The morning light crept in through the cracked wooden window, painting long shadows across the dusty floor. I sat at the edge of the bed, unmoving, eyes fixed on the wall as if it held the answers I needed. My chest rose and fell slowly. No panic. No breakdown. Just silence—and the heavy throb of something I hadn't felt in years: clarity.
I was back. Not dreaming. Not hallucinating. Not trapped in some twisted simulation. Ten years before my death. Ten years before I begged for my life in that lab. Ten years before Mira—
I cut the thought off.
I had cried enough last night. The kind of crying that left your throat raw and your bones shaking. But that was over now. I wasn't the same person who had died helpless in chains. I wasn't going to shatter again.
I reached over to the nightstand and picked up the old phone lying there. The screen flickered—barely functional—but the date was still there.
March 2, 2033.
Confirmation.
I leaned back, a bitter smile twitching at the corner of my lips.
"I really came back..." I whispered.
This wasn't mercy. It was a warning.
I slid open the drawer beneath the table and pulled out a worn leather notebook. My old self used to scribble dreams in here—plans to awaken, academy goals, little sketches of dungeons and herbs.
Now, those dreams felt distant. And painful.
I opened to the first page and stared.
I couldn't write anything yet. Not real plans. Not full strategies. My mind was still fogged with grief and rage.
But I did write one word:
"Survive."
That was the only goal that mattered right now.
---
The floor creaked behind me.
"Kael?"
Her voice.
Mira stood at the doorway, half-asleep, hair messy, rubbing her eyes. My throat tightened.
She looked so... alive.
"I made tea," she mumbled. "Come drink before it gets cold."
I nodded, voice caught in my chest. She didn't press. Just walked away. Still wrapped in her faded robe, the one she used to wear every winter.
I followed her into the kitchen. The table was small, the air filled with the scent of bitterleaf and drying herbs. Sunlight poured in, dancing on cracked walls and dusty shelves.
She handed me a chipped cup.
"You look like you didn't sleep."
"I didn't," I said softly.
She took a seat across from me, resting her chin on her hand. "Nightmares?"
I nodded.
"You get those a lot lately."
You have no idea, I wanted to say. But instead, I offered a tired smile. "Yeah."
We sat in silence for a few minutes. No awkwardness. No forced words. Just the soft sound of wind brushing against the window and the clink of her spoon.
For a moment, I let myself breathe.
But only for a moment.
---
Later, I stepped outside. The streets of Elarion's lower district hadn't changed much. Cracked stone paths, rusted lanterns swaying in the breeze, and voices echoing in alleys—some laughing, some yelling, some desperate.
I remembered this part of the city.
I remembered the fires that would swallow it years from now.
I walked past the bakery where I used to beg for crumbs. Past the old man who sold fake charms to desperate kids. Past the alley where I was mugged at knife-point on my 17th birthday.
It all felt like a warning.
Above the horizon, towering in the distance, the Obsidian Spire pierced the sky like a blade. Headquarters of Vanguard Eclipse, the second-strongest guild in humanity—and the ones who would later experiment on me.
Their emblem glinted in the sunlight.
My nails dug into my palms.
Not yet. But one day.
---
I sat near the riverside, notebook open on my lap. The water shimmered, the wind cool against my face. I remembered this exact place. This very spot where I once gave up on my dreams.
But now? I was just writing what I felt.
"They took everything." "No more trust." "Start over."
No full plans yet. Just truths. Just scars written in ink.
I had to be careful. This world was still the same.
Full of masks.
Full of traitors.
Full of people who would smile at you… and kill you when you turned around.
But I wouldn't forget.
Even if I moved in silence, I would carry every memory like a blade.
---
Evening fell. I returned home, feet aching but head clearer. Mira was asleep early. A book on her chest, mouth half open. I covered her with a blanket and sat by the window.
The city lights flickered. Somewhere in the distance, a patrol of awakeners marched by, their armor glowing faintly with mana.
In another year, half of them would be dead.
I pulled out my notebook again.
This time, I wrote one more line:
"Never forget how it ends."
The world wasn't fair.
But I didn't need fairness.
I needed strength.
And if I couldn't earn it the normal way…
I'd find another path.
I closed the book and stared at the night sky.
They said fate was written in the stars.
But this time, I had the pen.
And I was writing in blood.