Parameter XR: Echo of Another Life — Ep.2

Episode 1: https://www.patreon.com/posts/parameter-xr-of-119532778

...

A small hall in one of the hidden corners of Rombar the Third’s castle, which this year my father had the honor of hosting the Coming of Age celebration for the heirs of the nobility, was nothing like the places where I had spent my growing up… Or rather, it would be more correct to say, my second growing up. Here it seemed to smell of palace intrigues, shady conversations, the kind of talks for which my father could banish someone from the country, and even of things I’m afraid to even think about. Even the air here felt heavy.

No, of course I’m not complaining, though I think if I said all this out loud, it would sound here like an arrogant insult. Because for a simple guard, or even a young noble, this room would look like pure luxury: stone walls covered with tapestries bearing the coats of arms of old houses, a ceiling held up by heavy oak beams, and torches burning with a steady golden light. In the center stood a massive oak table, as if carved from the trunk of an ancient tree, and around it several high-backed chairs. On the table there were already silver goblets, wine swaying quietly inside them.

I stood by a massive tapestry in the middle of the wall, showing the banner of the House of Lambert—a raven with spread wings against the background of a rising sun. In the torchlight, golden threads shimmered as if the bird was about to come alive and tear itself free from the fabric. I caught myself thinking I’d been staring at that emblem for too long, though all my attention was fixed on the figure sitting at the table.

Elianora.

She sat exactly as all noble girls were taught from infancy: back straight, shoulders slightly pulled back, knees pressed together and shifted to the side, hands folded on the thin fabric of her skirt. Nothing in her pose strayed from flawless palace etiquette. It seemed as though she had been born to be a lady. Her gaze was calm, her breathing even, her chin slightly raised. Everything in that figure seemed so proper and immaculate that I still kept asking myself the question that had long since worn me out: 'Is this even David?'

I knew David too well—after all, we’d been best friends before all this crap. He had never managed to sit still for more than a minute. He fidgeted, drummed his fingers on the desk, kept shifting a pen from one hand to the other. And now, in front of me, was the very embodiment of elegance. If I hadn’t heard that raspy laugh of his just a year ago, I would’ve sworn David had never even existed.

— You look like you’re about to start praying to the raven, — she said quietly, not turning around, but one of her fingers twitched slightly. And yet, her voice was melodic, perfectly measured, and something about her intonation pricked me inside. I just drifted off. Got lost in thought. But it was always like that, and I should’ve gotten used to it by now, because in the local tongue she always sounded this way—for everyone. Only when we switched to English did she become “one of the guys” again, the one I remembered. A dry, slightly mocking tone breaking through the foreign shell. Then before me stood not the flawless portrait of an aristocrat, but my friend. Real, alive, with that same tone he once used to throw jabs at me in the locker room after gym class.

I gave a crooked grin, keeping my eyes on the tapestry.

— And you look… — I hesitated, searching for the word. — Too calm.

She tilted her head slightly, as if weighing my words, and raised her brow just a little.

— Prince Taleus, — Elianora began softly, turning her head toward me so that in the torchlight her profile seemed carved from marble. — You are far too…

— In English, — I cut her off sharply, leaning forward, unable to hold back. — Please.

She blinked, her perfectly arched brows twitching ever so slightly, but almost at once a quick, nervous grin flickered across her lips—the very one, too alive to belong to a lady.

— Mike, — she said now in our old tongue, and I felt as if a weight lifted, — you’re too tense, drink some wine. You’re allowed now, you’re an adult, after all, — the corner of her lips twitched, and in that movement I caught a glimpse of the same David I once knew.

I took a goblet, but didn’t rush to drink. The red wine swayed quietly, reflecting the flames of the torches.

— Never thought I’d be sitting in a castle, waiting for Mr. Caldwell and… waiting for others from class. This sounds like the start of some cheap sci-fi novel, — I muttered.

Elianora smirked and was just about to reply when suddenly the door creaked. I flinched, while she, on the contrary, stayed calm, like a statue.

A tall, lean young man walked in, who outwardly looked barely sixteen. The apprentice of the court mage Kaldurin. His hair was dark, slightly wavy, loosely tied back with a ribbon. On his shoulders hung a long dark-blue robe, held by a silver belt embroidered with the symbol of the royal academy.

— Glad you came, — he said quietly but with confidence. — Now is the right time: the ball keeps everyone distracted. No one will disturb us here.

I couldn’t help but mumble:

— Mr. Caldwell… I thought you wouldn’t come, — the words slipped out on their own, even though my mind told me they sounded far too dumb for a meeting in a place like this.

The teacher lifted his chin, and with a faint, barely noticeable smile, looked at me as if peering over the narrow shadow of glasses he obviously didn’t wear—yet for some reason, I saw them, as though I were back in class again, homework undone.

— Michael, — he said calmly, in a voice deep for his current form, though it carried a trace of tension. — I always come. Especially when you need it the most.

Elianora gave a quiet snort, almost unnoticeable, but I caught the familiar intonation of David.

Two more figures appeared behind him.

The first to enter was a girl. Tall, graceful, as if woven from the fabric of light itself, gliding through the hall. Long silvery-white hair fell over her shoulders, framing her pointed ears, each strand seeming to shimmer in the torchlight. Emerald eyes, cold and bright, swept across the room, stopping on me and Elianora—lingering on her a little longer than courtesy allowed. Her slight, almost imperceptible squint seemed to say: 'And who is this worthless creature…'

— Lady Selina of House Ilvaris, — Caldwell announced, his voice carrying unusual solemnity. — Eldest daughter of an ancient elven line. You once knew her as Rachel Morris.

Something clenched inside my chest. The name hit like someone had yanked a whole heap of bitter memories from my head: her snide remarks in class, the condescending looks from under perfectly done lashes, the quiet giggle with her friends whenever I couldn’t bring myself to speak up in literature class.

Elianora raised her chin slightly, her face still the icy mask of an aristocrat, but I noticed—her fingers gripped the folds of her dress. David remembered her as well as I did.

— Ah… — Selina dipped her head in a measured bow, her voice sounding like taut silver strings. — What a remarkable meeting. Prince Stiveir and… Lady Wortwing. So, who are you really? — her tone suddenly cooled, tinged with either envy or mockery.

She wasn’t speaking to me, though I was a prince and, in some sense, even her possible future husband, given our bloodlines. No, Selina—Rachel—wasn’t looking at me at all. She stared straight at Elianora. Emerald eyes, far too cold for a young girl, burned into her as if stripping her down to the bone.

Elianora—David—remained silent, and in that silence there was more said than any words could carry. I saw the tension in her frame, though she held her posture as if none of this concerned her. For a moment her fingers twitched almost imperceptibly on the armrest of the chair, then went still.

The room suddenly fell into an almost tangible silence, so deep I could hear my own heartbeat. And then—footsteps. Barely audible, yet so heavy that the torches seemed to dim with every step.

The second one entered the hall nothing like Selina—she came in like a blinding ray, certain the whole world had to turn and look. He, on the other hand, walked in quietly, like a shadow slipping inside. The door didn’t even creak. I only noticed him when Caldwell turned slightly and said:

— Kaiden.

A young man in a long white cloak embroidered with golden symbols of the old cult stopped at the threshold. His hair was chestnut, soft, slightly tousled, but his eyes… dark gray, calm, far too calm for his age. He wasn’t looking at us, but rather through us, and only then shifted his gaze to Caldwell.

— The Lord guided my steps here, — he said softly, yet clearly, and his voice sent a chill down my spine.

— Allow me to present: Kaiden, son of healer Lauris, — Mr. Caldwell announced. — Or, to put it in terms you’ll understand better—Samuel Price.

— Samuel… — I repeated quietly, barely believing my ears. Sam. Damn it, it really was him. Only now, standing before me wasn’t the skeptic with his endless arguments in history class and his constant “prove it.” It was a young man whose voice carried the certainty of a fanatic.

Selina was the first to break the pause. She tilted her head slightly, her silvery hair slipping softly from her shoulder, and a venomous note flashed in her smile:

— Ah, how touching. Even your unbelief seems to have been left behind with that old life, Sammy. Now you talk as if a holy prophet himself descended into this hall.

Kaiden—Sam—didn’t blink, didn’t so much as shift his expression. His gaze stayed calm, and in that calmness there was something terrifying.

— Words of truth don’t need your approval, Lady Ilvaris, — he replied evenly, like he’d cut the words with a blade. — We are not here by chance. We were gathered because it was the will of the Higher Ones.

I clenched my teeth, knowing this was the start of it. Selina didn’t even twitch an eyebrow. She was still staring at Elianora, as if from the very beginning her real goal wasn’t these religious quarrels, but pressing her—forcing out even a single wrong move.

Mr. Caldwell, apparently sensing how quickly the air in the hall was heating up, slapped his palm against the back of a chair. His voice rang firm:

— Enough. We’re not here for bickering. — His eyes swept over us, lingering on me and Elianora. — I think it’s time to introduce you as well.

His gaze slid to me.

— Prince Taleus Stiveir, — he said, pronouncing each word distinctly, as if testing how heavy they would fall into this room. — To you, he is the heir of King Alen. To me, — he paused for a moment, the corner of his lips twitching in the faintest smirk, — he will always remain Michael Stevenson.

Something clenched inside me. It was as if he had just ripped off a veil, and even the walls of this hall now knew who I was.

Selina, Rachel, finally tore her gaze away from Elianora and looked at me, lifting her chin. Her smile thinned to near transparency, and her emerald eyes flashed.

— Michael… — she drawled, and that same venomous mockery I remembered from the old world rang in her voice. — That worthless coward who used to tremble like a little rabbit at the board… a prince by blood? Ah, the world really does have a sense of humor.

I clenched my teeth, feeling a wave of anger rise inside. Rachel, now Selina, who seemed the worst version of Rachel, stood before me bathed in elven haughtiness, and her entire being embodied the sarcasm I had hated back in the school corridors.

— More respect for His Highness, — Elianora said evenly, without hesitation, and her voice rang in such a way that not a single crack could be heard in it.

She sat straight, chin slightly lifted, as if noble blood itself had given her posture. But I saw: her nails dug a little deeper into the fabric of her skirt. That was not the gesture of a refined lady. That was David, holding back the urge to roar in Rachel—Selina’s—face the way he would have in the old world.

Selina tilted her head slightly, and her lips curved into a smile.

— Oh, how touching, — she purred, and her voice rang like a thin string. — You defend his honor so deftly, Lady Wortwing. As if a future… wife. — The last word landed with deliberate emphasis, like a needle plunged into skin.

Silence struck louder than any shout.

Selina couldn’t resist, realizing she had hit right on target; a quiet chuckle slipped from her lips. She leaned forward slightly, her hair slipping over her shoulder, emerald eyes boring into Elianora.

— And who are you, Miss Perfection? Monica? Angela? Or maybe my best friend Brandy… Although no, — Selina bit her lip for a second, just like back then during her taunts, and her smile sharpened. — You’re definitely not Brandy. She would never defend this "prince" and certainly couldn’t play the 'little princess' so well.

I felt it all going too far and with every fiber of my being wanted to protect Elianora, David, but the moment I opened my mouth, as if knowing my impulse, she raised her hand. It was a light but sharp movement, honed to perfection.

— Don’t, Mike, — her voice came out unexpectedly firm. Not a trace of haughtiness, not a scrap of affectation. In it stepped that same David I remembered: blunt, harsh, sometimes too rude.

— But David, she’s— — I blurted, but Elianora turned so sharply that the hem of her black dress flared up like the wing of that raven on the tapestry. Her eyes cut into me with an icy stare and for a moment she was not Lady Wortwing, but my friend, ready to sock me on the shoulder for saying one careless word.

Selina froze. The smile vanished, her emerald eyes widened, and for the first time I saw on her face not arrogant superiority, but pure bewilderment. She blinked. Once, then again. For a second it seemed like her brain simply refused to put two pictures together: the flawless aristocrat sitting in a perfect pose, and my words.

— Wait… — she breathed out, and in her voice slipped that exact tone of Rachel from the old world, as if the elven pretentiousness had been stripped away. — You mean… that was… a dude?

Silence slammed into the hall louder than a bell. Even the torches seemed to burn lower for a moment.

And then the room was shattered by loud, rolling, viciously genuine laughter. Selina—Rachel—burst out laughing, pressing her hand to her lips to keep it from echoing too wildly, but the sound still rolled under the beams of the ceiling.

— Ha-ha-ha! You’ve got to be kidding me?! — she gasped through laughter, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. — This is the best gift I could’ve ever gotten! Loser David, who always stuck up for Michael like a puppy trailing after its owner… now sitting here in a dress, in a corset, playing the lady? This is… this is a masterpiece!

Elianora didn’t move. She stood straight like a statue, chin slightly raised, gaze cold and lifeless. Only I, knowing David, saw the twitch in her neck. Kaiden inclined his head, and in his eyes there was neither surprise nor mockery. He spoke softly, almost in a whisper, but so clearly that every person in the hall heard him:

— The paths of the Almighty are beyond comprehension. He places upon us the roles we are meant to play, and it is not for us to complain that those roles seem humiliating. Even the fallen can be chosen. Even disgrace can be a blessing.

And then Elianora broke.

— Sam, don’t you dare get involved right now! — she snapped.

— Yes-yes, don’t interfere when ladies are discussing their… delicate matters, — Selina cut her off, silver ringing in her venomous mockery.

— Enough! — The voice of Master Caldwell, booming as if from the heavens themselves, suddenly struck sharp, like in the old days, making everyone fall silent and turn toward him. Even Selina flinched and bit her lip, like a little girl caught in mischief. Her smile slipped away, her eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t dare protest.

Caldwell stood tall, his silhouette seeming to double in size in the glow of the torches. He braced both hands on the table, and his heavy voice crashed down on us like a great bell calling to judgment:

— Enough games! — his eyes flashed. — I made a vow to protect you, and I will not allow you to tear each other apart over grudges from the past.

Caldwell straightened and gestured to the massive oak table. The heavy silence pressed against our ears as we sat down. I was first, the goblet of wine before me trembling faintly in the torchlight. Elianora sat without a sound, her dress whispering softly against the stone floor. Selina sank into her chair as though settling onto a throne, chin tilted high. Kaiden settled calmly, hands folded on his knees, his face perfectly serene, as though all those quarrels were nothing but wind before the storm.

The teacher’s gaze swept over us. For a moment, it felt like I was back in his classroom, only instead of chalk in his hand there was a carved staff.

— You should have realized it by now, — he spoke low and firm, — we didn’t end up here by chance. And this parameter, XR=9, is no coincidence either. We must find everyone and uncover the truth.

My heart clenched. Everyone?

Caldwell paused and leaned forward slightly.

— I’ve already found four more, — his voice sounded muted, but that only made it heavier. — They live in different lands, in different houses, under different names. But they are all ours. Your classmates.

Elianora’s gaze shot up. In her eyes flickered something alive and real, so unlike Selina’s emerald coldness.

— Who? — she asked, and there was a tremor of urgency in her voice.

— Not here, not now, — Caldwell answered. — The time hasn’t come yet. But know this: you are part of something greater. That is all I can say for now. I’m still studying the ancient writings.

Selina let out a quiet chuckle, leaning back in her chair.

— Ancient writings? Human magical fairy tales can’t compare to my family’s library, and even there, there’s not a word about this XR, — she cut in with an icy smile, resting her hand on the back of the chair as if she owned the hall itself.

Caldwell didn’t so much as twitch a brow. He only let his gaze travel over us slowly and, as always, spoke measuredly, each word carving itself into memory:

— As a future member of the Royal Magical Council, I have access to archives barred even to the lords of elven houses. And trust me, there are mentions. Sparse, fragmented—but far too ancient to be mere invention.

The torches along the walls crackled as if to confirm his words. I caught myself holding my breath.

— XR is not a title, not a privilege of blood, — he went on. — It is a seal placed by forces older than dynasties or lineages. I still don’t fully understand what it means. But one thing is clear: you are bound. And each of you will be drawn into events that will change not only the fate of your houses… — his eyes lingered on me longer than anyone else, — but the fate of the world itself.

Caldwell fell silent, and the hall seemed to tremble with his words. The torches hissed, shadows stretched long, as if the very walls were listening.

Selina lifted her chin, ready to fire back something mocking, but in the end only curled her lips and turned away. Still, it pleased her to feel like a weaver of the world’s fate.

Kaiden inclined his head, his eyes catching the firelight—calm, yet too dark not to be hiding something deeper.

Elianora sat unmoving, once again regaining that sculpted grace that had slipped for a few minutes during her clash with Selina.

As for me… I looked at all of them, and suddenly I felt it clearly: We were bound, all of us, by this strange mark of XR, by a past none of these local lords could ever understand, and by a future we ourselves were afraid to even imagine.

I clenched my fists under the table, trying not to show how hard my heart was hammering. Strange as this world was… we were once again thrown into the same story. And damn it, I realized—no, I already knew for sure—that from here on out, things were only going to get more dangerous.