I fell in love with you in my new life

POV – Luahn

Al principio, eran solo destellos.

Risas que no venían de nadie conocido, sabores en mi boca que no pertenecían a este mundo.

Fragmentos.

Pero ahora... ya no eran solo fragmentos.

Estaban regresando.

Recuerdos de otra vida.

De otro mundo.

Y con cada día que pasaba, se volvían más claros.

Desperté sabiendo que algo había cambiado, a veces una canción, o la cara de alguien.

Un olor, una escena, un pensamiento.

Yo era Luahn.

Pero también era William.

Y vivir como ambos al mismo tiempo... era como caminar con un pie en la tierra y el otro en el aire.

La primera gran diferencia que recordé claramente fue el cielo.

En la Tierra, había una luna.

Una luna única, blanca y solitaria.

A veces llena, a veces dividida en fases y ocasionalmente oculta por nubes.

Aquí... hay tres.

Velmira, la más grande, con un brillo lechoso que casi parece una lámpara de cristal.

Chirel, pequeña, azul, moviéndose más rápido que las demás.

Y Torath... rojizo, misterioso, apareciendo solo en ciertos ciclos, como si durmiera más de lo que existe.

Cuando los tres se alinean en lo alto del cielo, los sacerdotes dicen que la diosa Dievas observa con especial atención.

Algunos incluso le rezan solo esas noches.

Simplemente... me siento abrumado.

"¿Siempre ha habido tres lunas?", le pregunté a Grisel una vez.

Me miró de forma extraña.

"¿Desde cuándo no las ha habido?"

Tuve que fingir una sonrisa.

"Desde siempre, por supuesto... Era solo una pregunta tonta".

Pero no era tonta.

Era la prueba de que estaba empezando a recordar más de lo que este mundo podía explicar.

También noté la diferencia temporal.

Aquí, un año no tiene doce meses, sino catorce.

Y no se llaman igual. Los memoricé a la fuerza en clase, pero ahora los siento como parte de mi vida diaria:

Primura: el despertar del mundo después del invierno.

Florent: cuando los árboles florecen y los ríos renacen.

Sermel: la estación de las lluvias suaves, rica en frutos rojos.

Vandros: vientos cálidos, el comienzo del calor.

Alther: mes del fuego, cuando el sol parece estar más cerca.

Feyra: cuando se cosechan las primeras cosechas.

Veltria: pleno verano.

Dramir: mes de transición, días con luz y sombra iguales.

Ovelan: lluvias torrenciales, preparación para el frío.

Ysen: primeros copos de nieve, hierbas medicinales.

Noctan: noches largas, descanso profundo.

Zephen: la nieve y el hielo dominan el paisaje.

Kalvyr: celebraciones espirituales, mes de retiro.

Myara, cuando el invierno empieza a ceder su dominio.

Las estaciones no duran tres meses como en mi vida anterior. Aquí, la primavera y el invierno duran más.

El otoño es corto pero hermoso.

Y el verano va y viene con prisa.

Los cambios no se limitan al clima.

Afectan al estado de ánimo de la gente.

Las flores que florecen, las frutas que se ofrecen, los colores de la ropa, incluso las canciones.

Y luego están los cumpleaños, que aquí se celebran cada cinco años.

No hay pasteles. Ni velas. Ni cajas con cintas.

En cambio, hay ceremonias.

A los cinco, te reconocen como niño.

A los diez, como un joven miembro del clan.

A los quince, como un joven adulto.

A los veinte... como un adulto completo.

Tengo seis.

Mi próxima ceremonia será dentro de cuatro años.

Y a veces me pregunto si llegaré con las mismas personas a mi lado.

También comparé la comida.

En la Tierra, mi madre cocinaba platos japoneses.

Sopas de miso, arroz caliente, pescado al vapor, okonomiyaki en ocasiones especiales.

El sabor del arroz bien cocido era algo que nunca olvidé.

Aquí, lo más parecido al arroz es el rauzal, un grano oscuro que brilla en la oscuridad, similar al ébano húmedo.

Sabe a nueces saladas. No es lo mismo... pero no está mal.

Los lobos comen muchas raíces tostadas, carnes ahumadas y frutos silvestres.

Hay un pan llamado trigresal, pesado, fermentado, con un toque ácido.

Al principio lo odié. Ahora... me gusta.

También descubrí el Kavenor, una infusión amarga que se bebe después del mediodía.

Según mamá, ayuda a mantener "la mente despierta y el corazón frío".

Lo odio.

Pero lo bebo de todos modos.

Incluso los juegos de niños son diferentes.

En la Tierra, corríamos tras pelotas, jugábamos a las cartas o a las consolas; aquí, los niños luchan con espadas de madera desde los cinco años.

Juegan a las "tribus antiguas", donde uno hace de diablo y los demás lo cazan.

"¿Por qué nadie juega al escondite?", le pregunté una vez a Emilia.

"¿Quién se esconde de los demonios?", respondió, como si fuera obvio.

Comparar los dos mundos no me hace rechazar este.

Ni tampoco extrañar el anterior.

Simplemente... me recuerda quién soy.

William.

Luahn.

Ambos.

Pero había algo que no había tenido en cuenta desde que recuperé mis primeros recuerdos, y era sobre mi padre cuando era William. 

No podía recordar nada de él, su rostro, su voz, los momentos que viví con él; estaba en blanco, y no sabía por qué.

Even in this life as Luahn, I don't know who my father is. The only thing I knew was that he was human.

Something else I found out later was that relationships between the Wolf Clan and humans had already occurred in the past.

But these took place outside the city, as some wolves had left the city over the years for various reasons, so there were only brief records of these relationships.

And that's where I come in, a union between the races, so to speak, something that had never happened before, or at least never been recorded in their books.

I could only sigh inwardly. All I can do is keep moving forward.

*

Since the failed ritual that almost consumed me from within, I had learned to fear silence.

But also... to value it.

My body hurt less, but I wasn't ready to train like before.

And the energy that had awakened in me... wasn't something I could turn on and off at will.

So I sought refuge where I always felt safe.

Among books.

The sanctuary's library was not huge, but it was deep.

Full of ancient manuscripts, stone tablets, scrolls rolled up with dried leather straps.

Each one smelled of time.

The first time I entered, a priestess stopped me.

"Can you read well?"

"Yes."

"And write?"

"Yes. My mother taught me."

She let me pass. She didn't say anything else to me.

I chose a corner with a small oil lamp and a black wooden table.

And there, day after day, I read.

First, I wanted to understand more about Yin energy.

I knew that humans used it to awaken elemental affinities.

But I didn't know how many elements there were. Or how they manifested themselves.

A book called "The Eight Primary Flows of the Human World" clarified many things for me.

Humans can control:

Fire—impulsive, destructive, but a symbol of will.

Water—flexible, healing, wise.

Earth—firm, protective, patient.

Air—fast, changeable, difficult to catch.

Lightning—indomitable, fast, pure impulse.

Ice – control, balance, lethal beauty.

Light – healing, guidance, spiritual power.

Shadow – hidden, subtle, introspective.

In addition, some rare humans developed minor affinities: sound, crystal, poison, flora...

But the most interesting thing was what the text said next:

"Yin energy responds to the heart.

Its strength lies in harmony, not brute force.

And although many fear it because of its subtlety, in wise hands it can change the course of a war."

I thought of Emilia.

She mastered water and lightning.

Two opposing elements: one calm, the other explosive.

And yet they coexisted in her.

Then I moved on to read about Yang energy.

Much less was written about it.

It was more primitive, more instinctive.

Directly linked to the body.

In "The Warrior's Pulse," an ancient text written by a blind wolf from the north, I found this:

"Yang energy is not taught.

It is remembered.

It is in the muscles, in the bones, in the reflexes.

It is not a tool. It is a voice that cries out within the body:

'Fight. Protect. Live.'"

I read and reread that sentence.

I understood it.

Because when Yang activated within me that night... I didn't think about winning.

Or proving anything.

I thought about Emilia and Grisel being safe.

And although I couldn't control it completely, I knew it was no longer foreign to me.

I felt it under my skin, like a spark that was still burning.

But then... a question arose that I couldn't ignore:

Can I learn both?

Can I use the balance of Yin energy and the brute force of Yang?

The texts did not give a clear answer.

On the contrary, many said it was impossible.

"Yin and Yang exist to maintain the balance of the world.

Only humans handle Yin.

Only wolves handle Yang."

And yet... here I was.

An anomaly.

Not completely human and not completely wolf.

I had both.

And although they fought within me, they had not destroyed me.

I leaned back on the reading bench.

I closed my eyes.

And I saw myself, in my mind, standing in front of a field on fire.

With ice around snowflakes sprouting from my sword.

And a white flame of Yang energy vibrating in my chest.

Was it possible?

I didn't know.

But if it was...

I wanted to be the first.

Not to be strong.

Not to get revenge.

Not even to prove that I'm not a mistake.

But to protect the people who are important to me.

Mom.

Grisel.

Emilia.

Everyone who doesn't yet know that the worst... is yet to come, because ever since I remembered who I was, I knew that the next encounter with the demons...

Will be even more brutal than we think.

*

POV – Emilia

The sword had become part of me.

It wasn't a poetic figure or a grandiloquent metaphor.

Literally, every time I closed my eyes, I felt its weight in my hand, its balance on my wrist, the touch of the hilt against my fingers.

And when I drew it, the world stopped.

There were no more glances.

There were no more rumors.

Only my breathing.

And the blade.

Weeks had passed since the ritual explosion, and despite the initial fear, there were no punishments.

There were no restrictions, only silence.

A silence that was sometimes heavier than any judgment.

I knew everyone was talking.

That they were watching me out of the corner of their eyes.

That they called me "the girl who touched the heart of the Tree" or "the reckless one of the lightning."

But I never cared about that. What mattered to me was that Luahn was still alive.

And that I had to become stronger.

For him.

For me.

For what was to come.

My training intensified, not because anyone demanded it of me... but because I did it myself.

Every day I woke up before the sun.

I ran, stretched, practiced forms with the wooden sword and then with the steel one.

My mother helped me when she could, although she had given up the sword, she had been trained by my grandfather, who was a great warrior, and she knew what she had to teach me.

My father... watched me.

Sometimes I thought he was just waiting for me to fail.

Or to surprise him.

I didn't know which of the two options would scare him more.

"Again," Fortz said one morning as he clashed his practice spear against mine.

"I'm tired," I replied, sweat dripping down my neck.

"And do you think the enemy will stop if you say that in the middle of war?"

"No."

"Then... again."

I took a deep breath and lunged forward.

Every time I released my energy, the air filled with moisture.

The water came to my call as if it recognized its name in my blood.

But the lightning... that was another story.

The lightning didn't respond.

It screamed.

A buzzing in my ears, a jolt in my veins, a dance that followed no rhythm or reason.

There were times when I hurt myself.

When I had trouble breathing after using it.

But I kept trying.

Because I had felt what it was like to lose control.

And I knew that the only way to master that power... was to make peace with it.

Even so, it wasn't all training.

Liifa was still my loudest friend.

Selena, the most mysterious.

And Remin with her friends who joined us from time to time.

With them, I could laugh.

With them, I could be more than just a warrior of the Tree.

Sometimes we played at imitating the great heroes of past wars.

Liifa always wanted to be the warrior queen Yzma.

Remin chose General Karun.

And me...

"You should be Dievas!" Liifa said with a laugh.

"What if I don't want to be a goddess?"

"Then be yourself. Emilia, the one who split lightning in two."

One afternoon, after a practice fight, my father handed me a damp cloth to wipe my face.

We were alone.

"You're making progress," he said without looking at me.

"I know," I replied without arrogance.

"But the sword you use... it's not enough for you."

"What do you mean?"

He finally looked at me.

"The weapon makes the warrior... until the warrior surpasses the weapon.

And you are already reaching that point."

"Do you want me to find another one?"

"No. I want you to forge your own."

I looked at him, surprised.

"Forging it... how?"

"With your hands, your essence.

Your will and your limits.

There is a tradition among the warriors of our lineage: When one feels that they have outgrown their blade... they travel to Relfort."

"The dwarves?"

"Yes. They forge living weapons.

With metals that only they extract.

And with rituals that have been passed down since the city of Sephros came into existence."

I fell silent.

Forging my sword...

Not just any sword, my sword.

A weapon that would respond to me, that would contain both my water and my lightning.

That would have my name written on it.

"And when should I go?" I asked.

"When you're ready.

And when you understand that a sword doesn't just cut.

It also defends.

And guides.

And protects."

That night, as I looked at the three moons from my window, I remembered something my mother told me when I was younger:

"Lightning can break mountains... but it can also guide ships in the dark."

And then I knew...

My sword would not just be a weapon.

It would be my path.