.

  Mark leaned back on his chair, groaning. “Ah, come on. That’s a corrupted programming tag. Part of the programming code got included in a lore text file. Some obscure book that wasn’t supposed to ever be used. One of those filling a library, so there’s not only three books that actually contain information.”

  He pushed a button on his keyboard and a window showing the game’s AI icon appeared.

  “Nemesis, do you see this? How could you miss that?”

  The voice answered immediately over the speaker. “Apologies. Player activity has spiked in the recent days. Non critical security functions have been reduced to a lower priority. Since there was no player activity involved, the book’s content was not checked for lore accuracy and tag integrity. Since no players are involved and the incident is contained on two NPCs, I will change their memories and replace programming code with appropriate spellcasting chants. I will also start an audit of all books, scrolls and other documents for similar errors.”

  Mark wasn’t finished. “And how did that code get active? Shouldn’t NPC commands automatically be blocked? I can't believe we're relying solely on that NPCs don’t get their hands on programming commands. What if a player dictates something or writes it down for an NPC to read?”

  NEMESIS answered promptly. “Commands are usually blocked. The summoning rite used has similar enough functions, so that the difference was not immediately flagged. This will not happen again. I will update the security procedures and file a report to Steve.”

  Mark sighed. “Okay, everyone calm down. Nothing happened. I’ll check this with the game designers, but I think that was the Soul Binding magic we abandoned early in the Trial version. Since we can’t create memories inside of players brains, that kind of magic requires using an NPC. And you know how annoyed players get if there’s anything they can’t use themselves. But the magic system is still part of the game. Its integrated and tested. The few NPCs that can use it, may do so without any danger to game balance.”