Darkness surrounded him.
Eryndor felt weightless, as if floating in a void. His limbs wouldn't move, his body felt distant, and his mind struggled to grasp reality.
Then came the voices—whispers at first, then shouts, filled with desperation and anger.
"You betrayed me!"
"We had no choice—!"
A flash of silver—a sword, stained with blood. A battlefield, bodies strewn across the ground. He saw himself, standing amid the chaos, blood dripping from his fingers. His heart pounded as the vision shifted. He was locked in combat, facing an unknown figure cloaked in shadows. Their movements were fast, precise, each strike sending shockwaves through the air.
"You were never meant to live."
Pain erupted in his chest as a blade pierced him. Coldness spread through his body. The last thing he saw was a cruel smile before everything faded to black.
---
Eryndor gasped, his body jerking awake. His breathing was ragged, his skin slick with sweat. The familiar wooden ceiling of Eldrin's cottage swayed above him. His hands trembled as he pressed them against the mattress beneath him.
"That dream… no, that memory."
The details were still blurry, but one thing was clear—he had died. He had been killed.
"You're awake," Eldrin's voice broke through his thoughts.
Eryndor turned to see the old mage sitting beside him, his expression a mixture of relief and concern. "You were unconscious for almost a day," Eldrin continued, handing him a small cup of water.
Eryndor took it, his fingers still unsteady. "That man… the one in the hood… what happened?"
Eldrin sighed. "You released a burst of magic before collapsing. A dark force unlike anything I've ever seen. I had to contain it before it could harm you—or worse."
Eryndor clenched his fist. The memory of that shadowy battle was still fresh in his mind. "Eldrin… have you ever heard of someone being reborn?"
The old mage stiffened slightly. His silence lasted too long.
"You're not asking that without reason," Eldrin finally said, his voice measured. "Why?"
Eryndor hesitated. Should he tell him everything? About the visions, the battle, his death? But even as he debated, he knew the truth—this wasn't just a dream. It wasn't imagination. The pain, the fear, the betrayal… it was real.
"I don't know who I was," Eryndor said, his voice quieter now. "But I think… I died before. And now, I'm here."
Eldrin exhaled, rubbing his temples. "This magic of yours—it's unnatural, even dangerous. If what you say is true… then you weren't just anyone in your past life."
A heavy silence settled between them.
Eryndor swallowed hard. He didn't just want answers—he needed them.
"Who was I? And why was I killed?"
As the questions burned in his mind, outside the cottage, unseen by either of them, a figure watched from the shadows.
The past was beginning to stir. And it would not let him rest.
---
End of chapter 4