Morning arrived not with gentle light but with a piercing knock.
Lucien stirred, disoriented. The warmth of the previous night still clung to him—Eiran's arm wrapped loosely around his waist, their breaths in sync, tangled beneath the fur-lined blankets. For a fleeting moment, Lucien allowed himself to pretend nothing had changed. That they were just two men, in a world without politics, without war, without destiny clawing at their backs.
But the knock came again—urgent this time.
He sat up, careful not to wake Eiran, and crossed the room to open the door just a crack.
Alaric, his ever-loyal steward, stood outside. His expression was taut.
"My Lord, I'm sorry to disturb you, but... there's been an incident."
Lucien's heart clenched. "What kind of incident?"
Alaric glanced over Lucien's shoulder, clearly noting the disheveled sheets and Eiran's still figure. A flicker of something unreadable passed over his face.
"A message arrived before dawn. One of our outposts near the border has been razed. Survivors say it was sorcery—no normal fire burns like that."
Lucien exhaled slowly. "Anyone we know?"
"Captain Kael was among the dead."
Lucien stiffened. Kael had been a friend—one of the few who'd stayed loyal through the darkest chapters of the Ravencroft name. His blood boiled beneath the surface, but he kept his voice calm.
"I'll be down shortly. Prepare the war table. No announcements until I've read the full report."
"Yes, My Lord."
Lucien shut the door gently and turned back to the bed.
Eiran was awake, propped on an elbow. "Something happened."
Lucien nodded. "Another attack. Kael's outpost."
Eiran's jaw tightened. "Damn it."
Lucien walked back to him, brushing fingers over Eiran's arm. "We knew the peace wouldn't last. But we'll respond on our terms, not theirs."
Eiran caught his hand. "Be careful, Lucien. You're already surrounded by enemies in your own house. An excuse for war is all some of them are waiting for."
Lucien met his eyes. "Then let them wait. I have no intention of becoming their puppet—or the monster they want me to be."
---
By mid-morning, the war chamber was filled with tense voices and strained patience.
Lucien stood at the head of the long table, a map of the Eastern territories spread before him. Alaric, General Thorne, and several trusted commanders stood in attendance. Eiran remained at his side—officially as an emissary of the Crown, but everyone in the room understood the deeper implications.
Some eyes held contempt. Others fear.
Thorne was the first to speak. "With respect, Duke Ravencroft, this is not the time for diplomacy. We've lost a stronghold. Our borders are vulnerable."
Lucien kept his voice measured. "And retaliation would only validate their provocation. We can't afford to play into their hands."
Thorne narrowed his eyes. "You speak as if you care more for appearances than honor."
Eiran stepped forward before Lucien could respond. "What would you prefer, General? More dead men? More towns burning just so we can prove a point?"
Thorne scowled. "I don't take orders from a prince who abandoned the North in peacetime."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
Lucien's voice cut through the tension like ice. "General Thorne, if you question the Prince's presence, you question my authority. Are you prepared to do that?"
Thorne hesitated. "Of course not, My Lord. But we must act."
Lucien stared him down. "And we will. On *my* terms. We strengthen the outposts, we protect our people, and we gather intelligence. Until I know who cast that fire, I will not waste another drop of blood."
Thorne bit back his retort and gave a curt nod.
The meeting dispersed with forced civility. Eiran lingered, eyes on the map.
Lucien approached, voice low. "He's right, you know. About the fear. About the loyalty I haven't earned."
Eiran didn't look up. "Then earn it. Show them who you *really* are. And when they fight back, don't flinch."
Lucien smiled faintly. "You'd make a fine general."
"I make a better shield," Eiran said. "And right now, you need one."
---
That evening, Lucien walked the old chapel ruins at the edge of the keep—a quiet place where ivy crept up crumbling walls and wind whispered forgotten prayers.
He needed to think.
He needed to breathe.
A figure emerged from the shadows. A woman this time—tall, wrapped in traveling robes. Her face was veiled, but her presence pulsed with magic.
Lucien stiffened. "Who are you?"
The woman lowered her hood. Her eyes were silver. Ethereal. And painfully familiar.
"Call me Aeloria," she said. "Though once, you called me something else."
Lucien blinked. "What are you talking about?"
She stepped closer. "You're not the first soul to awaken in a borrowed body, Lucien Vale. And you won't be the last. But you may be the only one with a chance to fix the story."
Lucien's throat tightened. "You know who I am."
Aeloria nodded. "And I know who he is too."
She glanced toward the castle.
"You've done well to reach him. But you're not the only one rewriting fate. Others have awoken. And not all of them want peace."
Lucien's mind reeled. "You're saying someone else from my world is here? In this story?"
"Not from your world. But from your… line. Your thread. You're tangled now, all of you."
Lucien swallowed. "Why tell me this?"
"Because the story's true villain hasn't arrived yet. But he's coming. And if you think you can save Eiran alone—you're a fool."
Then she vanished.
No magic spark. No smoke. Just… gone.
---
Lucien returned to his chambers in a daze. The words echoed in his mind.
*You're not the only one rewriting fate.*
When he arrived, Eiran was seated at the writing desk, polishing a dagger absentmindedly. He looked up and immediately stood.
"You're pale. What happened?"
Lucien didn't lie. He couldn't—not to him.
He told Eiran everything. The woman. The warning. The possibility of another player moving unseen across their board.
Eiran listened in silence, then walked over and placed the dagger down.
"So we're not alone in this madness," he murmured.
Lucien nodded. "And the real villain… may be yet to come."
Eiran lifted Lucien's chin gently. "Then let them come. We've faced shadows before. And I have no intention of losing you to another one."
Lucien leaned into his touch. "I don't know how this ends anymore. Not with all these new threads."
"Good," Eiran said. "Then we get to choose."
They stood like that for a long time, wrapped not just in each other's arms, but in something far more powerful:
Hope.
And beyond the castle walls, deep in the northern snows, a figure cloaked in midnight stood atop a cliff, eyes fixed southward.
His smile was cruel.
And his story was only just beginning.
---
To be continued...
Please do review, comment and give power stone please 🙏