The air in the darkened chamber was thick with tension as William paced slowly, his mind racing. He had left Alice resting in another room, giving her the time she needed to recover from the ordeal. She was still adjusting to the power she had been forced to accept, and William's own concerns over her well-being weighed heavily on his mind. Yet there was something far more pressing that had not yet left him.
Lazaro.
The ancient sorcerer had been an enigma, his motives unclear, his true intentions impossible to decipher. But there was one question that gnawed at William with an urgency he could no longer ignore: Why did Lazaro know him? In this life, they were strangers. They had only just met in this world, yet the sorcerer had known his name, had treated him as if they shared a past.
And William, for all his strength, could not shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. There was a connection between him and Lazaro that extended far beyond this life—something that even he, with all his memories of past lives, could not fully grasp.
The chamber where Lazaro resided was unlike any William had ever seen. It was a place of shadows, filled with ancient relics, arcane symbols, and dim, flickering lights. The air was charged with the raw energy of magic—old magic that hummed in the walls, in the floor, in the very air they breathed. It was a place where time seemed to bend, where the line between the living and the dead was thinner than in the mortal world.
William stopped pacing and turned toward Lazaro, who stood at the far end of the room, his back to him as he gazed into an intricate mirror, its surface swirling with dark images.
"You knew me before, didn't you?" William's voice cut through the silence like a knife. He was not asking, not anymore. The question had been burning within him since their first meeting, and now he had to hear the truth. "You knew me when I was... someone else."
Lazaro didn't turn around immediately. Instead, he remained fixated on the mirror, his fingers tracing the surface of it as if it were an ancient artifact. He was quiet for a long while, allowing the weight of William's words to sink into the room. Finally, he spoke, his voice low, almost absent.
"Ah, yes. You remember."
"I do," William said firmly. "But you're not supposed to. This life is new for both of us. You—" He hesitated, trying to find the right words. "You shouldn't know me."
Lazaro finally turned, his eyes meeting William's with a knowing glint that seemed both curious and dangerous. "I was not always the man you see before you, William. In fact, I have known many lives, many faces. It is part of my work. My... curse."
William's brows furrowed, his suspicion deepening. "A curse?"
Lazaro nodded, his eyes distant. "Yes. In some ways, my existence is bound to the very fabric of time and memory. It is not simply that I know you, William. I have always known you—across countless lifetimes. It is the price I pay for the knowledge I seek. The knowledge that you will one day come to understand, whether you want to or not."
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" William's voice was sharp, frustration creeping into his tone. "Why pretend to be a stranger?"
Lazaro's lips curled into a faint, sad smile. "Because, my dear boy, you were not ready. You had not yet awakened. But now... now the time has come. The thread between us, between the past and the present, is drawing tight."
William narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"
Lazaro took a step forward, his gaze never leaving William's. "In your past life, you fought many battles, William. You tore down dark fortresses and battled dark mages. But you never saw the true extent of the forces you were up against. You destroyed their physical bodies, yes. But their true goal—what they were truly after—remained hidden."
The revelation hit William like a punch to the gut. "What goal?"
"The resurrection of what should not be." Lazaro's voice lowered, his words almost a whisper. "The dark magic you encountered, the rituals you disrupted... They were not mere experiments or random acts of violence. They were sacrifices. Blood was not just spilled—it was offered. And those sacrifices were meant to open a door."
William's breath caught in his throat as he connected the dots. "A door? What are they trying to resurrect?"
Lazaro's gaze darkened, his expression solemn. "The gods of darkness. The primordial beings, older than any vampire, older than the wolves themselves. Beings that were cast out long ago, before the world as we know it even began to take form. They have been searching for a way back into this world, through the rituals you so often interrupted. They are waiting for the right moment to return, and every sacrifice—every life spilled—is a step toward that moment."
William's mind reeled with the implications of Lazaro's words. "I thought the dark magic was just a power struggle among mages. A means to control the mortal world."
Lazaro shook his head, a grim smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "That is how they want you to think, William. It is far deeper than that. These dark mages... they are not simply power-hungry. They are agents of a far older force. They serve the gods of shadow, the ones who slumber beneath the earth, beneath the fabric of time itself."
William's hands clenched into fists, his nails biting into his palms. "And you... you've been working with them?"
Lazaro's gaze flickered with something close to sorrow, but his voice remained steady. "I have not worked with them. I have worked against them. In every life, I have been a part of this struggle, just as you have. But I am not the hero, William. You are."
William's head spun with the weight of it all. The truth was coming at him in overwhelming waves. Every battle, every enemy, every shadow he had faced in his past life—it was all connected. The dark magic. The rituals. And now, Alice was caught in the crossfire.
But there was one more question left to ask, one question that burned through him like a wildfire.
"If you knew all this... why didn't you warn me? Why didn't you tell me that I was stopping them from awakening their gods? That this was what they wanted all along?"
Lazaro took a slow, deliberate breath, his gaze not leaving William's. "Because you were not ready to hear it. In your past life, you were blinded by your hatred for them. You destroyed their strongholds, yes. But you did not understand what you were truly fighting for. You did not see the greater picture."
William clenched his jaw, trying to process the weight of Lazaro's words. "And now I'm supposed to fight them again?"
Lazaro's gaze was cold but understanding. "Yes. But you will not fight them alone. This time, you have Alice. You have the power she now wields. You must teach her to control it. You must use her strength, and your own, to stop the resurrection."
William took a deep, shaky breath. His mind was racing with plans, with possibilities. The gravity of the situation was too much to process at once. And yet, there was no turning back now. The battle that had only been whispered about in the shadows of his past was now upon him in full force.
"We need to stop them, Lazaro," William said, his voice steely with resolve. "We need to find a way to end this. Before they tear the world apart."
Lazaro nodded solemnly. "The clock is ticking, William. And every step you take from now on will bring you closer to either salvation or ruin."
William didn't flinch. "I'll make sure it's salvation."
Fate loves to play tricks on people. For Alice, he gave up revenge and stayed away from the struggle for power, but because of her, he had to step into the war again.