The memories unraveled like an ancient reel of film. House Aurelius was among the oldest of the Golds, its lineage tracing back to the Conquering. They were warriors, leaders, architects of the Society's brutal perfection. Their ancestral seat, this castle, stood in the Iron Peaks of Mars, overlooking vast, terraformed plains.
The Aurelius name carried weight, not just on Mars but throughout the Core. They were feared and revered, known for their unyielding strength and brilliance in battle. But for all their prestige, their bloodline had thinned. Caius was the last true heir. His parents—my parents—had died when he was barely twelve, leaving him under the guardianship of his grandfather, Horatio au Aurelius.
Horatio was a relic of a bygone era, his body frail but his mind sharp as a razor. He had been a friend to Lorn au Arcos, the legendary Iron Gold, and carried with him the same stern, unflinching honor. The two had fought together during the a period of numerous Iron Rains, shaping the Society into what it was now.
Through Caius' memories, I saw Horatio as both a mentor and a taskmaster. He had trained Caius relentlessly, shaping him into the leader House Aurelius needed. But now, I was Caius. And Horatio would soon expect me to lead this house, to uphold its legacy.
I staggered back to the bed, clutching my head. My mind raced. This wasn't just some bizarre dream or simulation. I was in the world of Red Rising.
The pieces clicked together. The architecture, the razor on the bedside table, the faint hum of gravity manipulators in the air—it all screamed Gold society. I was in the universe of Darrow, the Reaper. A universe of oppression, violence, and rebellion.
I felt a cold sweat break across my brow. I knew what was coming. In two years, the Rising would begin. The Institute, the battlefields, the betrayals—it would all unfold, and I was now a part of it.
The thought made my stomach churn. I wasn't just another bystander or some lowColor trying to survive. I was a Gold. I was part of the enemy. And worse, I was the head of a house whose name carried enough weight to crush entire cities.
For a moment, the enormity of it all threatened to suffocate me. But then a flicker of determination sparked within me. If I was here, in this body, then I had a choice.
I could let history play out as it had in the books, or I could change it.
I spent the next few hours exploring the castle, both physically and through the fragments of Caius' memories.
The fortress was carved into the cliffs of the Iron Peaks, a range of jagged mountains that pierced the Martian sky. Its walls were hewn from ancient stone, reinforced with the advanced alloys of the Golds. The interior was a blend of old-world grandeur and futuristic elegance: marble floors, golden arches, and holographic displays seamlessly integrated into the architecture.
The castle wasn't just a home; it was a statement. A symbol of House Aurelius' power and legacy. It housed a vast armory, a war room with holographic projections of Mars' surface, and a library filled with ancient texts and records from the Conquering era.
From the balcony of Caius' chambers, I could see the expanse of his lands. The Iron Peaks stretched to the horizon, their slopes dotted with the estates of vassal families sworn to House Aurelius. Beyond them lay the terraformed plains, where the faint green of crops contrasted sharply with Mars' red soil.
But for all its beauty, the castle felt like a prison. Its grandeur was a constant reminder of the weight I now carried.