Ash walked aimlessly through the misty streets of the Old Quarter. His eyes were red. His shoulders sagged under the weight of rejection—not from strangers, but from the people he loved most.
"You're not my son... you killed him."
His father's voice still echoed in his skull.
He stumbled onto a broken bench near an old bookstore. No one was around. The only sound was the distant ticking of a rusted street clock.
"You're not lost," a voice said.
Soft. Calming. But ancient.
Ash looked up.
She stood under a cracked archway, a long dark coat flowing in the breeze. Her eyes glowed faintly gold—not unnaturally, but with something beyond age. Her silver hair was tied loosely, and the rain hadn't touched her.
Ash blinked. "Do I know you?"
"No. But I've known you for many lives," she said.
He stood cautiously. "Are you... one of them? Another enemy?"
"No."
She stepped closer, her boots silent on the wet stone.
"I am Elira. And I came to meet the boy who cries with the heart of a prince."
Ash froze. His chest tightened.
"How do you know...?"
"You remember parts of your past, yes?" Elira said gently. "The sword. The silence. The feeling that the world was once smaller than your hands. You remember dying to protect them... but this world punishes you for surviving."
Ash's hands clenched. "I don't want that past. I didn't choose this..."
"No soul chooses its rebirth. Not even a prince," Elira said.
He looked at her, his eyes filled with doubt and pain. "If I was that prince... why does everyone hate me?"
Elira looked up at the broken moonlight slicing through the clouds.
"Because the world forgets. It remembers pain but not sacrifice. It honors names, not souls. And because some truths... are too heavy to carry."
Ash sat back on the bench, silent. For the first time since the rooftop, his breathing slowed.
Elira walked over and sat beside him—just close enough for warmth, not control.
"Tell me, Ash. Do you want to remember... everything?" she asked.
Ash hesitated. "Will it help?"
"No. But it will make you whole."
The silence stretched.
Then, slowly, Ash nodded.
"Then show me."
Rain kissed the earth softly as the night deepened, but inside the silence of the ruined shrine, time had stopped.
Ash lay still on the ground, unconscious, his breath shallow. Elira sat beside him, her long silver hair swaying gently in the mystic breeze that only she could feel. With one hand trembling over his heart, and the other pressed to his forehead, her voice softened to a whisper.
"Sleep, Ash... and awaken, Kalen Volrik."
Suddenly, the world around them dissolved. The sound of rain vanished. Trees blurred into streaks of light, and the cold, broken floor beneath them turned to warmth. Ash's body floated, as if drawn into the heavens, his soul detaching from the weight of the present.
A vast darkness unfolded around him, lit only by glowing stars. Within that void… a memory stirred.
The Kingdom of Aurestra
Twin suns lit the skies of a golden realm. Beneath the brilliant heavens stood a city carved from crystal and steel — tall spires shimmering with runes and banners waving black and silver.
Ash stood there, but he was different.
Long white hair cascaded behind him. His eyes gleamed with silver authority. His back bore the mark of the Celestial Flame — proof of royalty. He was no longer Ash.
He was Prince Kalen Volrik.
He stood at the balcony of a tall palace, his people gathered below him. At his side knelt a younger Elira, armored in violet and steel, her face lined with worry.
"You must not trust the council," she said, her voice still the same as now. "They fear your compassion, Your Highness."
Kalen looked out over the city — his city — and smiled faintly.
"Then let them fear. If mercy is weakness, I will carry it to my grave."
The memory shifted.
The Fields of Smoke
A battlefield.
The air reeked of burning blood and ash. Soldiers lay strewn across the red soil. Kalen knelt, coughing blood, his white armor shattered and soaked.
Before him stood his once-trusted general, his blade dripping with royal blood.
"You were too kind, Kalen," the general sneered. "This world needs fire, not forgiveness."
"And yet," Kalen whispered, barely able to breathe, "it was love, not fire, that built this kingdom…"
A scream echoed — Elira's — as she struggled against magical chains, unable to reach him.
"If my death brings peace…" Kalen murmured, "then… let my soul be free…"
Darkness took him.
Return to the Present
Ash gasped awake, falling to his knees in the star-lit void.
Tears streamed down his face.
"I was… him… I was Kalen…"
Elira stood beside him, her expression soft but sorrowful. She had seen this moment before — in every timeline, in every memory. The pain. The awakening. The clarity.
"You were born again in this world with your pain sealed away," she said gently. "But that pain never left. It shaped your soul. The world remembers, even if you do not. That's why it feared you. That's why it turned on you."
Ash's hands clenched into fists. His voice trembled.
"Everyone thinks I killed Ash… but… I am Ash. And I was Kalen. I still am."
Elira nodded.
"You are not just the prince of the past, but the heart of the present. You are not Kalen. You are not Ash. You are both. You are more."
Ash rose slowly, his eyes no longer clouded with doubt — but with purpose.
"Then I'll show them. I'll show Rei. I'll show everyone… that I'm still me."
The void between stars still shimmered faintly. Ash stood silently, the fragments of Kalen's memories still burning like sacred fire in his mind. Every breath he took felt heavier, burdened with a thousand years of sorrow.
Behind him, Elira stepped forward. Her presence—gentle, ethereal—carried the weight of a story left untold.
He turned to face her. "You knew. You knew who I was all along, didn't you?"
Elira didn't answer immediately. She knelt on the starlit ground, her hands resting in her lap, eyes cast downward. For the first time, Ash noticed the faint rune glowing across her collarbone, a crest shaped like a falling feather caught in flame.
"I didn't just know, Ash," she whispered. "I was there."
Ash's heart skipped.
She looked up, her eyes now brimming with emotion, her voice trembling between resolve and regret.
"I was born in the royal citadel of Aurestra. My mother was a high priestess. My father… was the Commander of the Celestial Guard. I was trained not to serve, but to protect one soul—yours."
"Me?" Ash murmured.
"Prince Kalen Volrik," she said with a bittersweet smile. "You were different from every ruler. Kind. Brave. Foolish sometimes… but gentle. I admired you. I hated you. I loved you."
Her voice caught at the last word, fragile and bare. She continued despite the tremble.
"They called me the Shield of the Crown. But I was more. You made me more."
The stars above flickered softly, responding to her confession. In the void between timelines, truth echoed louder than fate.
Ash stepped closer, still absorbing it all.
"So you were by my side... until the end."
She nodded.
"I tried to stop the betrayal. I fought until my blade shattered. I screamed your name as they dragged me away from your dying body. I couldn't save you. That failure… it stayed with me."
Her fingers curled.
"And then I was reborn—again and again. In different timelines. Different lives. But the memory of you always returned. Like a scar across my soul."
Ash's throat tightened. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"
Elira met his gaze, voice now calm but deep.
"Because this version of you deserved a chance to live without that pain. Without the weight of destiny. But fate... doesn't let go easily. And now that the truth is free—so are you."
Ash turned away, his voice cracking.
"Everyone hates me now. My parents. My friends. Even Rei...
"They don't understand yet," Elira said gently, stepping beside him. "But they will. And even if they never do... I do. I always will."
He looked at her, searching her eyes for lies. But all he found was warmth—and history.
"Elira… I don't know what I'm supposed to be anymore."
"You don't need to be a prince. Or a hero. Or even Ash," she said, reaching for his hand. "Just be the one who chooses who you'll become. I'll be by your side. Like I was before."
Their hands met—past and present reuniting.
And in the star-lit silence, for the first time in ages, Ash—Kalen—felt something close to peace.