Smoke rose like a dark tide from the city below. Flames licked at the stone walls of the capital, and the banners of House Draven whipped violently in the wind. From the hilltop, Aelric Valen, heir to House Valen, knelt on the cold stone platform, his hands bound, his heart heavy with the weight of everything lost.
At his neck, the last possession of value remained—a delicate golden necklace, the final gift from his wife, Princess Selene of House Atheria. Its chain was slender, almost fragile, yet it carried all the warmth and memory of a life that had been stolen from him.
Aelric's mind raced back years—back to his childhood in the Valen estate, where he had learned that survival depended on cunning rather than brute strength. Orphaned of his father early, he had carried the burden of his house on his young shoulders, learning politics, strategy, and the subtle art of manipulation. Every lesson had been etched into his mind, preparing him for a world that valued power above all else.
Selene's upbringing had been equally rigorous but in a different mold. Born to House Atheria, a family famed for military might and political influence, she had trained relentlessly from childhood. Her beauty was legendary, but even more striking was her mind and her mastery of both battlefield and council. People whispered that she could command armies before she had even seen her first battle. And yet, despite her icy exterior, she had chosen Aelric, marrying him for love and alliance.
For two years, they had dreamed of peace—a kingdom where intelligence and strategy could outmatch brute force. But their dream ended in flames.
The war had begun when House Draven, driven by ambition and greed, launched a surprise attack on the border provinces. Cities burned, families were torn apart, and the forces of Valen and Atheria struggled to repel the enemy. Selene commanded troops with unmatched precision, cutting down Draven soldiers like waves on a cliff, yet the tide was unstoppable.
Aelric had done what he could, using strategy, foresight, and alliances, but every move had been anticipated by the Dravens. And now, here he was, kneeling on the execution platform, witnessing the end of everything. The capital had fallen. Selene… she had been struck down during the final assault, her last words to him echoing in his mind: "Live… protect us…"
The crowd's silence felt like a tomb. Soldiers, citizens, enemies—all watched as the heir of House Valen prepared to meet his fate. The executioner raised his sword. Time slowed. Aelric's gaze fixed on the necklace. He thought of every misstep, every lost opportunity, every moment he could have acted differently.
And then, warmth spread from the necklace, pulsing in rhythm with his frantic heartbeat. The world seemed to hesitate. Time bent around him. In an instant, he glimpsed the impossible: a second chance, a chance to undo all the tragedies.
The last thing he heard was Selene's voice, haunting and clear: "Live… for us."
When he opened his eyes, the platform was gone. His bindings vanished. He was no longer at the end of his life but standing once more in the past. Twenty-three years old again. Strong, yet untested. Armed only with memory, intelligence, and the burning desire to change fate.
The necklace rested warm against his chest. It was no longer a token of grief—it was a promise. This time, he would not fail.