The blade pierced his chest before he could react.
It was a cold, precise strike, delivered with the efficiency of a professional. The crown prince staggered, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of the dagger buried in his heart. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining the intricate embroidery of his royal robes. His vision blurred, and the world around him seemed to slow—the flickering torchlight, the panicked shouts of his guards, the shadowy figure retreating into the darkness.
"Why…?" he whispered, though no one answered.
The last thing he saw was the shattered crown lying at his feet, its golden fragments glinting in the dim light. Then, everything went black.
-----
When he opened his eyes, he was no longer in the palace.
He stood in a vast, endless void, surrounded by swirling mists of silver and black. There was no ground beneath his feet, no sky above his head—only an infinite expanse of nothingness. He looked down at his hands, expecting to see blood, but they were clean and whole. His royal robes had been replaced by a simple, unadorned tunic.
"Where… am I?" he murmured, his voice echoing strangely in the emptiness.
The void offered no answers. Instead, it seemed to pulse with a faint, rhythmic hum, like the heartbeat of some vast, unseen creature. He took a step forward, though there was no ground to walk on, and felt a strange pull—a force guiding him deeper into the mist.
As he moved, fragments of memory began to surface.
He saw himself as a child, running through the palace gardens with his younger sister. Her laughter echoed in his ears, a sound so pure and joyful it made his chest ache.
"Catch me if you can, brother!" she called, her golden hair streaming behind her like a banner.
He chased after her, his own laughter mingling with hers. For a moment, he was just a boy again, free from the weight of responsibility and duty.
But the memory shifted, and he was older now, standing before the throne. His father's crown rested on his head, its weight pressing down on him like a physical force.
"You are the future of this kingdom," his father said, his voice stern but not unkind. "Never forget that."
The prince nodded, though his heart was heavy. He had never wanted the crown, but it was his duty to wear it.
And then the dagger, the blood, the shattered crown.
"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "This can't be real. This can't be…"
But the memories kept coming, faster and faster, until they blurred into a chaotic swirl of images and emotions. He felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of loss—not just for his life, but for everything he had left behind. His family, his people, his dreams… all gone in an instant.
The void seemed to respond to his despair, the mists swirling more violently around him. He felt a strange warmth spreading through his chest, as if something inside him was awakening.
"What is this?" he asked, his voice trembling.
The void did not answer, but he felt a surge of energy coursing through him, filling him with a strange, otherworldly power. It was as if the void itself was imparting knowledge to him—fragments of information about things he had never seen or imagined.
He saw towering cities of glass and steel, their streets filled with strange, mechanical contraptions. He saw vast landscapes of fire and ice, inhabited by creatures that defied description. He saw stars being born and dying, galaxies colliding, and the very fabric of reality unraveling.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the vision ended.
He gasped, his mind reeling from the flood of information. He didn't understand what he had seen, but he knew one thing for certain: this was not the end.
"I'm still here," he said, his voice firm now. "I'm still alive."
The void seemed to respond to his declaration, the mists parting to reveal a faint, glowing light in the distance. He felt the pull again, stronger this time, and began to move toward the light.
As he walked, he felt a strange sense of calm settling over him. The fear and despair that had gripped him earlier began to fade, replaced by a quiet determination. Whatever had happened to him, whatever this place was, he would find a way to survive. He would find a way to return.
The light grew brighter as he approached, until it filled his vision completely. He felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of warmth and peace, as if he were being embraced by something vast and benevolent.
And then, with a final surge of energy, the void released him.
-----
He opened his eyes to find himself lying on the ground, the cool earth beneath him and the scent of pine in the air. He sat up slowly, his body aching as if he had just run a great distance.
He was in a forest, the trees towering above him like ancient sentinels. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. Birds chirped in the distance, and a gentle breeze rustled the branches.
For a moment, he simply sat there, taking in his surroundings. The forest was beautiful, but it was also unfamiliar. He had no idea where he was or how he had gotten here.
"Where… am I?" he murmured, his voice hoarse.
He stood up slowly, his legs trembling beneath him. His body felt different—stronger, lighter, as if he had been reborn. He looked down at his hands, half-expecting to see them glowing with the strange energy he had felt in the void, but they were just hands.
He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. He didn't know what had happened to him, but he knew one thing for certain: he was alive. And as long as he was alive, he would find a way to survive.
He began to walk, the forest stretching out before him like an endless maze. He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he couldn't stay here.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard the sound of running water. He followed the sound, his steps growing more confident with each passing moment.
As he walked, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He glanced over his shoulder several times, but there was no one there.
"Get a hold of yourself," he muttered, shaking his head. "You're just imagining things."
But the feeling persisted, a faint prickling at the back of his neck that he couldn't ignore.
He reached the stream a few minutes later, the clear water sparkling in the sunlight. He knelt by the bank and cupped his hands, drinking deeply. The water was cold and refreshing, and it helped clear his mind.
As he drank, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the water. He froze, staring at the face that looked back at him.
It was his face, but it was different. Younger, perhaps, or maybe just… changed. There was something in his eyes that hadn't been there before—a hardness, a determination that he didn't recognize.
"Who am I?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The reflection didn't answer.