Darkness.
It was all Shade could see, stretching endlessly in every direction. Weightless and formless, he floated in a sea of nothingness. He had been in tight corners before—infiltrating blacked-out fortresses, hiding in pitch-black alleys. But this was different. It wasn't just the absence of light, it was the absence of everything.
He wasn't supposed to be here.
His last mission had gone sideways in the worst way. Ambushed. Betrayed. He had fought like a cornered beast, taking as many of them down as he could. But even the best assassin in the world couldn't dodge bullets forever. He could still feel the burn of the last shot, the one that tore through his chest.
"Survive at all costs," he had whispered, even as blood filled his lungs.
But survival wasn't an option. Not then.
And yet…
A faint tug pulled at him, breaking the void's oppressive stillness. At first, it was barely noticeable, like the brush of a breeze. Then it grew stronger, dragging him toward a pinprick of light far in the distance.
What the hell is happening?
The light swallowed him whole.
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The first thing he felt was cold. A deep, bone-chilling cold that prickled across his skin. His lungs heaved, drawing in a sharp breath, and his ears filled with sound—chaotic, muffled voices overlapping each other.
"Push, my lady! One more time!"
"Milord, she's losing strength!"
"Focus, Aeliana. Focus. You're stronger than this."
The voices sharpened, but none of them made sense. Shade blinked, his vision blurred, his body sluggish and alien.
He was being held, cradled. His head lolled to the side, and his gaze fell on a woman lying on a grand canopy bed, her golden hair plastered to her sweat-slicked face. Her chest rose and fell with labored breaths, and her hands trembled as she reached out weakly.
"That's him," she murmured, her voice faint but filled with an unshakable warmth. "My son…"
Son?
Shade's confusion deepened. He tried to move, to speak, but the only sound he managed was a weak cry—a high-pitched, infant wail that echoed in the chamber.
He wasn't just being held. He was a newborn.
"Strong lungs," a midwife said, relief evident in her tone. "He'll be fine, my lady."
Another figure stepped into view, his features sharp and regal. The man's piercing gaze flickered from the woman to the crying infant in the midwife's arms. His expression was unreadable, though Shade—no, the child—felt the weight of expectation radiating from him.
"Zephyr Aurion," the man said at last, his voice low and commanding. "You will be the strength of this house."
Zephyr Aurion?
The words made no sense, but as the man spoke them, Shade felt something stir deep within—a wave of foreign emotions and fragmented memories crashing into him like a tidal wave. They weren't his memories, yet they tangled with his own, impossible to ignore.
Familiar names. Places. Events. They floated to the surface of his mind, blurry at first, then sharpening with painful clarity.
Zephyr Aurion… Where have I heard that name before?
He struggled to focus, his infant body too weak to do much more than stare at the man's sharp features. Lord Valen Aurion. That name struck a chord, sparking recognition buried deep in his assassin's mind. Pieces fell into place with a cold inevitability.
Something about the name Valen Aurion sent a jolt through Shade's fogged mind. It wasn't a memory of his own, but of a story. Fragments of a tale he had consumed once, in the rare moments he allowed himself a break from the constant grind of missions and survival.
And then, it clicked.
Blades of Eternity.
The realization struck him like a blade to the chest. Zephyr Aurion wasn't just any name. It was the name of a character from a popular fantasy novel he had read. A minor character. A villain.
No, less than a villain. Zephyr Aurion was a joke—a pampered, arrogant noble who thought his family's wealth and reputation would shield him from consequence. He was mocked for being born with too many elements, a freak who couldn't control his powers. His inevitable downfall was a critical turning point in the story, paving the way for the protagonist, Caelan Althir, to shine as the hero who overcame adversity.
Zephyr's role in the story was to fail.
The wave of fragmented memories surged again, this time more insistent. Shade saw flashes of scenes from the novel: Zephyr challenging Caelan in the royal court and being humiliated when he lost control of his powers. Zephyr aligning himself with a faction that ultimately betrayed him. Zephyr meeting his end—disgraced, abandoned, and defeated.
This was the life he had been thrown into. A life with no future.
Why me?
The thought pulsed in Shade's mind like a mantra, a steady beat beneath the chaos. He wasn't religious, but this felt too deliberate to be random. A second chance? A punishment? A cruel joke? He had lived as a killer, cutting down targets without remorse, surviving in a world that thrived on blood and betrayal. And now he was here, in the fragile body of a boy destined to die young.
He forced himself to focus. Shade—or Zephyr—wasn't the type to sit in self-pity. What mattered now was understanding.
Shade's gaze drifted to the woman lying on the canopy bed. She was pale and weak, her Silver hair plastered to her damp skin, but her expression was soft with relief. Her trembling hand reached out, as if she wanted to touch him but didn't have the strength.
"My son…" she murmured, her voice faint but full of warmth. "Zephyr Aurion."
For a moment, something deep inside him twisted. Shade—whose life had been devoid of love, family, or any meaningful connection—felt an unfamiliar pang. It wasn't his emotion. It belonged to the body he now inhabited.
Zephyr had loved her.
Before Shade could untangle the feeling, the man—Lord Valen—stepped closer, his presence towering. Where the woman's gaze was filled with warmth, his was filled with expectation.
"You will be the strength of this house," Valen said, his tone firm, almost commanding.
Shade's assassin instincts flared, cataloging every detail of the man: the rigid posture, the hard set of his jaw, the slight narrowing of his eyes. This was a man who valued power above all else, someone who demanded results and discarded failures.
Strength of the house? Shade thought bitterly. He doesn't know what's coming.
The memories from the novel flooded back in sharper focus now. Valen Aurion was one of the most powerful nobles in the kingdom, but his cold ambition made him blind to his youngest son's struggles. When Zephyr began to spiral out of control, Valen dismissed him as a lost cause, focusing his attention on his more "promising" children.
Shade glanced back at the woman—Lady Aeliana, the only person who had shown Zephyr kindness in the novel. Her early death from illness had been one of the first tragedies in Zephyr's life. After her passing, the boy's descent into ruin had been swift and merciless.
But that doesn't have to happen.
The thought was like a spark in the darkness.
Shade's thoughts began to shift, his assassin's instincts taking over. His situation wasn't just a trap. It was an opportunity.
Zephyr Aurion's fate might have been set in the novel, but Shade didn't believe in fate. In his old life, he had carved out his survival in a world where every day was a fight to the death. No matter the odds, he had lived by one rule: Adapt, or die.
He could do the same here.
Yes, Zephyr Aurion was a cursed child, born with five elements he couldn't control. But Shade wasn't Zephyr Aurion. He was the top assassin in the modern world, a master of focus and discipline. If magic was just another tool, he would learn to wield it.
And the world? The people who looked down on him? The so-called hero who was meant to overshadow him?
I'll show them all.
The thought sent a rush of determination through him. The memories of his assassin life—years of training, of mastering his body and mind—flooded back with sharp clarity. He had learned to tame chaos before. He could do it again.
The whispers of the servants, the cold stares of his father, the pity in his mother's eyes—they didn't matter.
This wasn't just a second life. This was his mission.
As the midwife handed him back to Lady Aeliana, Shade felt the warmth of her arms cradling him. She smiled weakly, brushing a finger against his cheek.
"My little Zephyr…" she murmured.
Shade—no, Zephyr—closed his eyes, a faint, almost imperceptible smile forming on his tiny lips. He let out a soft cry, not of confusion or despair, but of defiance.
In the void of his old life, he had survived at all costs.
In this new life, he would do more than survive. He would rewrite destiny itself.