Eyes widened, though his lungs were hollow. Instinct, not necessity, pulled a phantom breath into his chest as his body jerked upright with the cruel familiarity of return. Death had carried him back again, dragged his awareness to the same point, the same instant carved into his very being like a scar. The battlefield unfolded, unchanged. The ruined streets, broken stones blackened by fire. The dome of light overhead still shivered faintly, Titania's waves of holy power rolling outward like a tide that had begun to recede.
He knew the moment. He knew what followed. Yet hope, thin as it was, clawed at him again.
"We have to stop him!" Ludwig's voice cracked, raw and sharp as it tore from his throat. The words had more weight this time, as though he believed sheer force could bend the flow of fate. His shout cut through the battlefield, but no one heard him, not truly. The tide was already turning.
