The opulent guest chamber in the Blackthorne fortress was a world away from the drafty dormitories and rain-soaked alleys of Yuzar's memory. Yet, as he lay on the impossibly soft bed, the silence and the dark pressed in on him, becoming a canvas for the ghosts he had tried to seal away.
Sleep did not bring rest. It brought a flashback, vivid and cruel.
The memory engulfed him. He was Kaelan again, standing in the dusty street of Ravenfell, the magnificent airship of the Moonfall Clan casting a long shadow over him. Selene—still Lira to him then—was already pulling away, her face a mask of conflicted pain hardening into resolve.
"Kaelan... this is who I am meant to be," her voice was distant, already belonging to another world. "You... you belong to this world. It's better if you forget me. It's better if you think I died."
The words were a physical blow, but they were not the end. A young man stepped from behind her, placing a possessive hand on her shoulder. He had hair like polished silver and eyes the color of a clear sky, filled with arrogant light. His robes were finer than anything Kaelan had ever seen.
"Miss Selene, please, just give the order and I will remove this... refuse," the silver-haired boy said, his voice dripping with condescension. He looked Kaelan up and down with undisguised scorn. "The difference between our worlds is written on his face. It's pathetic."
This was Vance, Selene's childhood friend from the Moonfall Clan, her betrothed, blessed with potent Light magic.
Kaelan said nothing. He didn't beg. He didn't kneel. He just stood, a rock in the river of their contempt.
Vance laughed, a sharp, mocking sound. "Hahahaha! A commoner with no magic, daring to dream of the Moonlight Heir? Look at you. You're less than nothing."
He took a step forward, his magic flaring. "I am feeling generous. I'll give you a chance to prove your... dedication. I will attack you three times. If you can stay on your feet, I will personally see to it that you are allowed to remain in her retinue as a servant. How does that sound?"
Kaelan's eyes flickered to Lira. Her face was cold, impassive. She didn't stop Vance. She didn't say a word.
"Lira..." Kaelan whispered, the name a plea.
She finally spoke, her voice cold. "Just go, Kaelan. You don't stand a chance. Don't make this more difficult. What we had... it was a children's game. Just a joke."
"A joke?" The word was a knife twisting in his gut. "Just a joke? You were the one who gave me warmth! You were my everything!"
Vance's smirk widened. "It seems the trash needs to be taken out."
"Do what you want," Selene said softly, looking away, her dismissal the final betrayal.
Kaelan, his heart shattered into a million pieces, looked at Vance. "Do it."
The first attack was a hammer of pure light that slammed into his chest. It stole the air from his lungs and sent searing pain through his body. He stumbled back, his boots scraping in the dirt, but he did not fall. His knees trembled but did not bend.
Vance's smirk faltered. "A stubborn worm."
The second attack was a concentrated beam of solar energy. It burned through Kaelan's cheap tunic and seared his skin. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air. Agony like he had never known wracked his body. A scream lodged in his throat, but he choked it down. He locked his muscles, his vision swimming, and remained standing. Blood trickled from his lip where he had bitten it.
Vance's face contorted in shock and anger. "How?! You have no core! You should be a stain on the ground! Fine. Let's see you withstand this!"
He began to weave a spell, his hands glowing with intense, dangerous energy. A 7th-tier spell, enough to vaporize a house. Kaelan, broken, burned, and barely conscious, could only watch it form, a star of annihilation aimed at his heart.
But the spell never landed.
Selene moved. With a flick of her wrist, not to stop Vance, but to strike out at Kaelan. A whip of condensed moonlight, far more precise and cruel than Vance's brute force, lashed out.
It didn't just hit him; it unmade him. The force lifted him off his feet and threw him through the air like a discarded puppet. He crashed into a wall, the world exploding into pain and darkness. As his consciousness fled, his eyes, refusing to close, found hers.
Her lips moved. Two words. An apology that meant nothing. "I'm sorry."
Then, the truth that meant everything. "But it's true. You're weak."
The world went black.
---
Yuzar jolted upright in the bed, a gasp tearing from his throat. The silken sheets were tangled around him, soaked with cold sweat. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. He could still feel the searing pain of the light magic, the cruel, precise sting of her moonlight whip.
The opulent room felt like a cage. The memory was more real than the dark stone around him.
He swung his legs out of bed, his body trembling not with fear, but with a cold, resurrected fury. He walked to the stand where the Black Dragon sword rested, its dark blade seeming to drink the faint moonlight from the window.
He placed a hand on the cold, scale-like pommel. The familiar, ancient malice within it stirred, a comfort in its constancy.
"We need to be stronger," Yuzar whispered, his voice rough from the dream, his violet eyes burning in the darkness. "Strong enough to erase that memory. Strong enough to make them understand their 'joke' had a punchline."
The sword didn't speak words, but he felt its agreement—a hungry, eager pulse that resonated with the icy void in his chest. The past was a wound. And he would use the rage from it to fuel his ascent until he was so powerful that the very memory would tremble before hi