"Only Agni shall remember your name. From now on everything you are, belongs to them." – The High Priest, about the members of the White Cloaks.

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The songs always said the world started with Dragonfire; it was only suitable that the world would be ended by the same method.

Death by Dragonfire is supposed to be painless, the flames are so potent that you're ashes before you can even feel fear. It was not. Hunter would know, having been burned alive along with many of his brothers and sisters in the futile defense of the Castle.

Agni blessed as Hunter was, his body and gear were resistant to fire.

This resulted in being the worst possible outcome when faced with a Dragon. Every piece of cloth he was wearing erupted in flames, the metal *melted* against his skin as his blood boiled and cooked his insides.

Hunter had died screaming.

Thus, being able to open his eyes was a surprise. An unwelcomed surprise. The echoes of pain run down his spine, his chest feels like it's gonna explode, and his throat closes as if full of smoke.

For a painfully long moment there Hunter can't breathe.

Then, the pain fades. His lungs are able to get some air and Hunter wheezes, his head feels way too light for it to be healthy and some strength slowly returns to his limbs the longer he inhales and exhales.

He's in his room. His old room, one he hadn't seen in almost ten years, the one located in the barricades instead on the palace's eastern wing. Hunter had not seen this room since before the death of King Alfor.

It's not possible for many reasons. Yet, here he is.

Alive. Uninjured. Out of harm's way.

Agni, all his limbs are still attached to his body! That most than anything convinces him that he has truly traveled back in time; hope blossoms across his ribs like yellow flowers and Hunter hates himself a little for it. But he can't help it.

It feels like a gift; a Gift from a Spirit.

Could it be a final blessing from Agni? A way to save the Empire from its tragic and slow decay into the bizarre existence it had ended as? Or perhaps it was Gift from Tui and La who couldn't possibly have stood by the suffering of all those innocents? Or perhaps the Wan Shi, enraged by the destruction the Dragon caused?

It's not like it matters, though.

Whoever had granted him this, Hunter is going to kneel in the temple, offer his thanks, and take the opportunity with both hands.

Knock, knock.

Hunter's head snaps to the door.

Anxiety burns inside his stomach, hot and bitter, as he takes a deep breath and prepares himself to see a face he had long put to rest. The first among a long list of mistakes: His squire, Arnold Becket.

Hunter's voice doesn't shake nor break, "Enter."

Arnold is young, barely fifteen. He's all big doe-like eyes, freckled cheeks, and too long limbs for his frame. He's still growing. In one life, he never did. But in this, Hunter will ensure he does.

"Captain, are you feeling alright?" He hesitates at the threshold, "You didn't join the rest of the Knights during this morning's training. Shall I call for a priest?"

Hunter grimaces as his inner clock points out its far past dawn, and yes, he failed to attend to his duties to his squad of White Cloaks. His first instinct is to curse, but then Hunter is forced to admit that if he wants to change things, staying as a simple knight is not going to cut it.

Meaning he's going to miss many more morning training in the future and he better get used to the idea.

"That's not necessary, Arnold." Hunter smiles and it feels weird, he's almost forgotten how to do it. "I'll be visiting the temple today. Help me with my armor, I'll be leaving as soon as possible."

Arnold's eyebrows arched high in his forehead, "Captain?!"

"I'm not sick," Hunter rolls his eyes, he appreciates the concern but it's very unnecessary. He's not injured anymore, the Spirits took care of that. "Now, stop gaping like a fool. You're the squire of a Knight, act like it."

"Y-Yes, sir!"

Wearing full armor for the temple was outrageous. Holding a weapon on Holy Ground was an insult to the Spirits and the Faith, something no sane man would dare to try for the repercussions to their family name and status in society.

This made the Temples a sanctuary for any and all individuals running away from their abusers. The Faith was made of mages you would be stupid to anger. A worse threat than the White Cloaks in some cases.

But Hunter needed to be in his armor and keep his sword with him if he wished to get a figure that would still fit the gear once the transformation was done. Gifts and powers were to be kept if Hunter was to save this country from crumbling like wet paper.

"Don't bother with the horses, I want to walk." Hunter says, marching forward without bothering to glance at the servants and other Knights. There's no time to lose, plus it's not even that far.

The barracks were in the outside circle of the castle and thus, the temple was a fifteen minutes walk at most.

Not entirely surprising considering the outside circle of the castle was actually the inner circle of the city, where the common folk lived, and obviously there was to be a temple near. You could not build an entire society around the Spirits and not have a place to commune with them.

Hunter takes his time to appreciate how full of life is the city, how much having a strong King on the throne affects the citizens, and how not being in war ensures there are more smiles than frowns. The lack of children and women crying is welcomed too.

*This* is why he's ready to do whatever it takes to protect this Kingdom. Not for the Crown Prince, not matter how much Hunter adores the man and considers him more of a brother than anything else, but for the people of Astahari.

The people he vowed to protect when he became a Knight.

"Welcome, Sword of Marmorra." A priest greets them with their usual deep and mysterious tones.

You can never tell if they're a woman or a man, their facial expressions covered by their hoods and veils. Dressed in soft blues and whites, they were figures to be revered in awe for their closeness to the Spirits.

Hunter startled a little at the sound of his title.

It's not like he forgot what people used to call him, not really. But once you're a Golden Guard, you're only that. Your past, your present, and your future. All of that is nothing but an empty canvas to be painted by the King.

Once upon a time, Hunter's name had been something different.

"The light of Agni may always shine over you, priest." Hunter returns the greeting, one first pressing against his pauldron, right above his heart. "I'm afraid this visit requires my sword to be at my side. I would also ask for a private room if it's possible?"

The priest hums, there's only one reason for him to keep his gear close. The private room is unusual as well, at least for the common folk. Together make a very clear picture.

"Of course, Sword of Marmorra." The priest moved to the side, "If you were to follow me?"

"After you," Hunter nods, turning his attention to his scowling squire. The poor boy looked like he had a headache from trying to comprehend what was going on.

Hunter chuckled, patting his head like would a golden retriever. "Everything is fine, Arnold. Here, hold my helmet. This shouldn't take too long."

"Captain!" Arnold blushed in mortification at being treated like a small child, yet he hold onto the helmet as if his life depended on it. "Please stop doing that. No one ever is going to take me seriously if you keep ruffling my hair like this! I even cut it short to discourage you!"

"Is that so?" Hunter hummed, smirking like a fox. "I actually like this better, long and curly hair gets trapped in the middle of the articulations in the gauntlets at time. You just make it easier for me, my adorable nephew."

Arnold blinked, a little taken aback.

Knights renounced to their family name, thus recognizing blood ties was uncommon. Especially when nepotism could be brought to the discussion. But Hunter had loved his sister, had mourned her when she passed. And this child, this precious child, was everything he had left from his older sister, Rena.

Was it such a sin to try and keep him close this time around?

It wasn't like it would matter much after this.

After all, the Fiance of the Second Prince couldn't possibly keep her rank as a Knight, now could she?

With a fierce determination burning inside his soul, Hunter turned on his heels and followed behind the priest. Entering the temple with his chin raised up, refusing to be ashamed of what he's about to do.