Romeo
Detailed memory of their fourth life cycle
Torin was the crown prince of Celestia, the last heir of the imperial bloodline. He was born with a rare power tied to the Eclipse Blade, a sword that could channel the power of the stars and the void. Legends claimed that whoever wielded it would either save Celestia or destroy it. He was once known as the Empire's Guardian, fighting to protect his kingdom from invaders and the dark forces creeping beyond the Veil.
However, in his final days, he was betrayed, not just by Mira, but by his own kingdom. Accused of treason and stripped of his honor, he became a warrior of the shadows—a fallen hero turned executioner.
Mira was a high priestess and a Moonborn Oracle, a rare bloodline chosen by the Celestial Gods to foresee the future. She was raised in the temple, sworn to serve the empire, yet she had always been drawn to Torin—her childhood friend, her protector, her forbidden love. However, she foresaw a prophecy: Torin would bring Celestia's fall, not by his own will, but through forces beyond his control. The empire gave her an ultimatum: kill him or let the kingdom fall. Torn between her love and duty, she chose to betray him to save him, hoping that by pushing him away, she could alter fate. But fate is cruel. Her actions led to Torin's downfall, and when Celestia was consumed by war, she realized too late that the kingdom's destruction was inevitable—with or without Torin.
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The image of Mira's tear-streaked face flashed behind my eyelids, the echo of her silence a cold weight in my chest. I closed my eyes, and the grand staircase of the palace materialized, the air thick with smoke and the scent of burning wood. It wasn't just a vision; it was a memory, sharp and vivid.
The world was burning.
The once-glorious Celestian Empire, with its ivory towers and golden halls, was now a battlefield of fire and ruin. Screams of the fallen echoed through the air, swallowed by the crackling of flames and the acrid smell of smoke as banners bearing the royal crest collapsed into ash. The heat of the flames beat against Torin's face, and the sound of steel on steel rang through the air. Footsteps echoed from the corridor beyond. The enemy was closing in. There was no time left. And at the center of it all, standing atop the grand staircase of the imperial palace, Torin faced Mira.
His breath was ragged, his chest heaving from exertion. Blood dripped from the cut along his side, seeping into the black armor he wore. His sword—once a weapon of honor—felt unbearably heavy in his grip.
Mira stood across from him, her silver-white hair wild and disheveled, strands clinging to her tear-streaked face. She held a dagger in her trembling hands—its tip-stained red.
His blood.
Torin's grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles white with fury. His eyes, once full of devotion, now burned with a different fire—betrayal, disbelief, heartbreak.
"You betrayed me." His voice trembled, but it wasn't from weakness. It was from the unbearable weight of what she had done.
Mira flinched as if the words had cut her deeper than any blade ever could. "It wasn't supposed to be like this," she whispered, her voice raw. She took a hesitant step forward.
Torin stepped back. "Don't."
Her hands trembled, and the dagger clattered to the ground. "Please... I didn't want to hurt you, but I had no choice."
A bitter laugh escaped him, low and humorless. "You always had a choice, Mira."
The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken history. He had trusted her—more than anyone. They had fought side by side, shared whispered promises under moonlit skies, planned a future beyond the war that had torn their world apart.
And yet, here they stood.
Torin took a slow breath, his gaze locked onto hers. "Did you ever love me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Mira's lips parted, but no words came. Her silence was louder than any answer she could have given.
Torin exhaled sharply, shaking his head. The pain in his side was nothing compared to the agony of her silence.
Mira's hands clenched into fists. "If you stay, they'll kill you," she pleaded. "Please, Torin—run. Leave Celestia behind. Forget this place. Forget me."
His jaw tensed. "I can't."
Because no matter what she had done—no matter how deeply she had wounded him—he still loved her.
Even now. Even after everything.
Mira's eyes glistened with fresh tears. "Then I'll make sure you hate me enough to leave."
Before he could react, she lunged.
Torin barely had time to parry as she seized the dagger from the floor and slashed at him. Their blades clashed in a dance of steel and sorrow, their movements as synchronized as they had once been in battle—but now, they were enemies.
Torin gritted his teeth, deflecting each strike. He could see it in her stance—she wasn't trying to kill him. She was trying to push him away.
She was forcing him to leave.
With a final, powerful swing, he knocked the dagger from her grip, sending it skidding across the marble floor. In the same breath, he grabbed her wrist and spun her, pinning her against one of the towering pillars.
She gasped as his blade pressed against her throat. For a moment, neither of them moved. His heartbeat thundered against his ribs. This was his chance. If she were truly his enemy now, he should end this.
But he couldn't.
He saw the way her eyes searched his, pleading for something she couldn't say aloud. Torin's grip faltered. His blade trembled. I can't do it, he thought, the echo of that thought resonating within me.
But Mira could. With a choked sob, she twisted her wrist free, shoved her palm against his wound, and pushed him backward. The pain was blinding. Torin staggered, his vision blurring as he dropped to his knees. Blood spilled through his fingers.
Mira took a step forward, her hand reaching for him—but before she could touch him, shouts erupted from the hall.
The enemy was here.
Torin forced himself to look at her one last time.
Her silver hair glowed in the firelight, her blue eyes drowning in sorrow.
"Mira..." His voice was weak now, fading.
She clenched her fists at her sides. "You have to go."
Torin let out a shaking breath. "You were the only thing I never wanted to leave behind."
Then, before he could say more—before he could change his mind and die for her instead of leaving her—he turned and ran. He didn't look back.
He couldn't.
The last thing he heard before the world was swallowed in flames and darkness was Mira's broken whisper—
"I loved you, too."
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I gasped, my chest heaving, the phantom pain of the wound still searing through my side. The smell of smoke lingered in the air, even though I was back in my room. "Mira," I whispered, the name a raw ache in my throat. I looked down at my hands, still trembling. The weight of the memory was crushing, the feeling of betrayal and loss so real it felt like it had happened to me. What did it mean? Could I trust Venecia? Could I even trust myself? The questions swirled in my mind, a storm of doubt and fear. I had to find Venecia, I had to understand.