The sword slid into Kael Veythar's chest with a quiet, practiced motion.
He did not cry out. He did not resist. He only exhaled slowly as warmth spread through his robes, soaking the stone altar beneath him.
The plaza was silent at first, then murmurs rippled through the gathered crowd. Nobles in silk cloaks whispered behind jeweled fans, priests in ivory robes recited prayers under their breath, and commoners craned their necks to catch a glimpse of the condemned man whose life was slipping away so quietly.
Kael's gaze wandered lazily over the scene. He had stood here before, many times, though no one else knew it. The chants of the priests were familiar, the banners fluttering on the palace gates were unchanged, and even the smell of incense mixed with iron felt the same. This city thought itself eternal, but Kael had watched it rise, crumble, and rise again, life after life.
His heart slowed.
The executioner stepped back, wiping the blade as if he were merely cleaning a kitchen knife. The priests raised their voices, proclaiming judgment fulfilled. Kael closed his eyes. His body sagged against the cold chains that bound him, but he felt no fear.
Only stillness.
Only the familiar weight of another death.
And then, as always, there was darkness.
---
Kael's eyes opened.
The world around him was not a plaza but a narrow cave, dimly lit by faint blue moss clinging to the damp stone walls. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, echoing softly. The air was cold and smelled of earth and decay.
He sat up slowly, his hand instinctively going to his chest. Smooth, unbroken skin met his fingertips. No wound, no blood. Just the steady rhythm of a heart that refused to stay silent.
Kael let out a soft breath and leaned back against the wall.
"Again." His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.
He closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the gentle drip of water and the faint rustle of unseen creatures scurrying in the shadows. The quiet felt almost peaceful, like a lullaby meant to soothe him back to sleep.
But Kael was not soothed. He was not surprised. This was no miracle. This was routine.
Life, death, and life again.
He had lost count of the exact number of lives he had lived, but he knew it was more than a hundred. Perhaps more than a thousand. And each one was filled with the same struggles, the same betrayals, and the same endings.
This time, he had awoken younger than ever. His hands were smaller, his frame thinner, his voice quieter. Perhaps twelve years old, maybe younger. He examined his arms, pale and thin, before curling them around his knees.
"Another cycle," he murmured, his tone calm, almost detached. "Another chance."
Kael remained seated for a long while, letting his thoughts settle. The darkness was a comfort to him now. It gave him time to think, to plan.
There was always a reason for his rebirths, though he had yet to uncover it. Each lifetime brought him new memories, and over time, he had learned to piece them together like fragments of a shattered mirror. But the reflection was still incomplete.
Something… or someone… was pulling the strings of fate.
And he was determined to find out who.
---
Kael eventually stood, brushing dirt from his simple tunic. His body was weak but healthy. He took a cautious step forward, then another, following the soft glow of moss that lined the cavern walls. The path ahead twisted and turned, the sound of dripping water guiding him deeper.
He found himself at the mouth of the cave, where a cold breeze swept in, carrying the scent of pine and distant rain. Outside lay a vast forest, its towering trees stretching high into the misty morning sky. A soft fog clung to the underbrush, and the faint chirping of birds filled the air.
It was peaceful. Too peaceful.
Kael stepped out slowly, scanning the surroundings with calm, measured eyes. In another life, he might have been startled by the strangeness of awakening in an unknown land. But centuries of experience had taught him caution, patience, and above all, observation.
Every detail mattered.
The soil was soft, suggesting recent rain. The moss on the trees glowed faintly, meaning he was in a northern region where the winters were harsh. And the cave he had awoken in… it felt like a place where few humans had ventured.
He crouched down, running his fingers through the damp earth.
"Remote. Isolated," he whispered to himself. "Good. That gives me time."
Kael began walking through the forest, moving with a careful, measured pace. His bare feet made little sound on the forest floor, and he instinctively avoided dry branches that might crack underfoot. This body was weak, but he still remembered the skills of a hunter, an assassin, a thief. Even in a child's frame, his instincts had not dulled.
Hours passed as he wandered, gathering what little information he could. He found a stream, its water clear and cold, and cupped his hands to drink. He spotted tracks—deer, rabbits, and something larger with clawed feet. Monsters, perhaps. That meant he was still in a dangerous land.
But danger was nothing new.
By nightfall, Kael had found shelter beneath a thick tree with roots that formed a small, natural hollow. He gathered fallen branches and dry leaves, careful not to disturb the quiet forest around him, and made himself a crude bedding.
He lay back, gazing at the dark canopy above. The stars here were unfamiliar, arranged in constellations he did not recognize. That, too, was a clue.
Another world. Another cycle. Another beginning.
Kael's expression remained calm, but his thoughts churned. He had lived so many lives that his memories often felt like an ocean he could drown in. He remembered kingdoms rising and falling, emperors crowned and dethroned, entire bloodlines wiped from existence. Yet, with every life, he learned more—secrets of ancient magic, lost techniques, forbidden rituals.
And each time, he came closer to an answer.
He closed his eyes.
"There's always a reason," he murmured softly, his voice barely audible over the whisper of the wind. "And I'll find it. No matter how many lives it takes."
---
Sleep came lightly, as it always did.
Kael dreamed of nothing.
When dawn broke, pale sunlight filtering through the mist, he rose and began his search for civilization. He followed the stream, knowing water often led to settlements, but he moved carefully, sticking to the underbrush, ears alert for danger.
It wasn't long before he saw signs of human activity—a crude wooden snare set near a tree, footprints along the stream, and the faint smell of smoke carried by the wind.
He crouched low, studying the footprints. Small, perhaps belonging to a child, and barefoot like his own. That was… unusual.
Kael's lips curved slightly. Not a smile, not quite, but an expression of intrigue.
He followed the scent of smoke, moving with silent steps, until he came upon a small clearing. There, nestled between two large trees, was a humble hut made of stone and wood, its roof patched with moss. Smoke curled lazily from a hole in the roof, and a line of herbs hung to dry near the entrance.
A simple home. Remote. Isolated.
Just like him.
Kael crouched in the shadows, watching for movement. He saw no one outside, but he did not rush forward. Patience was survival. Patience was power.
For now, he would observe.
For now, he would wait.
And so began Kael Veythar's new life—quietly, patiently, in a world that did not yet know his name.
But it would.
It always did.
---