Lying on my cot, arms crossed behind my head, I stared at the canvas of the tent as it rippled softly in the night breeze. Around the camp, the fires were going out one by one. The guards were changing shifts. The wind had shifted. It carried that smell of endings I knew too well: sweat, metal, the kind of fear no one names. Tomorrow, the Hero's army would march against the Demon Lord. And I, Sora, the shadow support, the kid they'd picked up in a burned village, would be on the front line.
Not for glory. For loyalty. Or maybe love. That ridiculous word I kept repeating to myself every time I looked at her.
So when Lara lifted the flap of the tent, I first thought it was a dream.
She wasn't wearing her priestess dress. Just a long white shirt, too big, open at the collar, falling halfway down her thighs. Her hair was loose, slightly damp, as if she'd just bathed. She hesitated to enter. Fingers knotted. Eyes darting away. She was breathing wrong.
"Are you asleep?" she whispered.
I shook my head. My voice stayed trapped in my throat. I think she smiled — just a little. Not a joyful smile. A fragile one, almost guilty. She closed the flap behind her, as if to cut us off from the world.
She sat next to me, wordless, knees drawn to her chest. You could hear the crackle of a distant fire. My heart was pounding too fast. I wanted to say something — anything — but she beat me to it.
"You know what's going to happen tomorrow."
It wasn't a question. I nodded. She inhaled deeply, then let her legs drop to the ground. Her hand brushed mine. It was trembling.
"I don't want to die without... doing it. At least once. With you."
I froze. My breath stopped. I didn't know if it was a joke, pity, a mistake. But her gaze didn't tremble anymore. Her cheeks were flushed, eyes wet, and she was staring at me with that intensity you only reserve for goodbyes.
She leaned in and kissed me.
Not like in the stories. Not passionately. Not with tongue. Just her lips on mine, soft, dry, hesitant. She was scared. And I was fire. My skin burned, my loins betrayed me, my cock stirred in a mix of raw desire and unbearable tenderness.
She undid her shirt clumsily. Her chest appeared — shy, tense. Her breasts quivered with each breath. She lay on top of me, guided by an awkward instinct. I touched her like one touches a secret. And she moaned. Faintly. As if even pleasure made her want to cry.
When she straddled me, taking me in slowly, I clenched my teeth not to scream.
It was warm. Slippery. Tight. I was inside her, fully, and I had no body anymore, no thoughts. Just the raw tremor of her belly against mine, her hips over mine, her hands clutching my shoulders like she was afraid to fall.
She moved slowly. Too slowly. Like she wanted the moment to last forever. Each motion brought me closer to the edge. I felt her all around me, pulsing, alive.She leaned toward my ear, panting, and I thought I heard a sob.
When I came, she moaned into my throat — and everything froze.
A red flash tore through the air.
Right above my chest, a blazing circle appeared. A ring of dark light, like forged from liquid blood, slowly spun around my heart. I saw it. I felt it. It pulsed with me.
Lara froze.
She sat up. She saw the ring. Her eyes widened with terror.
I looked at her, lost. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. She stepped back half a pace, naked, trembling.
Then... she smiled.
A small, broken smile. Like she'd just pressed a knife to her own throat.
She leaned in, kissed my forehead one last time.Her lips were cold now.
"You're going to sleep well, Sora."
I didn't have time to reply. A wave of vertigo hit me. My muscles slackened all at once, eyelids heavy. My mouth opened soundlessly. My heart pounded against the burning ring.
She dressed slowly. Picked up her shirt. Avoided my eyes.
Just before the black swallowed me, she turned around. She paused at the tent's entrance, looked back at me — and she was still smiling.
I came to — but not in a pleasant way.
First was the cold stone beneath my naked back. Rough, icy, almost alive. Then the wind — dry, sharp, brutal — caressing my exposed body with autumn's cruelty. Each breeze triggered a violent shiver. Not from fear. From pain.
Dull aches flared in my legs, arms, belly. Bruises. Cuts. Muscles that had been strained and torn. I opened my eyes abruptly — and was blinded instantly by the light. The sun exploded in my skull. I shut them again, gasping.
But I already knew: something was wrong. Something had shifted.
My body screamed. I was pinned down. Bound. Trapped. I opened my eyes again, fighting through the light — and what I saw took my breath away.
I was there. Naked. Chained to a black stone platform, in the center of a vast public square. All around me — the crowd.
A crowd like the ones at royal executions: hundreds, maybe thousands packed around the platform. Heavy cloaks, noble furs, gleaming armor. Priests in golden robes, children perched on shoulders, beggars clinging to columns. Faces twisted in hatred, fear, or worse... excitement.
And facing me, standing atop the steps in his immaculate white outfit: Aedan. The Hero. The Chosen One. The traitor.
He raised his hand slowly, like presenting a damaged trophy, and his voice, amplified by a spell, rang through the dry air.
— The monster has awakened.
Uproar burst from the crowd. Shouts. Insults. Spit. I barely made out the words, but the poison was the same in every tongue.
— Kill him!
— Burn him!
— Kill the demon!
I clenched my teeth. I was cold. I was in pain. My body screamed from every angle. My wrists were already bleeding in the chains. Every breath was torture. But what twisted my gut wasn't the pain. It was the confusion.
What the hell is going on?
Around him, soldiers moved aside. I recognized their white tunics, Church insignias, Royal Guard officers, mages from the Silver Tower. The same ones who'd cheered me a month ago for killing a demon general at two hundred meters with a single arrow.
They all looked at me like a beast. A mistake to erase.
And they were there.
Eléanore, straight-backed, impassive, eyes full of judgment. Naïa, arms crossed, indifferent, almost bored.
And Lara.
Standing. Frozen. Her hood barely hiding her face. But I saw her lips. I recognized that mouth. The one that had moaned into mine the night before. The one that had kissed me, bitten me, begged me not to leave her alone. The one that had offered herself to me — naked, trembling, beautiful.
And she said nothing. Not a word. Not a gesture. Just… absence.
Aedan raised his hand again, then declared, his voice still carried by magic:
— Sora of the North, companion of the Heroic Party, is charged with attempted rape of Priestess Lara, demonic pact, and high treason against the Crown. A dark mark was detected on his heart.
I laughed. A dry, strained, nervous laugh. A rasp of terror and madness. I didn't even know why. Maybe because it was so grotesque. So massive. Maybe because it was all I had left.
Aedan descended the steps at a calm pace. He approached, his shadow covering me entirely. I could smell his gloves, the clean scent of his oiled, confident body. He crouched in front of me like one does before a dying man.
— You were getting too strong. Training in secret. Growing too fast. And worst of all… you were looking where you shouldn't.
He placed two fingers on my chest. Right where the ring had marked me.
— This power… you think it's a gift? It's a warning. You don't deserve it, Sora. You were never meant to shine. You were the shadow. The extra. And now you're a parasite. An anomaly to erase.
I snapped.
I screamed. I pulled at my chains like a madman, feeling my muscles tear. My nails ripped off against the stone, scraping until they bled. I dug my heels into the wood of the pillar. I bit the air. I struggled like a wounded beast who knows it's going to die.
It took four of them to hold me down. Four soldiers to pin me to the cross. I groaned. I cried without tears. I wanted to kill them all. With my hands. My teeth. I wanted to rip their throats out. His. Theirs. The whole fucking world's.
The crowd roared.
— KILL HIM!
— DIE!
— BURN THE DEMON!
I lifted my head. My neck cracked. One last time.
Aedan was about to draw his sword. Behind him stood the three women. And Lara… finally looked at me.
Our eyes met. She smiled. Not a sad smile. Not regret. Not goodbye. A perfectly calm smile. Dignified. Cold. The smile of a priestess watching her offering burn.
I snapped.
I spat blood. And I exploded.
— YOU BETRAYED ME LIKE A DOG AND LOOK AT ME LIKE I'M SHIT!
I screamed, tearing my vocal cords.
— I'LL REMEMBER YOUR FACES. ALL OF THEM. UNTIL YOU BEG… TO DIE.
Aedan drew his sword.
And the blade fell.
There was nothing left. No pain. No light. No voice. Just this black void, liquid, thick like dried blood. A place with no up, no down, no time, no body. I floated there. Or fell. I didn't know anymore. My mind drifted, disembodied, swallowed by the abyss.
Then something returned. A heartbeat. Slow. Heavy.
Boom.
A pulse. At the center of my chest. Like a heart… but not mine.
Boom.
A dull heat rose in my torso. A red light, brief, pierced the darkness.
Connection established.
The voice echoed like a whisper in my skull. Cold, calm, inhuman.
Primary core synchronization: complete. Heart Seal active. Temporal reload... full.
And suddenly, I fell. Not into a pit. Not into a dream. I fell into my own body.
I jolted awake, gasping for air like a drowning man. My sheets were soaked in sweat. My heart pounded wildly, as if trying to burst from my chest. I was lying in a bed. Not a cell. Not a cross. A bed.
Rough sheets. A coarse blanket. A cramped room with bare walls, lit by the pale glow of a winter morning. The smell of cheap soap. Worn floorboards. Cracked wood beneath the window.
I knew this place.
I got up slowly. My legs trembled. But I stood. My body... was whole. I looked down at myself. No wounds. No chains. Not a single scar.
My breath quickened.
I turned in place. Touched the table. The wall. Every corner. It was all familiar. Too familiar.
I approached the mirror hanging on the wall. And there… I saw it. My reflection. Young. Lively. Alive.
That face. Those eyes. It was me. But ten years younger. My chest was thinner. My jaw still unsure. But it was me.
— No...
I stepped back, bumping into the chair. A wave of dizziness hit me.
It was impossible. And yet… it was real.
I was back. Ten years earlier.
Before the expedition. Before the Hero. Before Lara. Before they killed me.
I stood there, silent, for long seconds. Then I placed my hand on my chest. Right there, in the center. Nothing visible. But under the skin… it pulsed. It vibrated, like a distant echo. The ring.
I felt it. Asleep. Buried. But there.
I breathed deeply. Then I smiled. Not a happy smile. Not relief. A thin smile. Bitter. Tense. The smile of a man thought dead.
They had betrayed me. Slaughtered me. Dragged me through the mud. They tied me to a stage and ripped out my heart.And now, I was here. Standing. Whole. Nothing left to lose.
I whispered, voice low, broken — but ice cold:
— My turn.