The rain hadn't stopped since dawn.
Aedric stood shirtless in the center of the training arena, sweat mixing with the drizzle as steam rose off his skin. His blade trembled in his grip—not from weakness, but from restraint.
He remembered this day.
Ten years ago, this was when the instructors had labeled him "too passive."
They'd said his form lacked aggression. That he was not fit to lead an army.
Today, they would choke on those words.
Before him stood six elite trainees, hand-picked by the academy to be part of the Royal Vanguard. Noble-born. Arrogant. Smirking.
Alden, his guard, stepped forward.
"Your Highness," he whispered, uncertain, "You don't need to fight all of them at once."
Aedric didn't answer.
He raised his blade and nodded at the instructor.
"Begin."
---
The first attacker lunged—quick, confident. Aedric moved like a whisper, parrying the strike with ease and slamming his elbow into the attacker's jaw. A crack echoed. The boy went down.
Two more rushed in.
Aedric twisted between them, his foot sweeping the leg of one, his sword pommel crashing into the neck of the other.
Within ten seconds, three were down.
Gasps filled the rain-slick courtyard. Instructors froze mid-comment. Even Alden looked stunned.
Aedric wasn't just reacting—he was dismantling.
The remaining trainees hesitated. But pride was a cruel thing.
They came at him together.
Aedric let them.
He parried the dual blades in a flurry of sparks, spun low, and knocked one's knees out before turning to disarm the other with a savage upward slash. The final opponent tried to retreat—but Aedric's blade was already at his throat.
"Yield."
The boy dropped his sword.
---
The arena fell silent.
Aedric sheathed his blade and looked up to the royal balcony.
And there he was.
Prince Caelen Valtoris.
Wrapped in silver robes, hair tied back in perfect nobility, arms folded, expression unreadable. But Aedric could feel it.
That flicker of surprise in his brother's eyes.
He saw me.
> You didn't expect this version of me, did you?
Aedric allowed himself a ghost of a smile.
Let the game begin.
---
Later that evening, in his private chamber, Alden helped him unstrap his armor.
"My prince… forgive me, but… you've changed."
Aedric chuckled. "No apology needed."
Alden hesitated. "Is it true you've been… seeing visions?"
Aedric paused.
How could he explain it?
That every night he woke up gasping from memories of burning?
That he remembered battles that hadn't happened yet?
Deaths that hadn't occurred yet?
He looked Alden in the eye.
"I've been... reminded of who I am."
Alden didn't question further. He bowed and left the room.
---
Alone again, Aedric walked to the center of his chamber and knelt.
He extended his right palm.
Focused.
Let the pain surface.
And then… a flicker of fire appeared above his hand.
Not normal fire.
Black flame.
It didn't crackle or hiss — it pulsed. Like a living heart.
> The Flame of Judgment.
Aedric had awakened it in the future… just before his execution. The forbidden magic they'd burned him for. The same power they feared.
But now? He had it ten years earlier.
And this time, he'd master it from the start.
He clenched his fist and the flame vanished.
---
A knock broke the silence.
Aedric frowned.
No one was supposed to visit him this late.
He opened the door slowly… and froze.
Standing in the hallway, soaked from the rain, eyes wide with confusion and sadness...
Selene Aurin.
Her face was exactly as he remembered — soft, pale, framed by dark hair that clung to her cheeks. She looked vulnerable. Regal. Dangerous.
"Aedric..." she whispered. "I—I needed to see you."
Aedric didn't speak.
His heart, even after all the betrayal, still flinched at her voice.
"I had a dream," she said. "You were… gone. Burned. Screaming. And I—I couldn't breathe. It felt real."
He stared at her, wondering...
> Is this guilt... or is it already beginning? The signs of fate shifting?
She took a step closer.
"Aedric… are you angry with me?"
He looked into her eyes.
In another life, he would've said no. He would've held her.
But this was not that life.
This was the life he would rewrite — with blood and fire.
He smiled softly.
"I'm not angry."
Selene let out a breath of relief.
"I'm just... remembering."
And he closed the door in her face.