Kane staggered through the smoldering ruins of his kingdom, his vision swimming with blood and sweat. Every muscle screamed in protest, every step faltered, but the pain was a distant echo compared to the void in his chest. The imperial prince had razed it all—the palace, the people, everything Kane had ever known. His father's stern voice, his mother's gentle touch, the warriors who had once sworn to protect them—all silenced, their dying cries still ringing in his ears.
But there was one person he couldn't let go of.
"Julia…"
His voice rasped, barely audible over the crackling flames. His heart thudded unevenly as he lurched across the battlefield, the air thick with the stench of death. His sister had been his beacon in this crumbling world, the only one who saw strength in him despite his failings. He clung to a fragile hope that she might still be alive.
That hope shattered when he found her.
By the lake's edge, where the water mirrored the flickering flames, Julia lay motionless on the cold earth. Kane's breath caught, his legs giving out as he dropped to his knees beside her. Her golden hair, once radiant, was tangled with dirt and blood. Her pale skin was marred with bruises, her body exposed—stripped of the dignity she'd carried so effortlessly in life. The imperial prince hadn't just taken her life; he'd handed her to his soldiers like a trophy, a final cruelty that twisted Kane's grief into rage.
"No… no…" His voice cracked, tears spilling down his ash-streaked face.
With trembling hands, he tore off his own tattered shirt—the last remnant of the prince he'd once been. It wasn't much, but he couldn't leave her like this. Gently, he draped the fabric over her fragile form, shielding her from the world that had betrayed her. His fingers lingered on the cloth, as if he could somehow give her back the peace she deserved.
"I'm sorry, Julia," he whispered, his throat tight with sobs. "I wasn't strong enough to protect you…"
Guilt gnawed at him, sharper than the wounds seeping through his torn clothes. He had failed her, failed them all—his family, his kingdom, himself. What was left for him now?
Ignoring the fire in his limbs, Kane clawed at the dirt with his bare hands, digging a shallow grave. Each handful of earth sent jolts of pain through his battered body, but he welcomed it. She deserved more than this—a proper burial, a monument—but this was all he could offer. As he laid her inside and covered her with soil, his vision blurred, his strength fading. His injuries were too deep, the vial of salve in his pocket too meager to save him. It could dull the pain, perhaps, but he didn't want that. He didn't deserve it.
When the grave was finished, Kane collapsed beside it, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. Death hovered close, and he was ready to let it take him.
Then, a glint of gold caught his eye.
Something plummeted from the sky, landing a few feet away with a soft thud. Kane blinked, forcing his fading sight to focus. It was a bird—its feathers shimmering like molten gold, though dulled with blood and grime. One wing hung limp, broken. It resembled a hawk, yet its glow felt unearthly, stirring a flicker of wonder in his numbed mind.
Driven by an instinct he couldn't name, Kane dragged himself toward it. His hands shook as he cradled the creature, its warmth seeping into his cold fingers. Fumbling with the vial at his belt, he poured the last of his salve onto its injured wing, a small act of defiance against the despair swallowing him.
To his shock, the bird's feathers flared brighter. The wing twitched, then straightened, healing before his eyes.
"You shouldn't waste that on him," a voice said, smooth and commanding.
Kane's head jerked up, his vision swimming. A man stood there—tall, regal, his sharp features framed by dark hair. Power radiated from him, an aura that made the air hum. His eyes, piercing yet oddly gentle, fixed on Kane.
"That's no ordinary bird," the man continued, stepping closer. "It's a phoenix. A divine creature. It doesn't need your help to mend itself."
Kane stared at the bird in his hands, its golden light pulsing faintly. A phoenix? He'd heard tales of such beings—symbols of rebirth—but never believed them real. Yet here it was, alive and glowing.
The man sighed, his gaze softening. "You've endured enough for one lifetime. Rest now. Let your end be peaceful." He extended a hand toward the phoenix. "Come, little one."
But the phoenix didn't move.
Kane's eyes drifted shut, surrender creeping in. The world faded to a dull hum—until a sudden heat jolted him awake. The phoenix flared, its light erupting into a blinding cascade that wrapped around him. Pain seared through his veins, a fire scorching him from within.
"Wait!" the man shouted, alarm breaking his calm. "Phoenix, stop! That power isn't for mortals!"
Kane screamed, the agony consuming him. The man lunged forward, but the light surged brighter, drowning everything in white. Kane's body burned, his mind fracturing under the onslaught. This was death, he was certain—his final end.
Then the pain vanished.
He gasped, eyes fluttering open. No blood-soaked ground met his gaze, no ruins or flames. Instead, he lay in a soft bed, sunlight streaming through an open window. The scent of fresh bread wafted in, gentle and familiar. Disoriented, Kane sat up, his hands trembling as he took in the room. Pale blue walls, wooden shelves lined with childhood trinkets—it was his room, from years ago, before the world had crumbled.
"Is this… the afterlife?" he murmured, voice unsteady.
He swung his legs over the bed's edge and froze. His hands—small, unscarred, the hands of a boy—trembled before him. Heart pounding, he stumbled to the mirror. The reflection staring back wasn't the broken man he'd become, but a boy of thirteen, with wide, dark eyes and a mop of unruly hair.
Kane backed away, his mind reeling. He'd died. He'd felt it—the phoenix's fire, the end. Yet here he was, in a past untouched by ruin. Before he could grasp it, a voice called from beyond the door.
"Kane! Wake up! You'll miss breakfast!"
Julia.
His breath hitched, a tidal wave of emotion crashing over him. He flung the door open, and there she stood—alive, her auburn hair catching the morning light, her smile warm and teasing.
"Julia…" Tears welled as he lunged forward, wrapping her in a desperate hug. She stiffened, then laughed, patting his back.
"What's gotten into you, little bear?" she asked, her old nickname for him laced with playful concern.
Kane couldn't speak, his throat choked with grief and relief. How could he tell her he'd watched her die, buried her with his own hands? That their kingdom would fall in six years if he didn't change it?
"Just… a bad dream," he croaked, pulling back to wipe his eyes.
She tilted her head, worry flickering in her gaze, but she shrugged. "Well, shake it off. Breakfast's waiting." With a final grin, she turned and skipped down the hall.
Kane lingered, steadying his racing heart. Alone again, he sank onto the bed's edge. This was real—somehow, he'd returned to the past, six years before Alderon's fall. A second chance. This time, he'd protect her. This time, he'd be strong.
As resolve hardened within him, a faint shimmer caught his eye. Glowing text hovered in the air, translucent and impossible.
[Welcome to the System of IRITH.]
His pulse quickened. Another message appeared.
[Do you want to become stronger?]
[Yes] [No]
Kane stared, his hands clenching into fists. There was no hesitation, no doubt. He'd failed once. Never again.
He reached out and chose [Yes].