It started with a cup of wine and a careless tongue.
Jade's older brother, Ren, had been growing restless in the palace. The elegance, the silent rules, the coiled gazes of nobles hiding blades behind every smile—it wasn't his world. He was a drunk in a porcelain room, a storm in a glass house.
And one evening, during a feast thrown in honor of the prince's latest conquest, Ren opened his mouth and shattered the stillness.
"Your Highness," he slurred, his eyes bloodshot and sharp, "how does it feel to conquer cities with silver tongues instead of swords? Or do you keep your hands clean by feeding dogs like us to the front lines?"
The entire hall froze.
The music stuttered and died. Cups stopped midair. The prince, sitting at the head of the obsidian table, slowly turned his gaze toward Ren. He didn't speak. He only smiled.
A quiet, terrifying smile.
Jade's heart dropped. He had seen that look before—on the faces of tyrants, in another life. It was the calm before something unspeakable.
That night, the prince gave no order.
But by morning, soldiers were at their door.
Jade moved quickly, dragging Ren through the underground tunnels once used to smuggle stolen knowledge. The older brother, half-sober now, was muttering apologies, his breath ragged.
"I didn't mean it, kid... I was just talkin'—"
"You talked to the wrong man," Jade whispered, clutching his arm. "He doesn't forgive. He forgets—after blood has dried."
They fled through the city's gut—through rotted alleys, dripping stone, and dead ends masked by illusion. Jade knew where to go, how to vanish. After all, he had done it once before, in a world long past.
By the next dusk, they were gone. And in their place, a decree was nailed across the kingdom's gates:
WANTED.
Jade, the Silent Echo.
Charged with treason, manipulation of Essence, suspected forbidden arts.
Reward: 680,000 gold.
Dead or alive.
The prince made no speeches. He didn't need to. The hunt had begun.
Four Years Later
The world had changed.
Jade—now sixteen—was a myth in most tongues, a curse in others. Rumors spoke of a ghost boy who could vanish time itself, who never spoke but whose presence haunted the eyes of bounty hunters who came back broken. If they came back at all.
He wore a hood now, dyed with soot and sky. His eyes burned like forgotten ink. His Essence had matured—sharpened into something frightening. He could freeze time in seconds, read battlefields in heartbeats, and shift the flow of memory like pages in a book.
And yet... he remained hidden.
Ren was older too, quieter, guilt buried behind gritted teeth. He worked odd jobs in the shadows of cities that cursed Jade's name. But Jade didn't care about the world's whispers.
He only cared about the prince.
Because one day, he'd return.
Not as the boy who ran.
But as the shadow who rewrites fate.