I awoke in a place that was neither home nor strange, but a mixture of both. My mind was still clouded with fragments of my past life, a life I could hardly remember. All I knew was that the world around me had shifted, and I was no longer the person I had once been. The sounds of distant rustling, the scent of hay and wood, the warmth of the sun filtering through a crack in the ceiling – it was all so unfamiliar.

I looked around, trying to make sense of the place. The walls were old, wooden planks that had long since weathered the storm of time. A few sparse furnishings were scattered about – a rough-hewn table, some chairs, a fireplace that hadn't been lit in ages. It smelled of dust and age, but there was also the faint scent of lavender, mingling with the stables' earthy fragrance.

A figure stood beside me, her features soft and kind. She was holding me close, and I instinctively recognized her. Ellana, my mother. But there was something about her that seemed different, distant. Her eyes, though warm, held a sadness I couldn't yet comprehend.

"Ellana?" I whispered, my voice weak, unsure.

She smiled, her lips trembling as she stroked my hair. "You're awake, my child. It's time to begin a new."

But what did she mean? Begin a new? I had no memories of this life before—only hazy recollections of a past that seemed like another lifetime. My mind was racing, trying to grasp the reality of my situation.

I looked around again. We were in a small room that seemed to be some kind of barn or stable. The sounds of animals—horses, maybe—muffled by the thick wooden walls. But what was even stranger was the silence that lay between us, like an invisible barrier I couldn't cross.

As I looked into her eyes, I saw a reflection of my confusion. "Where are we? What happened?"

Her hand tightened on mine, and her expression shifted. "We're far from the city now. The news has spread. You need to be careful, my child. The lord's death... it's not something we can escape easily."

The memory of the lord flashed before me. I had killed him. It was not out of malice, but out of sheer instinct. He had tried something with her, something dark, something I couldn't allow. But in doing so, I had doomed us both. The weight of my actions crushed me, and the enormity of what we had done sank in. We weren't just fugitives—we were marked.

"I don't know who I am anymore," I said quietly, more to myself than to her.

"You are my son," she replied, her voice firm yet filled with an ocean of sorrow. "You are Aelianus, the son of a noble family. Your destiny is not to be hidden in the shadows, but to rise above it."

Her words stirred something inside me—a flicker of recognition, like a distant memory trying to break free. But there was more she wasn't telling me. I could feel it in the way she avoided my gaze, the way her hands shook when she spoke.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the rush of emotions that flooded through me. A warrior's instinct had taken over me in that moment of crisis, but now that the battle was over, the truth of my life began to unravel.