"Brother!"
A voice echoed through the darkness.
"Help! Please—it hurts! Brother!"
"I–I'm coming!" Heitr shouted back, his voice hoarse. "Hold on! I'm almost there!"
Something unseen seized him.
The world twisted—and Heitr was violently pulled backward.
"Brother!"
Heitr jolted awake, gasping, his hand thrust forward as if grasping for someone just beyond reach.
Silence answered him.
"…Ever since I came back in time," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair, "I've had the same nightmare."
Moonlight spilled through the window of his chamber, casting long shadows across the stone floor.
"In my previous life, I never had to confront my past," he continued quietly. "Is this…a new trial from the gods?"
He stared out into the night, his reflection faintly visible in the glass. For forty-two years, he had buried his pain beneath strength—buried grief beneath power. No longer will he wait.
Later that morning, Heitr stood before his throne in the grand hall of the Alexandros estate.
"My lord?" Caldwell asked, stepping forward. "You summoned me?"
"Caldwell," Heitr said solemnly, resting a hand on the armrest of his throne, "inform anyone who seeks an audience with me that I am undergoing intense training. I am not to be disturbed."
Caldwell hesitated. "Lord Heitr… is something wrong?"
Heitr turned to his retainer—and for once, the smile he offered was genuine. "There is," he said softly, "something I must take care of."
He started walking toward Caldwell—meeting his eyes. "You are my closest aide. I trust you to manage affairs while I'm away."
Caldwell bowed deeply. "As you command, my lord."
And with that, Heitr Alexandros set out alone.
"This place hasn't changed…"
The words left his lips as he stared at the dilapidated remains of what was once his birthplace.
Broken stone. Collapsed roofs. Nature reclaiming what little remained.
As he walked through the ruins, memories rose unbidden.
"Make sure you both come back in time for dinner." A woman's voice—warm, gentle.
"Okay!" a young Heitr replied, laughing as he ran beside his brother.
The two of them raced through the village, stealing apples, sightseeing, laughing without worry.
Before heading home, they ventured deep into the forest, climbing to the highest peak overlooking the village.
"It's a beautiful sight, isn't it?" his brother said.
"Yeah…" young Heitr replied. "It really is."
As they descended, his brother suddenly stopped.
"Hey," he said quietly, nudging Heitr. "Do you smell that?"
"Yeah…" Heitr replied, heart tightening. "It smells like—"
"Fire."
They ran.
They stopped at the village entrance. Screams filled the air. Buildings burned.
And at the center of it all stood a gigantic figure—silhouetted by flames.
"B–Brother…" Heitr whispered. "Mother is okay, right?"
There was no reply.
His brother ran ahead.
"Brother, wait!" Heitr shouted.
Heitr snapped back to the present.
Standing at the center of the ruined plaza, he clenched his fists. "This," he said quietly, "is where my story began…"
Heitr walked to the remains of his childhood home, sifting through debris until he uncovered a hidden hatch. An underground basement. Inside, among dust and decay, he found an old letter.
As if someone had been watching his life unfold.
Hans is easily influenced—unlike his brother. Neither has noticed that I am not their mother. I do not believe they ever will.
Both had their Numa sealed as infants. I will strike tonight and return the day after you receive this letter.
Heitr's breath hitched.
"This letter…" he said slowly, gripping the parchment, "was addressed to someone in the east."
His gaze lifted to the sky.
"…Looks like my journey just became much longer."
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Sorry, Caldwell."