Everything was different, in his previous life, as a prince, everything had been grand and majestic, a tapestry of splendor woven with tradition and power. The streets of his kingdom were meticulously paved with smooth, polished stone, gleaming under the golden rays of the sun. Towering stone buildings adorned with intricate carvings and banners stretched high into the sky, each structure a testament to the kingdom's might and artistry.
The air was rich with the scent of lavender and roses, carried by a gentle breeze that whispered through the courtyards and gardens. Vendors called out in melodic tones, offering rare silks, enchanted trinkets, and delicacies that melted on the tongue.
Their means of transportation had been nothing short of regal. Proud horses, their manes braided with gold and silver threads, trotted gracefully, their golden armor glinting in the sunlight. They carried knights and nobles with an air of pride and purpose.
Above them, majestic dragons soared through the sky, their scales shimmering like molten metal, their roars echoing through the mountains as a reminder of the kingdom's strength. Each dragon was a symbol of power, loyalty, and the magical bond between the royal bloodline and the ancient creatures.
Here, however, the contrast was staggering. The streets were dirt paths riddled with potholes and littered with scraps of debris. The once-vivid scents of lavender and roses were replaced by the acrid smell of oil and smoke.
Instead of dragons, there were strange, boxy machines—vehicles that floated a few feet off the ground, humming softly as they glided along the streets. Their sleek metallic surfaces reflected the sunlight, but they lacked the soul-stirring majesty of a dragon's fiery wings.
The technology of this life was beyond Kairos's understanding. He watched the floating vehicles with a mix of curiosity and disdain. They were efficient, certainly, and perhaps even impressive to those who knew no better.
But to him, they felt cold, lifeless. In his old world, magic coursed through every aspect of life, binding everything together in a living, breathing harmony. Here, the hum of machinery and the flicker of artificial lights felt sterile, as if this new world had traded its soul for convenience.
As he walked aimlessly, lost in thought, he heard a familiar voice call out behind him.
"Kairos!"
The sound jarred him from his reverie, and he turned to see his father, Damien, walking toward him. Damien was a tall man with broad shoulders and rough hands that spoke of years of toil. His face was weathered, lines etched deeply into his skin, but his eyes held a quiet warmth that softened his rugged appearance.
"Where are you going, son?" Damien asked, his voice gentle yet tinged with concern.
Kairos shrugged, avoiding his father's gaze. "I don't know. I just... wanted to leave the house."
Damien studied him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, stepping closer and placing a firm yet comforting hand on Kairos's shoulder. "I see," he said softly. He hesitated before adding, "It's not easy, is it? Being back home after... everything."
Kairos didn't respond, his jaw tightening as he stared at the ground.
Damien gave him a small, knowing smile. "Come. Let's go to your favorite place. You always said it was the one spot that made you feel at peace."
Kairos frowned, glancing up at him. "Favorite place?" he repeated, his tone skeptical.
"You'll see," Damien replied, motioning for him to follow.
Reluctantly, Kairos fell into step beside his father. They walked in silence, the bustling sounds of the town fading as they moved further down a narrow path. The air grew quieter, interrupted only by the occasional chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves.
"You used to love it here," Damien said after a while, gesturing to the path ahead. "Whenever things got tough, this was where you'd go. It was like your little sanctuary."
Kairos raised an eyebrow. "I don't remember."
Damien chuckled softly. "Maybe you've forgotten, but your feet always knew the way."
Eventually, they arrived at a garden nestled in the outskirts of the neighborhood. It was a small haven, surrounded by tall trees that formed a natural barrier against the outside world. The garden was lush and vibrant, with flowers in every color imaginable blooming in neat arrangements. A small stream trickled through the middle, its crystal-clear water glinting in the sunlight. Butterflies flitted between the flowers, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of blossoms.
Damien stopped and spread his arms. "Here it is. Still beautiful, isn't it?"
Kairos frowned as he took in the scene.The colors were almost too bright, too cheerful for his dark mood, almost overwhelming, and the cheerfulness of the place felt like a mockery of his current state. "No," he said flatly. "It's too colorful."
Damien blinked, visibly taken aback by the response. "Oh," he said after a moment, his voice tinged with disappointment. "I see."
He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Well, I guess you're not exactly in the mood for... colors," he muttered.
Kairos sighed, crossing his arms. "Why did you bring me here, Father?"
Damien sat on a large, smooth stone near the stream and patted the space beside him. "Come here, Kairos."
With a reluctant shuffle, Kairos sat down.
Damien clasped his hands together, leaning forward slightly. "Kairos," he began softly, his tone laden with concern.
"I know this... this has been a nightmare for you. Losing your energy core, feeling like the world's turned against you, it's more than anyone should have to bear. And honestly, I can't even pretend to fully understand. I've never had one, so I don't know what it's like to lose it. But I can see how much this has been eating at you, son. And seeing Reo every day… reminding you of what you've lost. I'm sorry for that, too."
Kairos didn't respond. His fists clenched in his lap, his jaw tightening.
Damien's voice dropped even lower. "You don't have to say anything. Just... hear me out, okay? It's okay to feel angry. It's okay to feel like the world's unfair, because it is sometimes. But shutting us out won't help. Don't shut me out, Kairos. You're not in this alone. You've still got me, your mother, your family."
Kairos's gaze flicked up to meet his father's, his expression hard to read. After a moment, he gave the smallest of nods but said nothing.
Damien smiled faintly, though the sadness in his eyes remained. "You know," he continued, "when you were younger, you'd always come here when things got tough. You said it made you feel calm, like you could breathe. Do you remember that?"
Kairos shook his head. "Not really," he muttered.
"Well," Damien said with a shrug, "it's still your place. No matter how much time passes or how things change, this little spot... it's yours."
Kairos let his eyes wander over the garden, taking in the vibrant flowers and the gentle stream. It was beautiful, but the sight didn't bring him any peace. "It's still too colorful," he muttered, his voice tinged with irritation.
Damien chuckled softly, though it carried a hint of unease. "Too colorful? I thought you liked it here.Well, I guess I can't argue with your taste."
Kairos turned back to him, his face impassive. "This place doesn't fix anything. It doesn't change anything."
Damien sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're right. It doesn't fix anything. But... I thought maybe it'd remind you that not everything's lost. That you still have something, people who care about you, places that matter. Even if it doesn't feel that way now."
Kairos said nothing, his eyes drifting back to the stream.
Damien reached into the sack slung over his shoulder. "I got you something," he said, his tone a little brighter. "It's not much, but... I thought you might like it."
Kairos glanced at him skeptically as Damien pulled out a long object wrapped in cloth. He unwrapped it with care, revealing a simple but finely crafted sword. The blade shimmered faintly in the sunlight, and the hilt, wrapped in dark leather, felt sturdy and reliable.
"I saw this on my way home and thought of you," Damien said, holding it out to him.
Kairos hesitated, his fingers twitching before he reached out and took the sword. He ran his fingers along the blade, testing its weight and balance. It wasn't enchanted or ornate like the swords he had wielded in his past life, but there was something comforting about its simplicity.
"It's... good," Kairos murmured after a long moment, his voice quiet. "Thank you."
Damien's face lit up with relief. "I'm glad you like it, son."
Kairos studied the weapon for a moment longer, then looked up at his father. "Why are you trying so hard?" he asked suddenly.
Damien blinked, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"
"You're apologizing, trying to make me feel better, giving me things... Why?"
Damien's smile faded slightly, replaced by a solemn expression. "Because you're my son, Kairos. And I know I haven't always been the best father. Maybe I've failed you in ways I don't even realize. But I'm trying now because I don't want you to feel like you're alone in this."
Kairos stared at him, his grip on the sword tightening. "Even if I'm broken?"
"You're not broken," Damien said firmly, placing a hand on Kairos's shoulder. "You're hurt, and you've lost something precious. But broken? Never. You're stronger than you know, Kairos. And if you ever doubt that, just remember this: you're still here. You're still standing. That's strength."
Kairos looked away, his throat tightening. He couldn't bring himself to say it, but deep down, he felt a flicker of something—gratitude.
Damien smiled softly, patting his shoulder. "We'll get through this, son. Together."
For the first time in what felt like ages, Kairos allowed himself a small smile as he stared at the sword in his hands. It wasn't much, but it was something. A start.