Chapter 1: New Soul
Allen sat in his car, the evening traffic jam locking him in a sea of glowing brake lights. The signal ahead ticked down—two more minutes. Two minutes of waiting, breathing in the air of a common man's life. No adventure. No rush.
He leaned back, tapping the steering wheel idly. He once lived for thrills—mountain biking across steep ridges, racing downhill trails, flirting with danger. But now? His office swallowed his days. His apartment swallowed his nights. A cycle of monotony that dulled his pulse.
"Maybe tomorrow," he whispered to himself, though he wasn't sure what he meant.
Then, the sky changed.
From his car window, Allen saw the heavens stain themselves red and purple, like spilled wine bleeding into twilight. His chest tightened. His head throbbed, sharp and sudden. He clutched his temples—blinding pain splitting his skull.
And then—silence.
Allen opened his eyes.
The first thing he noticed was not the ache in his head but the weight of fabric on his shoulders. A heavy, finely stitched coat—grey as winter ash. His reflection in a polished window showed a stranger: silver-grey hair, sharper features than his own. His hands trembled as he reached for the windowpane.
Outside, the sky still burned red and purple.
The same sky.
The pain surged again. Flashes of memories—not his—rushed like fragments of broken glass. Laughter, jealousy, pride, hatred, moments of triumph and moments of fear—all colliding and vanishing just as quickly.
When it stopped, his breath was ragged, his mind spinning.
"This… isn't me," he muttered.
The chamber was large, too lavish for an ordinary man: gilded furniture, velvet drapes, and banners stitched with the sigil of a grey falcon. Before he could search further, the door creaked.
A man in a tailored suit entered, balancing a silver tray of tea and sweets. His eyes were old, calm, loyal.
"Your Highness Leonard Greyborne," the butler said, bowing.
Allen froze. The words struck him with a weight he didn't understand. Then—like a whisper in his mind—another memory surfaced.
Leonard Greyborne… House of Greyborne… Prince to the Duchy of Greyhart.
It wasn't his name. Yet it was.
Allen forced a composed smile, playing the part instinctively. He accepted the tea, nodding lightly. "Thank you."
The butler set the tray down, speaking politely of trivial matters before excusing himself.
When silence returned, Allen realized something strange—he understood every word, every nuance, even though the language wasn't his. The prince's fragmented memories had stitched themselves into his mind, filling the gaps. Not whole. Not controllable. But enough.
He sat back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling, fragments of a life not his own pulsing in his skull. The confusion twisted in him, but exhaustion smothered it. He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes.
Then the pain struck again.
The world dissolved.
When he opened his eyes—he was back. In his car. The traffic signal had turned green. Horns blared as vehicles moved forward.
His hands gripped the wheel tightly. "What… the hell just happened?"
He drove home in silence, his mind in chaos. A bath calmed his nerves, dinner filled his stomach, but not his heart. Not his thoughts.
When he finally sank into his sofa, the memory of that palace returned. That sky. That name.
He closed his eyes and reached for it—deliberately this time.
And it answered.
The dizziness returned, then faded.
Allen opened his eyes once more—no, Leonard Greyborne did. Standing again in that palace chamber, with the same crimson sky beyond the window.
This time, Allen understood.
It wasn't a dream.
It wasn't an illusion.
It was power.
He steadied his breathing and turned his attention to the room. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with thick tomes and scrolls bound in leather. His fingers brushed across their spines until one volume caught his eye—its cover marked with the falcon sigil of Greyborne.
He carried it to the desk and opened it.
Pages of text, family records, and at the center—an intricate map inked in faded colors. Rivers, mountains, duchies, and kingdoms sprawled across parchment like veins of a living world.
Allen's heart pounded.
A new world. A new body. A new name.
The chapter of his old life had ended.
And this map was the first page of the next.