Chapter 9 – The World Begins to Unveil
A hoarse groan escaped Adrian's lips as he brought a trembling hand to his forehead. A dull ache hammered inside his skull, and his blurred vision took a few seconds to adjust to the dimness of the room. A wave of dizziness forced him to lie still longer than he wanted. Above him, the aged and cracked ceiling — still standing despite time — seemed to watch his slow recovery, like a silent guardian of forgotten times. Someone had taken the trouble to fix it. It wasn't pretty, but it was enough to keep out the wind and sand from outside.
— Where… am I? — he murmured, his voice dry, more a whisper than a question.
With effort, he sat up, feeling stiff, aching muscles protest. His fingers brushed worn cushions and rough fabrics, and he realized he was on an old sofa. Sunlight filtered through broken planks, casting golden lines in the dusty air. Particles danced in the beams like tiny ghosts, floating lazily in the silence. The smell of old wood and sand filled his nostrils — a mix of abandonment and survival.
His eyes scanned the room. Cracked stone walls supported patched wooden beams, each seeming to come from a different place. Nothing matched, but everything was carefully assembled. This place was not just a ruin — someone lived here.
Then he saw her.
A girl, no older than twelve, sitting against the wall with surprising calm. One knee raised, arms resting on it, and intense green eyes watching him attentively. Her short brown hair framed a young but hardened face — the kind of expression born in those who have seen too much, too soon.
— Cordelia...? — Adrian blinked, confused. — Are you in my house?
She raised an eyebrow, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
— Actually — she replied dryly — you're the one in mine. I dragged your unconscious body here. You were lucky I found you before anything else did.
Adrian's mind raced to understand. He remembered the attack. The skeleton knights. The overwhelming power that swept them away like a divine storm. The light — so intense it swallowed all darkness. After that… nothing.
— You… saved me? — he asked, his voice thick with surprise.
Cordelia stood and walked toward him. Her bare feet made no sound, but there was firmness in every step — not arrogance, but confidence.
— I did. You're welcome, by the way — she said, stopping a few feet away. — I'm Cordelia. I used Divine Possession.
Adrian's heart nearly stopped.
— So… you're a Heir?
She nodded simply. No pride, no ceremony — just the truth.
— I am.
Adrian let his shoulders fall, looking down.
— So… the inheritance hidden here… has already awakened? — The disappointment in his voice filled the air around them.
Cordelia frowned, tilting her head.
— Inheritance? That's why you came here? Looking for an inheritance?
He hesitated. His fingers clenched the sofa fabric. He could lie. Avoid the subject. But there was something in her gaze — maybe the fact she saved him with no strings attached — that made him honest.
— Yes — he confessed after a few seconds. — My parents left a diary. Before they died, they wrote about an inheritance hidden in the ruins around here. I found the diary… and came the next day.
Cordelia's eyes widened. She took a step back, surprised.
— You read a diary and went alone the next day? Are you crazy?! Are you stupid or just suicidal?!
Her voice cut the air like a slap.
Adrian lowered his head, but there was no regret in his eyes.
— I'm just an orphan — he said with restrained firmness. — Who else was I supposed to tell? The orphanage caretakers? They wouldn't understand. And if they knew… they'd become targets. This kind of power doesn't protect. It marks. I'd rather die trying alone than put the only place I can call home in danger.
Cordelia stared at him silently, lips parted. She wanted to say something but couldn't. There was a sincere hardness in that voice — something forged by pain and loneliness. Something she knew all too well.
— …Idiot — she muttered, almost inaudible.
— What? — Adrian looked at her, confused.
— I said nothing! — she snapped, turning her face quickly to hide a slight blush.
The silence that followed was brief, broken when Cordelia took another step forward, now resolute. She extended her hand toward him.
— Let's make a deal.
Adrian blinked. — A deal?
— Yes. I don't think the inheritance I awakened is the same as your parents' diary. There are many ruins out there — some abandoned, others sealed. If yours is linked to something specific, it might still be around. I'll help you find it… if you help me find my parents.
Her hand hovered between them, open, steady. Her eyes serious.
Adrian watched her for a moment. His heart beat fast — not from fear, but from something new. Hope. Recognition.
He smiled faintly and squeezed her hand.
— Deal.
The grip was firm. A pact sealed between two young people broken by the world, yet still standing.
Cordelia nodded once and turned to the corner where she slept — a pile of blankets beside an old, torn backpack.
— Get some rest — she said without looking at him. — We leave at dawn. I know other ruins. The ones no one dares approach. We'll start there.
Adrian leaned back on the sofa. It creaked under his weight, but it was warm. And, more importantly, it was safe. His body still ached, but the pain was proof he had survived.
He cast one last look at Cordelia. She sat cross-legged, examining a worn compass in her hands.
— Hey — he called softly.
She looked up.
— Thanks.
Her lips curled in a half-smile before she quickly turned her face away.
— Tch. Just don't die again. You're heavy.
Adrian let out a quiet laugh and closed his eyes.
Mom… Dad… I'm getting closer. To the truth. To you. And maybe… I'm not alone anymore.
The wind whispered through the cracks of the shelter, but inside, everything was peaceful. And as sleep wrapped him like a blanket, the world outside slowly began to reveal the secrets it hid.
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