The air was thick with smoke.
Ivan knelt in the courtyard of his home. Or what was left of it. The white marble was now black with soot. Large cracks ran through the walls like veins.
He held his sword. The steel felt heavy and useless. His hands were shaking, but he gripped the hilt tighter. It was the only thing left.
His family… where was his family?
He remembered Alaric, his oldest brother, the heir to the throne. He remembered seeing him fall. He remembered the others, too. He tried to push the thoughts away. It was too much.
A man walked out of the gray smoke.
He moved slowly, without a sound. He wore clean, white robes. The ash and dirt of the ruined city did not touch him. He was young, handsome, and his eyes were cold.
It was him. Superbia. The Sin of Pride.
Ivan felt a raw anger build inside him. He used it to force himself to stand up. He pointed his sword at the man. The tip of the blade trembled.
"Come on, then," Ivan said. His voice was rough and broken. "Come to me, you fucker."
Pride did not stop. He did not look at Ivan. He just kept walking. His eyes were fixed on the broken throne at the top of the palace ruins.
He walked right past Ivan.
He was so close. Ivan could smell the clean scent of his robes, a strange perfume in the middle of all the smoke. One step. One push of his sword. That was all it would take.
'Do it,' a voice screamed in his head. 'Kill him. Avenge them.'
But he couldn't move.
His body was frozen. A deep tremor ran through him, a violent shake he could not control. It wasn't fear of dying. Death would be easy. This was something else. It was the feeling of being completely, utterly worthless.
He was not an enemy. He was not even a problem. He was just… nothing.
Pride continued walking, his back now to Ivan. He never looked back.
Ivan stood there, his sword still raised. A failure.
Then, the ground shook.
Another creature came out of the smoke. It was huge, like a lion made of black stone and angry muscle. Its eyes glowed like hot coals. It growled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated in Ivan's chest.
It was Pride's pet. This was the thing that would kill him.
The monster looked at Ivan. It lowered its body, ready to attack.
Ivan didn't have time to think.
The beast moved. It was a black blur. It didn't bite or claw him. It just hit him. A solid wall of force slammed into his chest. He heard his own bones crack.
He flew backward through the air like a stone.
He crashed through a broken wall, and his vision exploded into pain and darkness.
His back hit the ground.
The pain began to fade. He was tired. He looked up at the sky. The smoke was clearing.
A bright light appeared.
It was not the sun. It was a pure, white light that filled everything. It was silent. It erased the world.
Ivan closed his eyes. A single tear ran down his face, cutting a path through the dirt and blood.
'This is the end.'
He waited for it to be over.
But nothing happened.
The light went away. He was in darkness, but it was the normal darkness of closed eyes. The smell of smoke was gone. Now he smelled dirt and sweat. The silence was gone. He heard people running and the sound of swords hitting each other.
He felt… okay. The terrible pain in his chest was gone. He could breathe again.
'Is this a memory?' he thought. 'The memories you see before you die?'
A loud, angry voice cut through his thoughts.
"Valerius! Can you tell the class why you are sleeping on my training field?"
Ivan's eyes opened.
He was not in the ruins. He was on the ground, in the dirt of a training field. The sky was blue. Students in training clothes were running past him. Some of them were laughing at him.
A man stood over him. It was Commander Valerius, the academy's martial instructor. His face was stern, his arms were crossed. He looked exactly like he did three years ago. He looked alive.
The commander's question repeated in his head. 'Why are you on the ground?'
Ivan's mind was slow. He was still feeling the phantom pain of being hit by the monster. He stared up at the commander, confused.
"Well?" the commander demanded. "I'm waiting."
Ivan blinked. He needed to say something. The first word that came out was simple.
"Uh…" he said. "Gravity."
A few students nearby heard him and laughed loudly. The commander's face got darker.
"Gravity, you say?" he growled. "Fine. Get your ass up and give me ten laps around the field! Move it!"
Ivan quickly got to his feet. His body felt strange. It was weak and small. But it was not broken. He was fourteen years old again.
He started to run.
The other students pointed at him as he began his punishment. He ignored them. His mind was spinning.
This was not a memory. You can't feel the dust in your throat in a memory. You can't feel your muscles burn. This was real.
He kept running. He looked down at his hands. They were soft, with no scars from the war. He looked up at the flags on the academy walls. The golden sun of the Valerian Empire was bright and whole.
Everything was the way it was supposed to be. Before everything went wrong. Before the end.
He ran, and a crazy idea started to form in his mind. An idea that was terrifying, and beautiful.
'Did I… come back in time?'