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  Quirl carefully poured the steaming soup into three bowls, setting them down on the table before placing additional dishes and a plate of well-cooked meat in the center. He gave a satisfied nod before speaking.

  "Eat while it's still hot," he instructed, his voice warm but firm.

  Kael and Quin obeyed, picking up their spoons and beginning their meal. While eating, the two brothers naturally fell into a conversation, chatting about minor details of the day, teasing each other in an easygoing manner. Kael remained silent, letting their voices wash over him as he calmly ate. His stormy gray eyes flickered with distant thoughts as he listened to them.

  His mind wandered to the past—to another dining table, another pair of siblings. Elaria Merinda Ravenwood. Asael. His younger siblings, the ones he had lost. A faint, almost imperceptible smile ghosted across his lips as he watched Quirl and Quin interact, the way they bickered yet looked after each other. It was a warm, familiar feeling.

  Quin, in mid-sentence, caught the subtle smile and paused for a moment. He glanced at Quirl, who had also noticed, and the two exchanged a quick look. Neither spoke about it, but a silent understanding passed between them.

  By the time dinner was finished, it was a little past ten at night. Quirl gathered the bowls and dishes to wash them, while Quin excused himself to the backyard. Kael remained seated for a moment before standing and quietly walking over to Quirl at the washbasin.

  "Let me try washing the dishes," Kael said calmly.

  Quirl arched an eyebrow in surprise, glancing down at the shorter man who was watching the process intently. "Are you sure?"

  Kael nodded once, his expression unreadable.

  With a shrug, Quirl handed him the rubber gloves. Kael put them on without hesitation and began washing the dishes, his movements precise and steady. Quirl leaned against the counter, observing him with mild curiosity. There was something oddly calming about the way Kael worked, as if he found solace in the simple act of cleaning. When he finished, he removed the gloves and set them aside neatly. Somehow doing housework like this he was calm without thinking any sort of problem.

  "Not bad," Quirl commented. "Go take some fresh air before heading to bed."

  Kael inclined his head slightly before heading towards the backdoor. The moment he stepped outside, a gentle breeze greeted him, carrying the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves. The night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of foliage. Kael walked towards a large tree standing in the backyard, where a wooden bench rested beneath its sturdy branches.

  In the open space, Quin was warming up, preparing for sword training. His stance was solid, his movements practiced as he shifted through forms, his focus entirely on his footwork and swings. Kael stood silently, observing him. His sharp eyes immediately caught the flaws in Quin’s technique—the unnecessary movements, the openings left unguarded, the wasted energy. He frowned slightly, deep in thought.

  Footsteps approached behind him, and Kael turned slightly to see Quirl coming his way, holding a short cloak. Without a word, Quirl draped it over Kael’s shoulders.

  "It gets cold here at night," Quirl remarked, adjusting the cloak so it sat properly.

  Kael nodded in thanks, fastening the clasp neatly as his gaze returned to Quin’s training. The younger brother had finally unsheathed his sword, moving into more advanced techniques. But again, Kael saw the flaws—too many weak spots left exposed.

  "How long has Quin been training with the sword?" Kael asked without looking away.

  Quirl followed his gaze. "Since he was five," he answered, crossing his arms. "But… he struggles to improve his technique. He’s strong, but his form lacks refinement."

  Kael nodded slowly, contemplating.

  A gentle wind blew past, rustling the leaves above. Kael tilted his head up, watching the branches sway before his gaze settled on a particularly thin branch. His mind clicked with an idea.

  "Can you snap that thin branch for me?" he asked, pointing toward it.

  Quirl blinked before stepping closer, reaching up effortlessly. A sharp crack echoed through the air as he snapped the branch clean off.

  The sound caught Quin’s attention, and he halted his practice, turning toward them. His sword lowered slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes as he observed his older brother and Kael.

  Kael, still holding the short cloak around his shoulders, turned his gaze to the branch in Quirl’s hand. He reached for it, running his fingers over its smooth surface before gripping it lightly.

  "This will do," he murmured, his expression unreadable.Quirl and Quin exchanged a look.

  They knew that whatever Kael had planned, it was bound to be interesting Kael turned his head to Quin, the thin branch resting lightly in his grasp..

  A small smile formed on his lips, but it was the kind of smile that sent an involuntary shiver down Quin’s spine. There was something eerie in the way Kael carried himself, something that made Quin instinctively straighten his posture as Kael took slow, deliberate steps toward him.

  "Continue your training," Kael instructed, his voice calm but carrying an underlying authority. "Your stance has too many openings. If you were facing an enemy, you would have already lost."

  Quin’s eyes widened slightly, but instead of disappointment, excitement sparked in them. "You can see my weaknesses?" he asked, gripping his sword tighter.

  Kael merely nodded, stepping back to observe. Quin, now eager to prove himself, resumed his training, this time with a newfound focus. Kael watched him closely, the thin branch in his hand tapping lightly against his palm.

  "Too stiff on your footing," Kael pointed out. "You're leaving yourself vulnerable to attacks from the side."

  Quin adjusted immediately, shifting his weight to correct his stance.

  "Good. But you're too slow in your transition. Speed it up." Kael’s voice was devoid of praise or criticism, merely stating facts, yet Quin found himself motivated to improve under his watchful eye.

  Quirl, standing nearby with his arms crossed, watched the interaction with interest. He had never seen his younger brother this engaged in refining his technique before. He also noticed how precise Kael’s observations were—like someone who had spent years studying the way of the sword.

  "Your grip is too tight on the hilt," Kael continued, his tone steady. "Loosen it slightly. It’ll allow for smoother movement."

  Quin immediately loosened his grip, testing the flow of his swings.

  "Better," Kael acknowledged, though his expression remained neutral.

  As Quin practiced, Kael stepped forward, lifting the thin branch. "Hold that stance," he instructed, waiting until Quin froze in position. Then, Kael lightly tapped Quin’s arm, then his side, and finally his foot. "These are the weak points in this form. An opponent can easily exploit them."

  Quin nodded in understanding, adjusting accordingly.

  "Find your own style," Kael said, his voice softer now. "You won’t grow stronger by mimicking others. Your body moves differently than mine or Quirl’s. Adapt to your own strengths and weaknesses."

  Quin’s eyes flickered with determination. "Understood, Master Kael."

  Kael observed for a moment longer before crossing his arms. "Now show me your special move."

  Quin’s expression brightened as he took a deep breath and shifted into a stance he had clearly practiced many times before. He moved quickly, his sword slicing through the air in a series of sharp, decisive strikes. Kael watched intently, his sharp gaze analyzing every movement.

  Once Quin finished, Kael nodded slightly. "You have potential. Your attacks are strong, but there are gaps. It’s easy to predict where your next strike will land. Try feinting before committing to an attack."

  Quirl, who had been silently observing, let out a low whistle. "I never knew you were this knowledgeable about swordplay, Kael."

  Kael simply shrugged. "I read too many books when I was trapped in the Vladimir Manor."

  Quirl chuckled before Kael suddenly turned to him. "What about you? How skilled are you with a sword?"

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Quirl flinched slightly, caught off guard, before giving a sheepish smile. "Ah… well, my skills are so-so. I know enough to defend myself, but nothing compared to a knight."

  Kael nodded, his gaze thoughtful. "Then you should learn as well."

  Quirl blinked. "Me?"

  "Yes," Kael confirmed simply before turning back to Quin, who was already adjusting his technique, eager to improve. The night air was cool, the scent of earth and leaves surrounding them, as Kael continued his silent assessment, feeling, for the first time in a long while, a sense of purpose.

  The night air carried a crisp coolness, rustling the leaves in the trees as Kael calmly turned his attention back to Quin. His long black hair, tied loosely into a ponytail, swayed slightly from the late-night breeze. "Let me test your improvement," Kael stated, his voice even and composed.

  Quin and Quirl snapped their heads toward him, both taken aback. Quin hesitated before asking, "Can your body handle it?" His brows furrowed in concern. Quirl, sharing his brother’s worry, nodded in agreement.

  Kael merely inclined his head. "If it's a light fight, there should be no problem... perhaps."

  With that, he turned to face Quin, taking his position on the opposite side. "Quirl, get my pole from inside," he instructed calmly.

  Quirl quickly disappeared into the house, returning mere moments later with Kael’s wooden pole. As soon as Kael took it, he twisted the hilt with practiced ease. The soft chime of the small bell attached to the pole’s hilt rang gently in the night air. With a fluid motion, Kael pulled the blade free, and Quirl instinctively stepped back, not wanting to interfere. Quin’s eyes, now ablaze with excitement, fixed on Kael. It had been a long time since he’d felt this eager for a fight.

  Kael swished his blade to the side, the force creating a sharp gust of wind that briefly tousled Quirl’s hair. "Shall we?" he asked, his tone calm and unreadable.

  Quin exhaled and steadied his stance, gripping his sword firmly before lunging at Kael, controlling his strength and spiritual mana. The clang of steel against steel echoed through the backyard as their blades met. Kael swiftly sidestepped, letting Quin’s strike sink into the grass where he had just stood.

  "First mistake," Kael remarked, his voice composed despite the quick movement. "Never meet an opponent’s blade head-on if you lack the strength to overpower them. Redirect, evade, or break their stance instead."

  Quin gritted his teeth and nodded, adjusting his approach. He pivoted and swung again, but Kael ducked effortlessly, tapping the flat of his blade against Quin’s exposed ribs. "Second mistake," Kael continued. "Your follow-through is too wide. Keep your movements sharp and controlled, or you’ll leave yourself open."

  Quin exhaled sharply, absorbing the lesson before regaining his stance. He steadied his breathing, analyzing his own movements. Kael nodded slightly, acknowledging the subtle improvement. "Again," he said.

  The sparring continued, with Kael pointing out each mistake—his stance was too rigid, his wrist too stiff, his weight unbalanced after certain swings. "You rely too much on your upper body," Kael observed, sidestepping another strike and tapping Quin’s shoulder with the tip of his blade. "Use your whole body. Shift your weight, let the force travel through your legs, not just your arms."

  Quin’s frustration melted into determination as he adjusted accordingly. Quirl, standing at the side, was captivated by the exchange. He found himself unconsciously taking mental notes of everything Kael pointed out.

  Eventually, Quin executed a smooth, fluid strike, transitioning into a defensive stance without leaving an opening. Kael paused, observing him for a moment before lowering his blade. "Good job," he finally said, his calm tone carrying a hint of approval.

  Quin wiped the sweat from his forehead, his breath heavy but exhilarated. "I improved a lot thanks to you, Master Kael."

  Kael merely nodded before turning to Quirl. "Your swordsmanship?" he asked.

  Quirl flinched slightly before giving a small smile. "It’s... so-so."

  Kael only hummed in response, as if filing the information away for later. Quirl then stepped forward, returning the wooden pole’s sheath to Kael, who smoothly slid the blade back inside with a satisfying click.

  The soft chime of the small bell on the hilt rang once more as the night settled around them. The late breeze carried a quiet sense of satisfaction as the spar came to an end.

  The morning sun streamed through the window, casting a golden glow over Kael’s face. He stood by the open window, his stormy gray eyes reflecting the sunlight as he let the warmth bathe his skin. His long black hair, still loosely tied in the ponytail Quin had done the night before, swayed slightly with the gentle breeze that entered the room. With a quiet sigh, Kael leaned his head against the wooden window frame, his gaze lost in the horizon, deep in thought.

  A knock at the door interrupted his silence.

  "Good morning," came Quin’s familiar voice from the other side.

  Kael turned his head slightly, the sunlight catching his eyes in just the right way. Quin, upon entering, froze for a moment before blurting out, "Your eyes… they have the same color as Asael Kian Ravenwood."

  Kael flinched slightly, though he masked it quickly. Keeping his expression calm, he replied, "It’s just a coincidence. Asael’s stormy gray eyes and mine only seem alike when caught by the sunlight."

  Quin tilted his head slightly, not entirely convinced, but he didn’t press the issue further. Instead, he gestured toward the door. "Come on, breakfast is ready. You can shower after we eat."

  Kael nodded and followed Quin to the dining area, his steps as quiet and measured as always. As he took a seat at the table, he rested his chin on his arm, his gaze drifting toward Quirl, who was busy preparing breakfast.

  "Is there a place in town where we can remember the dead?" Kael asked suddenly, his voice calm but carrying a deeper weight.

  Quirl’s hands paused mid-motion, and he turned to look at Kael with a subtle, thoughtful expression. "There is. Why do you ask?"

  Quin, who had been listening while serving himself some tea, also turned his attention toward Kael.

  Kael remained silent for a moment before responding, "I want to visit."

  Understanding dawned in Quirl’s and Quin’s eyes. They assumed Kael wanted to pay respects to his late mother, and without question, they both nodded in agreement.

  "Alright, we can go after breakfast," Quirl said as he set a basket of freshly baked bread on the table, followed by warm tea.

  The three of them ate mostly in silence, as was typical whenever Kael was lost in his own world. But in his mind, Kael wasn’t only thinking about his late mother. He was thinking of offering a prayer for the original Kael’s soul... and for his past self as Asael.

  Once breakfast was finished, Kael helped clear the table, but Quirl quickly shooed him away. "Go shower first," he ordered with a wave of his hand. "We’ll finish up here."

  Kael didn’t argue and simply nodded, heading toward the washroom.

  A few minutes later, he emerged, dressed in a loose long-sleeve white shirt that belonged to Quirl, tucked neatly into a pair of fitted pants that Quin had worn as a teenager. The fabric was slightly too big on him, making the sleeves drape past his wrists. The sight made both Quirl and Quin chuckle.

  "You look like a child wearing his older brother’s clothes," Quin teased, grinning as he grabbed a towel and moved behind Kael to dry his damp, thigh-length black hair.

  Kael merely sighed and let Quin do as he pleased, watching Quirl tidy up the kitchen. As Quin carefully worked, Quirl went to a cabinet, rummaged through it briefly, and pulled out a hair tie adorned with delicate dangling accessories. He placed it on the table in front of Kael.

  Kael blinked and reached out, lightly touching the intricate ornament. Before he could say anything, Quin, having finished drying Kael’s hair, deftly braided it, leaving a few strands loose to frame his face. Without hesitation, he took the decorative hair tie from Kael’s hand and secured the braid with it.

  Once finished, Quin nodded in satisfaction. "That suits you," he murmured, admiring his handiwork.

  Kael lifted his hand, feeling the braid and the way the dangling accessories softly jingled with his movements. It was... delicate. Yet, he didn’t mind it.

  Quirl, observing the scene, smirked before chuckling. "Our Kael looks like a young lady now."

  Kael, unfazed, merely gave a small hum of acknowledgment. "The braiding is well done."

  Quin grinned. "Of course, it is. Now, get used to it because I’m going to keep doing your hair."

  Quirl laughed as he clapped Quin on the back. "Alright, enough admiring your work. Go get yourself ready; we need to leave soon."

  Quin rolled his eyes but obeyed, disappearing into the other room. Kael remained where he was, lightly running his fingers over his braided hair. He didn’t say it aloud, but deep down, a small part of him felt... warm. Accepted. Like the ghost of Asael was slowly settling into this new life.

  With that thought, he stood and prepared himself for the day ahead.

  The morning sun bathed the town in a golden hue as Quin and Quirl finished preparing for their departure. Quirl dressed handsomely in simple yet well-fitted clothes that, despite their plainness, could easily catch the eyes of ladies passing by. Quin, on the other hand, adjusted his attire before turning his gaze toward Kael, who was patiently waiting.

  Noticing Kael’s worn cloak, Quirl stepped forward, lifting it gently. The fabric had been torn from yesterday’s attack, but Quirl had carefully sewn delicate white petal patterns over the cuts, mending it with skilled hands. With a quiet motion, he draped the hooded cloak over Kael’s frame, ensuring it concealed his body.

  Quin then approached, handing Kael a wooden pole that had a hidden blade within. As Kael took it, the soft chime of the dangling accessories echoed faintly, blending with the quiet hum of the morning. Quin also presented him with a finely crafted dagger, which Kael accepted with calm hands, fastening it securely at his side beneath the cloak.

  "Do you want a cloth to cover your eyes?" Quin asked, his voice laced with concern. Kael nodded wordlessly, accepting the fabric and tying it neatly around his eyes. He then pulled his hood over his head, his long, dark braid slipping over his shoulder, the silver ornaments at the end swaying gently.

  Both Quirl and Quin stood silent for a moment, watching Kael’s appearance transform before their eyes. The way his delicate features, veiled by the blindfold, combined with his elegantly braided hair made him appear strikingly similar to a noblewoman rather than a young man. A deep instinct stirred within them—an unspoken protectiveness rising in their chests.

  Kael, sensing their lingering stares, tilted his head slightly. "What?"

  Quin clenched his fist, his expression troubled. "We’re going out with our little brother, but he looks like a refined lady instead," he muttered.

  Quirl sighed, nodding in agreement. "It’s better to keep your appearance hidden. You’ll attract too much attention otherwise."

  Kael merely hummed in response, indifferent. The chime from his hair accessory was a soft melody as he shifted.

  After ensuring Kael’s belongings were secured, Quin handed him back his money pouch, which he had been safeguarding. Once everything was settled, Quirl pushed the door open with a soft creak, stepping outside first, greeted by the warm morning sun. Quin followed closely behind, shutting and locking the door. Kael walked between them, his steps light, his senses adjusting to the sounds around him. Each step he took caused the hidden blade in his wooden pole to emit a soft chime, blending with the earthy scent of the damp ground.

  The town was slowly coming alive, with merchants setting up their stalls and citizens beginning their daily routines. As they walked along the bustling road, familiar voices greeted the Vayren siblings. Quin and Quirl responded politely, exchanging brief words about their plans for the day. However, as people’s gazes landed on Kael, a sense of quiet curiosity rippled through the crowd.

  The blindfold, the delicate braid, the way he carried himself—it all led to one common misunderstanding.

  "Poor girl," a merchant woman whispered, her tone laced with pity. "She’s blind at such a young age."

  Another passerby murmured, "What a delicate-looking lady… Is she with the Vayren brothers?"

  Kael, ever unbothered, merely smiled faintly beneath his hood, allowing the comments to pass without reaction. The slight upturn of his lips was hidden within the fabric’s shadow, shielding his pale face from full view.

  Their journey continued until they reached a signpost that read ‘Silverstone.’ Quirl, noticing Kael slowing his pace, glanced at him before following his gaze. Nearby, an elderly man stood behind a simple wooden stall, arranging small bouquets of flowers, their fragrances mingling with the crisp morning air.

  Kael felt an unfamiliar pull—an instinctual need drawing him toward the delicate petals. Using his wooden pole as a guide, he stepped forward, approaching the stall.

  "Play along," Quirl murmured in a low voice, then turned to the flower vendor. "What flowers do you have today?"

  The elderly vendor brightened at the inquiry. "Ah, fine morning to you! I have lilies, white hyacinths, and blue forget-me-nots. There are also lavender sprigs and moonflowers, freshly picked."

  Kael’s fingers brushed over the flowers carefully as though feeling their shapes. As his hood shifted slightly, a glimpse of his pale face was revealed. The vendor paused, his gaze softening at the sight of the ‘blind’ young man’s delicate features and the gentle ornaments in his braid swaying with each motion.

  "I’ll take these," Kael finally said, his voice soft but firm as his fingertips rested on a bundle of white hyacinths.

  The vendor smiled warmly. "A fine choice, young miss—oh, forgive me—young master," he quickly corrected, sensing his mistake. He wrapped the flowers with careful hands before handing them to Kael, who nodded in gratitude.

  Quin, understanding Kael’s silent gesture, took his money pouch and pulled out two silver coins, placing them in the vendor’s hand. "Thank you."

  With his flowers secured, Kael turned back, gripping his wooden pole lightly as he made his way toward Quirl and Quin. They resumed their journey, stepping past the threshold of Silverstone.

  The sacred grounds were quiet yet filled with an air of reverence. Gentle murmurs of prayers drifted from different corners, and a few visitors glanced their way as they entered. The breeze carried the scent of fresh earth and aged stone, mingling with the faint aroma of incense burning nearby.

  Quin let out a quiet sigh, his voice barely above a whisper. "Now I know how it feels to be stared at." He adjusted his hood slightly, his tousled hair around his nape catching the light.

  Quirl led them to a more secluded spot where fewer people gathered. Kael approached a small stone marker, where remnants of past offerings—wilted flowers and a few tokens—rested.

  Without hesitation, he handed his wooden pole to Quin and knelt, gently placing the fresh hyacinths before him. The soft crunch of grass beneath his weight was the only sound accompanying his movements.

  Kael hesitated before slowly pulling back his hood, allowing the sun to touch his pale features. His expression remained calm, but a quiet storm brewed within him.

  Closing his eyes beneath the blindfold, he pressed his hands together, the cool air brushing against his face.

  'Original Kael… thank you for this life. I will live it to the fullest, for the both of us.'

  A pause. Then, his heart tightened.

  'Kael’s mother… I’m sorry. I took over your son’s body. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him from leaving…'

  The wind stirred, a gentle caress against his skin, as if offering silent comfort. The distant rustle of leaves, the whisper of prayers in the air—it all felt strangely soothing.

  A sense of peace settled over him, the weight in his heart easing ever so slightly. He remained still for a moment longer, absorbing the tranquility before finally exhaling, as if releasing a breath he had unknowingly been holding.

  From a distance, a few visitors had taken notice of his quiet figure, the way the sunlight framed his delicate features, the soft breeze toying with the loose strands of his long braid.

  But Kael remained unaware—his heart was elsewhere, lingering between the past and the present, finding solace in the quiet embrace of Silverstone.

  To be continued. (This is the last chapter updated for this week)