Damien's nostrils filled with scents of damp earth, wood burning into embers. He gasped awake. His lungs stretched like they hadn't in years, and his heart was pounding to get out of his chest. Panic hit him as he sat upright, hands gripping the silken sheets beneath him. For a moment, he thought he was still on fire, the flames licking at his skin as the pyre beneath him roared higher.
But there was no fire. No crowd jeering. No Kael Althorne gripping the sword of justice with his grim face. Instead, Damien found himself in a familiar room—a room he hadn't seen in more than a year.
His private quarters.
He blinked, foggy-minded. The soft crackle of the fireplace soothed his wildly racing heart, yet nothing he could see made any sense. The last thing he recalled was dying—agonizing, humiliating death at the hands of the very people he had tormented.
The betrayal still stung.
He looked down at his hands slowly. They were not crooked or scarred from the fire. His skin was smooth, unmarred, like it had been… before.
"Impossible," he whispered, his voice rough from disuse.
He fumbled his way out of the bed, his bare feet slapping the chilly stone floor. He crossed over to the great mirror on the far side of the room and gazed at his reflection. The man in the glass was younger, sharper, and very much alive. His dark hair, always impeccably combed, was tousled from sleep, and his steel-gray eyes were wide with shock.
"No…" His hand trembled as he touched the mirror. "This can't be real."
It took a moment for the weight of realization to crush him.
He wasn't dead. Somehow, he was alive—back in his prime, in the year before his execution.
His knees buckled, and he collapsed into a chair sitting nearby. Memories of his past life came flooding back. The endless atrocities he had committed, the lives he had ruined, and the terrifying loneliness of his final days.
And then there was Serena Aldain, the noblewoman he had forced into marriage. Her terrified eyes haunted him even now. He had thought possessing her would fill the void in his soul, but instead, it had only hastened his downfall.
Kael's face was the last thing he remembered before darkness had consumed him. The original male lead, as they called him, had killed Damien in front of thousands. A perfect end to a villain.
But now… he had a second chance.
---
The knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts. "Your Grace?" came a familiar voice- his steward, Mathias.
Damien hesitated. This was his first test. He couldn't let Mathias suspect that anything was amiss. "Enter," he called, his voice steadier than he felt.
The door creaked open, and Mathias, a middle-aged man with a stern face and neatly trimmed beard, stepped inside. "Good morning, Your Grace. You asked to be woken early today."
"Did I?" Damien furrowed his brow. He was desperately trying to work his memory for what had happened today in his other life.
"Yes, Your Grace," replied Mathias. "You intended to spend this afternoon at the Aldain estate in order to make the final determination regarding your betrothal to Lady Serena's family."
Damien's stomach twisted. The Aldain estate. He knew the place. To be honest, he did remember starting his search from there, which eventually decided his fate.
For a second, he thought about canceling the visit altogether. No way. He couldn't draw suspicion. He needed to strategize carefully for his next move.
"Very well," Damien said, standing. He nodded toward the wardrobe. "Have the servants get out my traveling clothes. I will depart within the hour."
Mathias bowed. "As you will, Your Grace."
As the steward disappeared, Damien's mind went into overdrive. Going to the Aldain estate meant running into Serena, the woman who had every right to despise him. He'd have to tread carefully, but it also gave him a chance to make amends-or at least start to unscrew some of what he'd done.
It was high sun by the time Damien's carriage reached the Aldain estate. Golden rays danced across the broad manor and groomed gardens while a crispness showed just a hint of lavender in the scent.
Lord Aldain, Serena's father, stood in the doorway as Damien left his carriage, portly in girth and smiling genially. His eyes, however, never seemed to quite meet.
"Duke Vryce," Lord Aldain said, bowing slightly. "It is always an honor to host you."
"The honor is mine," Damien replied smoothly, though his stomach churned with unease.
He followed Lord Aldain into the grand hall, where Serena awaited them. She was as beautiful as he remembered—her auburn hair cascading over her shoulders and her emerald-green eyes gleaming with intelligence and caution.
"Your Grace," she said, curtsying.
His voice was soft as he replied, "Lady Serena". Looking upon her now, without the cloud of his actions that had overshadowed his judgement, he felt a pang of guilt. She deserved far better than the fate he'd made of her.
The meeting went on much as Damien thought it would - quiet conversations and discussions regarding alliances. Damien played along - nodded and smiled when appropriate - but his mind was elsewhere.
When the chance came, he requested a word with Serena alone.
She looked at her father hesitantly, to which the gentleman merely nodded in approval. "Very well," she said, her voice warily.
They stepped out onto the balcony into the coolness where the breeze rustled her dress.
"Lady Serena," Damien started, "I must apologize."
She blinked, clearly stunned. "Apologize? For what, Your Grace?"
"For…" He hesitated, selecting his words carefully. "For the way I have carried myself in the past. I believe I may have been. overbearing at times."
Serena gazed at him, her eyes narrowing in consideration. "That is… surprising," she said after a moment. "You are not exactly known for making apologies, Your Grace."
Damien laughed humorlessly, though there was no amusement in the sound. "Perhaps it is time for that to change.
She tilted her head, suspicion flickering across her face. "What brought about this sudden transformation?"
Damien hesitated, unsure how much he could reveal. "Let us say that recent events have given me a new perspective on life."
Serena said nothing, but the tension in her shoulders seemed to ease slightly. It wasn't forgiveness—not yet—but it was a start.
---
With darkness closing in, Damien boarded his carriage, his thoughts racing with schemes. The meeting had been much better than he had anticipated, yet the work was only half done.
Only just starting to make amends for sins committed, the path before him was long and difficult. But at last, perhaps for the first time in years, perhaps ever, Damien felt a spark of hope.
He gazed out the carriage window as the sun set through the dust on the winding road.
"At last," he whispered to himself, "all will be well."
Down in the darkness, which hidden from Damien's sight lined the way, a pair of eyes observed and watched with mischief.