Lukas found himself standing in a vast forest, bathed in golden sunlight. But he wasn't himself.
He was watching.
Like a ghost, an outsider in someone else's past.
And then, he saw him.
Zed—the real Zed—no older than eight, riding a galloping horse through the dense woods. His small frame barely held firm on the saddle, his hands gripping the reins tightly.
Riding beside him was another boy, strikingly beautiful with long, flowing red hair and piercing golden eyes that burned with arrogance.
Prince Frey.
Their horses weaved through the trees, their hooves kicking up dirt and leaves as they pursued a wild boar. The beast dashed frantically ahead, its massive body knocking over bushes in a desperate attempt to escape.
"Prince Frey, let's turn back! We can't catch it on our own!" Zed called out, his voice tinged with unease.
Frey merely scoffed, his smirk wicked, his golden eyes gleaming with something dark.
"Oh, Zed… I'm not here to hunt a wild animal."
A chill ran down Zed's spine. His instincts screamed—something was wrong.
Zed turned to look at him, confusion flickering across his young face. "What do you mean—?"
Before he could react, the arrow had already left the bow.
Pain.
A searing, unbearable agony tore through his small body as the arrow pierced deep into his stomach. Zed gasped, his hands flying to the wound.
The arrow dissolved into his flesh, leaving behind an open, bleeding gash.
His vision blurred. His breaths turned to shallow gasps.
He swayed on his horse—then fell.
Far away, Lukas watched it unfold.
Horror crashed into him like a tidal wave.
He tried to move—to run to the boy, to grab him, to do something—
But his hands passed through the scene like mist.
He wasn't real here.
All he could do was watch.
Zed hit the dirt with a painful thud, his body curling in on itself. His small hands trembled, pressing against his stomach as warm, sticky blood pooled beneath him.
Crunch.
Footsteps over dry leaves.
Frey approached slowly, each step deliberate. The prince knelt, grabbed a fistful of Zed's dark hair, and yanked his head up.
Zed whimpered, his body trembling violently.
Frey's lips curled in amusement.
"Look at you." His voice dripped with mockery. "The only heir of the great Ravenhart family… a pathetic, weak loser."
Zed tried to push him away, but his strength was fading.
Frey's smirk deepened. "Such a shame you have a beautiful sister. But don't worry…" He leaned in, his breath ghosting over Zed's ear.
"After I kill you, I'll make her my concubine. I'll feel her every night."
Zed's dazed blue eyes widened in sheer horror.
Rage.
A weak, dying fire flickered in his chest.
"NO!"
With the last of his strength, he swung his fist at Frey—
He missed.
His knuckles barely brushed Frey's face before his own blood splattered onto the prince's pristine clothes.
The smirk vanished.
Frey's expression twisted into pure rage.
"You filthy swine." His voice was ice-cold. "How dare you dirty my clothes?"
His boot slammed into Zed's gut.
A sharp, choking gasp.
Zed curled in on himself, the force knocking what little air was left in his lungs. His small frame convulsed, fresh blood dripping from his lips.
Frey watched, unimpressed. He reached down, ripped the arrow from Zed's stomach, then grabbed his limp body by the collar.
Dragging him toward the edge of the cliff.
The wind howled.
The ground disappeared beneath them.
Frey spat on the broken boy in his grasp.
"Now die like your father, you pig."
And he let go.
Lukas watched, heart pounding, as Zed's small body tumbled into the darkness below.
Zed's scream of agony echoed through the valley as his small, battered body crashed onto the rocky ground below. A sickening thud followed.
Lukas didn't think. He jumped. The wind howled past him as he plunged into the darkness, but he felt nothing. No fear, no pain. His body was weightless, as if he were merely an observer in this nightmare.
A dream…? No. A memory.
The moment his feet touched the ground; he dashed toward Zed's broken form. The boy lay there, his once fair skin smeared with blood, his small chest barely rising and falling. Lukas knelt beside him, reaching out to help—
But his hands passed right through.
His heart clenched. I can't touch him… I don't exist here.
Gritting his teeth, he looked up toward the cliff. The sunlight illuminated Frey's figure as the red-haired prince walked toward his horse, completely indifferent—as if what he had just done was no more than swatting a fly.
Lukas's body shook with fury. His nails dug into his palms. You bastard…!
Then—
A faint tug.
Lukas's breath hitched.
He looked down.
Zed's trembling fingers gripped the fabric of his pants.
I… felt that?
A jolt of energy shot through Lukas. His body—it was real. He wasn't just an observer anymore. Somehow, in this moment, he existed.
Without wasting a second, Lukas knelt beside Zed, lifting him gently. Blood soaked his hands, warm and sticky, but he didn't care. He carefully pillowed Zed against a nearby tree, supporting his fragile frame.
Zed's breaths were shallow, his once-bright blue eyes flickering with the last embers of life. His vision was hazy, his body trembling violently. Even speaking felt like hell.
Still, he forced himself to grab Lukas's collar, pulling him close.
"I… don't know who you are," he whispered, his voice barely a breath. "I don't know if you're a good person or bad… but please… hear my request."
His fingers dug weakly into Lukas's shirt, as if trying to anchor himself to life for just a few more moments.
"Please… protect my family… my sister… from them."
His lips trembled, fresh blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"I know… I'm asking for the impossible. I have nothing to offer… but I will be in your debt… please…"
His small body convulsed, a pained cough escaping his lips. His bloodstained hand clutched Lukas's arm, trembling.
"Please… save my family, mister… please…"
And then—
His hand fell limp.
His chest rose one last time.
Then—nothing.
Zed Ravenhart, the last heir of the Ravenhart family, was dead.
His lifeless body lay in Lukas's arms, his once-delicate features frozen in pain. His small hands, slick with his own blood, trembled no more.
Lukas stared at the boy's face.
His heart thundered violently. His breath came in ragged, uneven gasps. His vision blurred, darkening at the edges.
Then, something inside him snapped.
The hesitation in his fingers vanished. His hands curled into trembling fists.
The warmth in his eyes—gone.
Where there was once kindness, there was now only void. A bottomless abyss of hatred and rage.
"This world is rotten."
His voice, once soft and composed, now dripped with cold, venomous malice.
Then—
A voice echoed through the void.
Deep. Ancient. Unfathomably powerful.
"Even in his last breath, all he cared about was his sister… his family… What a brave and kind soul he was."
The air around Lukas crackled. The world shuddered.
Then—flames erupted before him.
The fire twisted and coiled like a living entity, shifting between hues of crimson, gold, and blinding white light.
From within the inferno, a figure emerged.
Towering. Radiant. Its very existence an overwhelming presence.
Slowly, the deity stepped forward, its burning gaze piercing into him.
The air hummed with raw energy.
It lifted a single, blazing finger and traced a slow path across Lukas's cheek.
Lukas did not flinch.
Instead, he spoke. "Are you the one showing me all this?"
The deity's voice rumbled like distant thunder.
"Perhaps I am. Perhaps I am not. That is not important."
"Whats important is this—"
"What will you do… now that you've seen the truth?"
Lukas's fists tightened. "What do you mean by that?"
The flames surged.
Blinding. All-consuming.
Lukas felt himself being engulfed; his surroundings swallowed by pure radiance.
And as everything faded into nothingness, the deity's final words echoed in his ears—
"You will find your answers in time, child. But heed my words… If you do not grow stronger, everything you love in this world will perish before your very eyes. In this world, power is everything."
Then—darkness.