Reincarnated Into A World Of Elves As The Only Man-Chapter 22: Mother pressure

Eren’s fingers traced the silver scar along his collarbone—a reminder of three nights past when the dreams had turned violent. He’d woken thrashing in his sheets, sweat-soaked and disoriented, convinced he was fighting alongside her on Thornvale’s blood-soaked fields. With each passing night, the line between dreams and waking life blurred further.

The siblings finished bathing in comfortable silence, lost in their own thoughts as steam curled around them. Walking down the corridor toward their chambers, Eren reached for Naia’s arm, gently pulling her into a shadowed alcove between two ornate pillars. The spot was hidden from view, where the thick stone walls would keep their whispered words from reaching curious ears.

"Don’t tell Mother," Eren said firmly. "Promise me."

Naia’s expression softened slightly, though concern still lined her features. "I told you before that I won’t tell mom," she said, squeezing her sibling’s arm reassuringly.

"Not yet," Eren whispered, glancing down the corridor to ensure they remained alone. "I need to understand it myself first. Just trust me, Naia. Please."

Naia studied her brother’s face for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "I understand," she said quietly. "When you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here. Just... be careful, Eren."

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The great hall bustled with morning activity as servants laid out platters of bread still warm from the ovens, bowls of honey-sweetened porridge, and pitchers of watered wine. The palace was slowly returning to its rhythms after months of wartime austerity.

Elysia sat at the head of the long table, maps and reports pushed to one side to make room for her meal. Her eyes tracked Eren and Naia as they entered, noting how they moved in unconscious synchronization. For all their differences—Naia with her warrior’s directness, Eren with his quiet intensity—they had grown closer during her absence.

"Join me," Elysia commanded, gesturing to the seats beside her. She dismissed the advisors who had been hovering nearby, creating a bubble of privacy.

As they settled, she poured wine for each of them, diluting Eren’s more than the others—a motherly habit that persisted despite her child’s age.

"I want to know everything," Elysia said without preamble, her attention fixed on Eren. "These dreams—these visions of our enemies—could change the course of this war."

Eren tore a piece of bread, focusing on the simple task. "They come mostly at night. Fragments at first, but growing clearer."

"What exactly do you see?"

"Training grounds," Eren replied carefully. "Soldiers practicing formations unique to Thornvale. Sometimes I see battlefield maneuvers before they’re executed."

Elysia leaned forward, intensity radiating from her. "People? Commanders? Elena herself?"

"Shadows," Eren said, the lie sliding smoothly from his lips. "Voices I don’t recognize. Impressions rather than clear images."

Naia kept her eyes on her food, honoring her promise of silence.

"But you can reproduce their fighting techniques perfectly," Elysia pressed. "I saw that clearly enough this morning."

Eren shrugged. "The physical movements are the clearest part. It’s as if my body remembers what my mind only glimpses."

Frustration flickered across Elysia’s face. "Try harder. Focus when these visions come. If you could see their plans, their strategies—"

"I don’t know mother," Eren interrupted, an unusual boldness in his tone. "I can’t control what I see or when I see it."

"Then we must find a way to help you learn control," Elysia concluded. She turned to Lyra, who had been silently observing. "Your thoughts?"

Lyra tilted her head, the scar tissue around her blind eye catching the morning light. "The prophets of the eastern temples use meditation to enhance their visions. Perhaps similar techniques could help Eren."

"I could work with you on that," Lyra offered, turning to Eren. "After we continue your water element training. The disciplines are related—both require a calm center and fluid awareness."

Eren nodded gratefully, recognizing the offered reprieve. "I’d welcome your guidance."

Elysia seemed to consider arguing further but instead reached for a nearby report. "Very well. But I expect regular updates on your progress. These visions may be the advantage we need to turn this war in our favor."

The rest of breakfast passed in discussion of reconstruction efforts and tactical assessments. Eren contributed little, relieved when Lyra finally stood and gestured toward the door.

"Shall we begin your training now? The morning light is perfect for water work."

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The reflecting pool in the inner garden was ancient, its waters fed by an underground spring. Legend held that the first monarch of Moonlight had received visions while meditating here—visions that had guided the founding of their kingdom. frёeωebɳovel.com

Lyra led Eren to the pool’s edge, where smooth stones formed a small, sheltered alcove. Unlike the training courtyard, this space invited stillness and introspection.

"Mother’s frustration comes from love," Lyra said as they settled by the water. "And fear."

"I know," Eren replied, dipping his fingers into the pool. Ripples spread outward, distorting their reflections. "She fears we’ll lose everything."

"We nearly did," Lyra reminded him. She rolled up the sleeves of her robe, revealing arms corded with muscle and marked by the scars of many battles. "Three more days, and Thornvale would have breached our inner walls."

Eren was quiet for a moment. "Did you ever wonder why Elena withdrew her forces?"

Lyra’s good eye narrowed slightly. "Withdrew? That’s not what happened. We thought we were winning until Thornvale ambushed our forces in Shadowleaf Forest. Their counter-attack devastated our eastern battalion."

"That’s the official explanation given to the people," Eren murmured.

"You know something different?" Lyra’s voice sharpened with interest.

Eren hesitated, then shook his head. "Let’s focus on the training."

Lyra studied her younger sibling thoughtfully before nodding. "Water teaches us to adapt, to flow around obstacles rather than meeting them with force." She drew her hands through the pool, creating complex patterns in the water’s surface. "Your movements this morning showed that principle beautifully."

"Naia calls it cheating," Eren said with a small smile.

"Naia was trained in the traditional arts of combat, where rules and forms dictate everything," Lyra replied. "You fight like water itself—finding the path of least resistance."

She guided Eren through a series of gestures designed to center awareness in the body. "Feel how the water responds to your movements. It neither resists nor yields completely—it converses with your energy."

As they worked, Eren’s movements grew more fluid, more connected. The water in the pool began to move in subtle harmony with his gestures—rising in small peaks, flowing into temporary whirlpools, responding as if it were an extension of his consciousness.

"Good," Lyra murmured. "Now let’s try something more challenging. Close your eyes and sense the water without seeing it."

Eren obeyed, his eyelids fluttering closed. The world shifted, awareness expanding beyond the limitations of sight. She could feel the water’s coolness, its movement, the way it responded to the faintest air currents.

"Now," Lyra instructed, "let your mind expand further. Beyond this pool, follow the water’s path."

Eren breathed deeply, allowing his consciousness to flow with the water—tracing its journey from the underground spring, through hidden channels beneath the palace, branching into countless passages. His awareness spread like tendrils, following water through the kitchens, the bathing chambers, out into the city beyond.

And then—darkness. A void where awareness should continue.

Eren gasped, eyes flying open. "Something’s wrong."

Lyra leaned forward. "What did you sense?"

"The western aqueduct," Eren said, a cold certainty settling in his chest. "It’s been compromised."

"Impossible," Lyra said. "It’s heavily guarded."

"Not at the source," Eren insisted. "Further back, where it passes through the old quarry. There’s a darkness there—a withdrawal of energy."

Lyra’s expression grew grave. "Are you certain?"

"Send scouts," Eren said. "Quietly. If I’m wrong, no harm done. If I’m right..."

"Then Thornvale is planning something new," Lyra finished. She rose in one fluid motion. "I’ll dispatch my most trusted people immediately."

As Lyra moved to leave, Eren caught her wrist. "Don’t tell Mother yet. Not until we know for certain."

A moment of understanding passed between them. "Another secret to keep," Lyra observed.

"Just for now," Eren promised.

After Lyra departed, Eren remained by the pool, watching ripples spread across its surface. The visions were growing stronger, more directed. What had begun as fragments in dreams was extending into waking awareness.

In the water’s reflection, for just a moment, Eren saw not his own face but Elena’s—the enemy queen’s eyes filled not with hatred but with an emotion far more disturbing: recognition.

"I see you too," Eren whispered to the phantom image. "But they’re not ready to know why."

The water stilled, and once again, only Eren’s troubled reflection remained—silver hair framing a face torn between worlds, between loyalties, between truths that could heal or destroy everything he loved.

The prophecy had never specified which side Eren would save.