Kieran's POV
The fire hurt worse than I expected.
I screamed as fire ate through my clothes and found my skin. The crowd roared louder, drowning out my words. They loved this. They loved watching me burn.
"Death to the villain!" someone yelled.
"Burn the monster!" another voice added.
Monster. That's what they called me now. Not Kieran Ashford, the boy who learned magic at the Royal Academy. Not the son of General Victor Ashford. Not Elena's protective bigger brother. Just... monster.
Smoke filled my eyes. I coughed, tasting blood. Through the blur of tears and flames, I could see the stage where I stood—or tried to stand. The chains around my wrists bit into my skin as I fell to my knees.
This was it. This was how I died.
But I couldn't stop looking.
Across the street, my family's manor was burning too. Orange flames climbed up the walls like hungry animals. The place where I grew up. Where Elena used to chase me through the halls, laughing. Where Father taught me about respect and duty. All of it turning to ash.
"No," I whispered. "Please, no."
A figure stood in front of the house. Golden hair caught the firelight. Cassian Thorne. The kingdom's biggest hero. The Chosen One blessed by the goddess herself.
My best friend.
He wiped his sword clean on a cloth. Even from here, even through the smoke, I could see the red coloring the blade.
Adrian's blood.
My heart stopped beating for a second. Then it started again, too fast, too hard.
Adrian was dead.
My Adrian. The boy with the bright smile who made me feel like maybe I wasn't broken inside. The one who said he loved me even when everyone else started calling me scary. The one who promised we'd get through this together.
Cassian had killed him.
"Adrian!" I tried to scream his name, but flames swallowed the sound.
I remembered Adrian's last visit to my cell three days ago. They'd let him in for five minutes. His hands had been shaking when he held mine through the bars.
"I'll find proof," he'd said. "Proof that you didn't do any of those terrible things. I'll make them see the truth."
I'd told him to run. To leave the kingdom. To save himself.
He'd kissed me instead. "I'm not leaving you."
Now he was gone. Because he stayed. Because he tried to help me.
Another scream cut through the air. I knew that voice.
"Elena," I gasped.
My sister. My baby sister who wanted to be a healer. Who cried when she stepped on flowers by chance. Who was only nineteen years old.
The manor's roof fell. The screaming stopped.
I pulled against the chains so hard something in my shoulder broke. Pain shot down my arm. I didn't care. I had to get free. I had to save her. I had to— But I couldn't do anything. I was chained. Burning. Dying.
"Father!" I shouted. "Father, please!"
General Victor Ashford stood with the crowd. His face was stone. When our eyes met across the street, he looked away.
He'd spoken at my trial. His own son's trial.
"Kieran Ashford has brought shame upon our family," he'd said, voice hard as iron. "He consorted with dark magic. He struck innocent people. He betrayed the country. I have no son."
The words had hurt worse than pain.
"You were supposed to protect me," I whispered now, knowing he couldn't hear. Knowing he wouldn't care if he could. "You were my father."
Someone stepped up beside Cassian. Marcus Kane. My former party member. My friend since youth.
He'd been the one to witness against me at the trial. He'd told the court about the "evil magic" I practiced. About the "suspicious meetings" I went. About how I'd "always been jealous of Hero Cassian."
All lies.
But everyone believed Marcus. Why wouldn't they? Heroes didn't lie.
I watched Marcus count gold coins that Cassian gave him. Payment for betrayal. He smiled.
The fire grew higher. My vision started going dark at the edges. My body was shutting down. This was really happening. I was really dying.
Everyone I loved was dead or gone. My family destroyed. My name ruined. Everything I'd tried to protect, turned to ash.
And they were partying.
The crowd threw flowers at Cassian. They sang songs of heroism. Children sat on their parents' shoulders to watch the "evil villain" burn. It was like a party.
I'd found the truth, and this was my reward.
The hero system was crooked. High Priestess Lyanna wasn't serving the goddess—she was using divine power for her own ends. The "blessed heroes" were just props. The magic I practiced, the shadow magic they called evil, was the only thing that could reveal the lies.
So they killed me for it.
Through the pain and smoke, I felt something strange. A cold tingle in my chest, where my heart should be burning. The feeling spread through my body like ice water in my veins.
You shouldn't have found the truth, a voice whispered in my head. It sounded like Priestess Lyanna, but wrong somehow. Ancient. Hungry. You shouldn't have been strong enough to scare us.
I tried to speak, but my lips wouldn't move.
Don't worry, the voice continued, almost gentle. This isn't really the end. You'll understand soon enough.
What did that mean?
The world turned. The flames became faraway. The screaming crowd faded.
In my last moment of awareness, I thought: If I could do it all again, I would burn them all first. Every single one who did this. I would make them pay.
Then everything went black.
Except... I was still thinking. Still aware.
Darkness surrounded me, thick and absolute. I floated in nothing. Was this death?
Then light burst behind my eyes.
I gasped.
My lungs filled with air—clean air, not smoke.
Something soft pressed against my back. Not the hard base. Not burning wood.
I could feel my hands. They didn't hurt. The chains were gone.
What was happening?
Slowly, afraid of what I'd see, I opened my eyes.
Silk sheets. Morning sunlight. The carved wooden roof of my childhood bedroom.
The room I hadn't seen in ten years.
I sat up so fast my head spun. My hands—I looked at my hands. Young. Smooth. No scars from torture. No burns.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
On the wall, a calendar showed a date that made my blood freeze.
Three months before I joined the Royal Academy.
Ten years before my death.
I was fifteen years old again.