The twin moons of Aeridor, usually casting a serene silver glow, felt unusually restless tonight. Inside the old stone tower that served as Kaelen Thorne's residence, the atmosphere was even less settled. The air was heavy, thrumming with an alien energy, as if the entire room was holding its breath.
Kaelen himself, with his typical nobleman's messy brown hair—a result of him running his hands through it too often while thinking—was gazing at a workbench cluttered with shimmering potions, peculiar alchemical instruments, and stacks of ancient tomes. In his hand, he clutched a brittle, aged scroll. His eyes, usually holding the sharp intelligence of a past-life scriptwriter, were now narrowed in intense concentration.
"Alright, soul-soothing elixir… this should do the trick," he muttered to himself, then sighed. "At least, according to the ancestral notes. Hopefully, these 'ancestral notes' aren't as ridiculous as some of the fantasy harem plots I drafted in my previous life."
Ah, the previous life. That memory always struck like an unexpected lightning bolt. A writer confined to a screen, conjuring harem worlds. Now, he was trapped in one of his own creations, burdened by a "hereditary curse" that turned out to be far more than a bedtime story.
He poured a violet-hued liquid into a crystal goblet. As he did, the strange energy in the room pulsed stronger, making the alchemical tools chime softly. Suddenly, the old scroll in his hand blazed with a blinding light.
"Hold on a minute," Kaelen panicked slightly. "This wasn't in the notes! 'If energy reaches its apex, activate…' What does 'apex' even mean? I haven't even mixed it yet!"
A vortex of colorful energy began to form in the center of the room, spinning faster and faster. It wasn't just light; it was like a tear in reality itself. A low, rumbling sound emanated, akin to an infinite cosmic sigh. Kaelen was flung backward, crashing into a bookshelf. Books rained down like paper confetti.
"Bloody hell! This is worse than the climax of my failed novel!" he yelled, trying to scramble up while shielding his head from the falling objects.
From the now significantly sized vortex, a woman emerged. She was ejected with a rather loud thud, landing in a combat-ready stance, though she winced in pain. Her hair was a fiery red, her eyes like threatening emeralds, and her attire seemed to be a mix of leather armor and slightly torn fabric. An aroma of smoke and something… hot, enveloped her.
"You! What is this place?!" she roared, pointing a trembling fist at Kaelen, who was still trying to get on his feet. "Who are you, you pathetic mage?! You summoned me here, didn't you?!"
Before Kaelen could answer—or even find the right words—the portal pulsed again. This time, with a soft but chilling silver-blue light. Another woman emerged, this one not ejected but seemingly floating out with extraordinary grace, as if carried by the wind. Her hair was snow-white, her dark violet eyes captivating, and she wore a gown made of what looked like shimmering spider silk, revealing her slender form.
She landed with incredible lightness on the floor, completely ignoring Lyra's ongoing tirade at Kaelen. Her gaze fixed on him, filled with curiosity and a hint of amusement.
"Ah, the noisy fire starter has arrived," she said softly, her voice like soothing music yet holding an unfathomable depth. "And the Weaver… how interesting." She gave Kaelen a small nod, as if he were a fascinating subject of study.
Kaelen could only gape. Before him stood Lyra, ready to pounce, and Elysia, regarding him with an enigmatic gaze. He felt Lyra's burning energy on one side and Elysia's chilling yet enchanting aura on the other. Suddenly, fragments of memories from his past life flashed through his mind: he'd once written about a fierce, angry warrior and a cold, mysterious mage… But this was no mere writing.
"Wait, hold on," Kaelen tried to control his panic, touching his forehead as he felt a strange throbbing. He saw thin, luminous threads of light flitting between himself, Lyra, and Elysia. The threads pulsed, like veins of energy.
What is this? 'Weaver's Insight'? And 'Resonance'? Those hazy memories surfaced, like whispers from an unexpected past.
As Lyra stepped forward, ready to attack, Kaelen somehow reacted faster than usual. He dodved to the side, but the floor, slick with spilled potions and scattered book fragments, sent him sliding. He tumbled directly into Elysia's calm embrace.
Kaelen found himself enveloped by Elysia's cool yet calming hold, while still feeling the burning heat from the furious Lyra nearby. He gasped, experiencing a strange and confusing sensation. Lyra's heat, Elysia's coolness, and an unexpected pulse from the "threads" connecting him to them both.
"Wh-what in the world..." Kaelen muttered, feeling that his world, and certainly his tower, had just been turned completely upside down.
This was just the beginning. And for some reason, Kaelen had a terrible feeling that this kind of chaos was about to become his new normal.