"When I opened my eyes, the world had already forgotten my name.
But my heart still whispered it through someone else's voice."
The first thing I felt was the weight of air.
It pressed on my chest like a hand that didn't want me to rise.
I gasped, not from pain, but from confusion because when I opened my eyes, I didn't recognize the ceiling above me.
The plaster was cracked, water-stained, and foreign.
There was a faint hum from a nearby refrigerator, the kind of sound that didn't belong to my world the one I remembered.
I sat up, my body sluggish and sore, and that's when I noticed the hands resting on my lap.
Bigger. Rougher.
Not mine.
The room smelled faintly of soap and dust.
A small window let in a dull, gray light that belonged to morning, and outside, I could hear the city breathing cars, distant chatter, a dog barking somewhere far away.
I touched my face.
The angle of the jaw was wrong. The skin was warmer, thicker.
Then I saw my reflection in the cracked mirror leaning against the wall.
A stranger stared back.
Dark hair, messy and unkempt. Eyes dulled by exhaustion.
He looked about twenty, maybe younger.
But behind that reflection, my heart whispered a name that didn't belong to him.
Ariselle.
It hit me like a whisper torn through time.
That was my name once.
The last I heard before the fire consumed everything.
I stumbled backward, my legs shaking.
This wasn't a dream. It felt too heavy to be one.
The air was cold. My breaths fogged the glass.
I was alive, but not as myself.
A phone buzzed beside the mattress, snapping me out of my daze.
The screen blinked with a name I didn't know: Maya (Bar Shift)
I hesitated before answering.
"H–Hello?"
A woman's voice barked through the line. "Aiden! Don't tell me you're sleeping again. Your shift starts in thirty minutes."
Aiden.
So that's who I was now.
"Right… I'm coming," I said, the voice that came out of me rough and deeper than I expected.
The streets outside were wet, glistening with last night's rain.
I pulled my hoodie tighter as I walked, still trying to understand the rhythm of this strange, bright world.
Neon signs flickered even in daylight. Vendors opened carts selling fried food and coffee.
Everything smelled alive and noisy, nothing like the silent marble halls of the palace I once ruled.
Every sound felt like a bruise against my skull.
People rushed past me without looking.
Cars honked. Someone cursed at another for blocking the way.
I wanted to hide, but there was nowhere to go.
When I reached the bar, the sign above the door blinked in broken red light: The Ember Room.
Fitting, I thought. Even in this life, fire followed me.
Inside, the air was dim and sticky with the smell of alcohol.
Bottles lined the shelves behind the counter. A few tables were scattered around, the floor shining with the lazy reflection of colored lights.
Maya, a woman in her thirties with sharp eyes and tired hands, looked up from wiping a table.
"About time you showed up," she muttered. "You okay? You look like you haven't slept in a week."
I tried to smile, but it felt foreign on my face. "Just… weird dreams."
She snorted. "Join the club. Get changed and start wiping the counters. We're opening early today."
I nodded and headed to the back, trying to steady my thoughts.
Weird dreams, she said.
If only that were true.
The shift began quietly.
I cleaned tables, refilled ice, and tried to mimic the way Aiden used to move based on the fragments that floated in my head.
He had been alone, an orphan scraping through life with small jobs and smaller paychecks.
No friends, no family.
Only the faint hope that maybe tomorrow would be better.
In a strange way, it comforted me.
For someone who once carried the weight of a kingdom, being no one felt… peaceful.
But that peace didn't last long.
As night fell, the bar filled up laughter, music, the clinking of glasses.
I forced myself to keep up, carrying trays, pretending to belong.
Until one man caught my arm.
"Hey, pretty boy," he slurred, his breath thick with beer.
"Don't run off so fast."
I froze. His grip was firm, the kind that didn't ask permission.
My heart pounded as flashes of another time another hand, another voice pierced my mind.
The last time someone grabbed me like that, I had a sword in my hand.
Now, I had nothing.
The man's fingers dug into my arm.
I tried to pull away, but he was stronger his laughter echoing too loudly in the haze of music and smoke.
"Come on, don't be shy," he sneered. "Aren't you the quiet one who just started working here?"
I could smell the alcohol on his breath.
Something inside me trembled not just fear, but the faint stirring of something ancient.
Old instincts screamed beneath my skin, the kind that belonged to a warrior who had died a long time ago.
"Let me go," I said.
He only grinned, tightening his hold.
The room seemed to blur around me.
The pounding music faded.
All I could hear was my heartbeat, rising like a storm.
My pulse burned, and for a second, I thought I saw a faint shimmer beneath my skin light, soft and gold, flickering like a dying flame.
It startled me so much that I stopped breathing.
Then someone grabbed the man's wrist.
The drunk stumbled, cursing, but the new voice that cut through the noise was calm and sharp enough to freeze the air.
"Didn't you hear him?" the man said.
"He said let go."
The man's grip loosened instantly.
He turned, ready to yell, then stopped.
The newcomer stood half in shadow, tall and immaculately dressed in black.
His hair was dark, slicked back, and his gaze cold, silver-gray cut through the dim lights like a blade.
"Who the hell are you?" the drunk spat, stepping forward.
"Someone who doesn't like repeating himself."
The stranger's tone didn't rise, but something in it made the air heavy.
The drunk faltered, mumbled something under his breath, and stumbled out of the bar.
I stood there frozen, my hands trembling slightly.
The man turned toward me then, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Those eyes there was something in them.
Recognition.
Pain.
As if he'd seen me before.
"You should be careful," he said quietly. "This place attracts trouble."
"I Thank you," I managed.
He nodded once, glancing at the faint shimmer still fading from my wrist.
Then his gaze softened, almost imperceptibly.
"Interesting," he murmured, as if speaking to himself.
Before I could ask what he meant, he turned and walked away, the sound of his footsteps fading into the city beyond.
Maya rushed over. "Aiden! You okay?"
"Yeah," I lied, still staring at the door.
But deep down, I knew something had changed.
The air still hummed faintly where he'd stood.
And that strange, burning pulse in my chest hadn't stopped since he touched my arm.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw flashes swords, fire, the smell of smoke, the sound of someone calling my name.
Elias.
I sat up, my breath caught in my throat.
The name echoed like thunder inside my skull.
But when I tried to remember the face that belonged to it, all I saw was silver eyes staring at me through time.
The same eyes that saved me tonight.
And then I knew fate wasn't done with me yet.