The afternoon sun was blazing high above the training grounds as the final group of applicants prepared for their trials.
Prince Alexander Valorian moved with true noble grace, but he also carried an edge. The prince's distinctive violet eyes glinted as he adjusted his practice sword, the Valorian family trait clear in every movement, and swept his gaze across the training ground with a detached air. At nineteen, he stood taller than most of the other applicants, shoulders broad beneath a fine-cut tunic, but it was the subtle wrongness about him that made Ethan's blood run cold.
In his old life, Prince Alexander had been a beacon of hope. Charismatic, genuinely kind, the sort of leader who inspired loyalty through his deeds rather than his name. That was before the corruption began to spread.
The young man standing before him now carried the prince's face, but wore it like an ill-fitting mask.
Alexander's left hand trembled, just slightly, barely visible unless you were watching closely.
Most disturbing of all, his lips moved in silent conversation with someone only he could see.
The possession had begun years earlier than it should have.
"Next group, forward," Mistress Denna called, her voice cutting through Ethan's growing dread.
Prince Alexander stepped into the Circle of Truth and faced his opponent. The merchant's son, Garrett Holme, visibly paled when he realized who he had been paired with. Fighting a prince was a lose-lose situation. If you won, it was disrespect. If you lost, you proved your lower status.
Mistress Denna raised her hand. "Standard rules apply. Two minutes to demonstrate skill and composure."
The moment her hand dropped, Alexander moved.
It wasn't the measured aggression Ethan remembered from the old life. This was something else entirely. Cold, calculating, and merciless. The prince's blade cut forward in a perfect arc, too fast for Garrett to react in time. The merchant's son got his weapon up, but Alexander was already around his guard.
There was no warmth in the prince's movements, no trace of the natural charisma that had once made him beloved. Every strike was flawless in technique, yet hollow, as if performed by someone who understood the steps but had forgotten the purpose behind them.
Garrett tried a desperate counterattack, speed born of panic pushing him forward. For a heartbeat, it looked like he might land a blow—until Alexander's eyes flickered with something that wasn't human interest.
The next strike came too fast. The blunted sword connected with Garrett's temple in a sharp sound that made the crowd wince. The boy dropped, unconscious before he even hit the ground.
"Victory to Prince Alexander," Mistress Denna announced, though a note of unease crept into her voice. She saw it too.
As Alexander stood over his fallen opponent, Ethan saw what the others missed. Wisps of dark energy curled around the prince's form, visible only to eyes that had seen corruption before. It moved like smoke, but with intent, coiling around his sword arm and brushing against his ear.
The corruption wasn't complete. Not yet. But it had already progressed farther than it should have. In Ethan's original life, Alexander hadn't shown signs until his twenty-second year, three years after leaving the Academy. The timeline had changed, and not in their favor.
Alexander stepped back from the circle, his violet eyes drifting across the crowd with distant interest.
His lips moved again, forming words too soft to hear, but Ethan recognized the rhythm. The cadence of someone speaking to a presence no one else could see.
"Impressive technique," someone murmured nearby. "The prince has clearly been training seriously."
"Did you see how fast he moved at the end?" another voice added. "Almost inhuman."
The casual praise made Ethan's skin crawl. They were watching the early stages of demonic possession, and they were admiring it.
As the final matches wrapped up, Ethan studied the other applicants with new eyes. If Alexander's corruption had accelerated, what else had changed? What other signs had he missed?
Across the training ground, Maya caught his gaze. She stood among a group of successful candidates, but her golden eyes were locked on the prince with the same wariness Ethan felt. Could she sense it too? Her bloodline's shadow magic might let her feel the influence others couldn't.
The thought brought a wave of dread and hope. If Maya could detect it, she might become a critical ally. But it also made her a potential target.
Alexander turned and made his way toward the Academy's main building. As he walked, those curling tendrils of dark energy clung to him that was unseen by the rest, but impossible for Ethan to ignore.
The Academy's bells rang, marking the end of the trial period. Mistress Denna stepped forward, her expression steady but clouded.
"Candidates, you have demonstrated varying degrees of aptitude. Results will be posted at sunset. Those accepted will begin classes in three days' time. Dismissed."
The crowd began to scatter. Ethan stayed back in the shade near the edge of the grounds. What he had seen wasn't just alarming, it was disastrous because it changed everything.
If Alexander's corruption had begun early, then the entire future was unstable. Every plan Ethan had relied on, every advantage from remembering the past, might already be slipping away.
The demons weren't following the same script. They were adapting. Moving faster. Maybe even aware of him.
The idea sent a chill through him.
Whoever or whatever, had sent him back in time, it seemed the enemy had ways of their own. The only question now was whether Ethan's knowledge could still make a difference against a future already being rewritten.
As the sun dipped lower, Ethan walked toward the Academy courtyard where results would be posted. But his thoughts weren't on rankings or exams.
They were on a single, bitter truth.
The war had already started.
And this time, the enemy had changed the rules.
Somewhere behind him, in the distance, he thought he heard soft laughter. Not loud. Not human.
But very, very real.