Darian didn't know what to do.
He stood there, unmoving, as if his body had forgotten how. His mother lay on the ground in front of him, eyes open, seeing nothing. The air still smelled wrong—burned, sharp, unfamiliar.
Vesper was gone.
Gone.
Darian turned slowly.
The man who had done this sat a short distance away, one knee bent, one hand braced against the ground. Kaiden wasn't looking at the body. He was staring at nothing at all, his expression hollow, as if the world had ended a moment too late for him.
Something inside Darian snapped.
He stepped forward and swung.
THUMP.
His fist connected with Kaiden's face. The impact hurt him more than it hurt Kaiden.
Kaiden's head turned slightly with the blow.
He didn't retaliate.
He didn't even look angry.
THUMP.
Darian hit him again, weaker this time, his arms already trembling.
"You did this," Darian said hoarsely. "You killed her."
Kaiden finally looked at him.
There was no fury in his eyes.
Only pity.
It made Darian want to scream.
Kaiden reached out, slow, careful, as if approaching something fragile. His hand rested on Darian's head.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
The words landed wrong. Too small. Too late.
Darian tried to pull away, but his strength was gone. His knees buckled. Darkness crept in from the edges of his vision.
As he slipped, he felt Kaiden's hand steady him.
"I'm sorry," Kaiden said again, softer. "But you cannot live if you remember this."
Sleep took him.
A carriage waited beyond the ruined ground.
Four horses stood still, unnaturally calm.
Kaiden stepped inside, Darian limp in his arms.
The door closed.
The world folded.
After some time.
The carriage reappeared before a vast castle, its walls stretching farther than a normal person's eyes could ever have followed.
Kaiden stepped down, carrying the boy.
Gravel crunched beneath his boots as he walked the long path inward.
"Welcome back, Your Highness," a man said, bowing deeply. He wore dark formal attire.
He gestured subtly toward Darian.
Kaiden hesitated for half a second.
Then he handed the boy over.
"The Empress requests your presence," the man said carefully.
Kaiden didn't look back.
"I know why," he replied.
He paused.
"Tell her I am ready for the marriage."
The man bowed again.
And the gates began to close.
.....
Something was wrong with his head.
That was the first thought Darian had when he woke up.
Not pain, though there was pain, deep and throbbing behind his eyes, but wrongness.
His body felt heavy. Disconnected. Like it belonged to someone else, and he was just borrowing it.
The room spun.
He pressed his palms against his temples, trying to hold the pieces together.
"What...." His voice came out rough, unused. "What happened?"
The pressure in his head pulsed.
Not painful, exactly. More like... empty. Like there was space where something important used to be.
He tried to stand.
His legs buckled immediately and he went down hard, shoulder slamming into the floor.
"Shit!"
He lay there, breathing through the shock.
The floor was cold. Marble, maybe. Polished smooth.
That was wrong.
His floor at home was wood. Creaky.
From what?
He frowned.
He'd been about to remember something. Something about home.
But when he reached for it, there was just... nothing.
Static.
Blank space where a memory should have been.
His chest tightened.
"Okay," he said out loud, voice shaking. "Okay. It's fine. You just—you hit your head or something. It'll come back."
But even as he said it, he knew it wouldn't.
Whatever was missing, it was gone.
When the dizziness faded enough to look around, Darian took in the room.
High ceilings. Carved stone. Heavy curtains framing windows so tall they looked like they belonged in a cathedral.
Everything was expensive.
Ornate.
Unfamiliar.
He looked down at himself.
Clean clothes. Soft, fine fabric. Not a wrinkle. Not a stain.
When had he changed?
He couldn't remember.
His hands trembled as he lifted them, turning them over.
These were his hands. He recognized them, the scar on his left thumb from when he'd grabbed a knife wrong, the freckle on his right wrist.
But they looked... different somehow. Cleaner. Like they'd been scrubbed raw.
*I'm Darian,* he thought.
That much was certain.
*I'm fourteen years old.*
True.
*I live in—*
Nothing.
The thought cut off mid-sentence,
He tried again.
*My mother's name is—*
Static.
*My brother...*
Pain spiked through his skull, sharp and sudden.
Darian gasped, pressing both hands against his temples.
The pressure built for a moment, then released, leaving him dizzy and nauseous.
He couldn't even remember what he'd forgotten.
The hole where the memory should have been was smooth. Seamless.
Like it had never existed at all.
"What's wrong with me?" he whispered.
Step Step
Footsteps in the hallway.
Darian tensed.
Multiple sets. Coming closer.
He tried to stand again, managed to get upright this time, though his legs shook.
Voices outside the door, muffled:
"....don't know if he's awake yet—"
".....been three days, surely...."
"...His Highness said to inform him immediately—"
Three days?
The door opened.
Two girls stood there, both in maid's uniforms. One was younger, maybe sixteen, with anxious eyes. The other was older, composed, holding a tray.
They both froze when they saw him.
The younger one's eyes went wide. "You're awake."
Darian opened his mouth. Closed it.
What was he supposed to say?
"I....." His voice cracked. "Where am I?"
The older maid set the tray down quickly and approached, concern written across her features.
"Careful," she said, reaching out to steady him. "You shouldn't be standing. You've been...."
She stopped herself.
"You've been resting," she finished carefully.
"Three days?" Darian asked.
The younger maid nodded. "You've been unconscious since His Highness brought you here"
"I'll inform His Highness," the younger maid said, already backing toward the door.
"Wait....." Darian started.
She was gone.
His Highness?
Darian looked at the remaining maid. "Who's....?"
"Your father will be here soon," she said gently, guiding him back toward the bed. "Please, sit. You need to rest."
Father.
The word should have meant something.
Should have brought up a face, a voice, a feeling.
Instead,
Nothing.
A few minutes passed. Maybe more.
The door opened.
Darian knew who it was before he looked up.
He didn't know how he knew.
But his body knew.
Every muscle went tense. His breathing changed, shallower, controlled, like an animal trying not to draw attention.
The man who entered was tall. Dark hair, dark clothes, dark eyes that saw too much.
He moved like someone who'd never stumbled in his life.
"Darian," the man said.
His voice was quiet. Calm.
Familiar in a way that made Darian's skin crawl.
"How are you feeling?"
Darian's mouth answered before his brain caught up. "Fine."
The lie came automatically, instinctive.
Why did he lie?
The man, Kaiden, his mind supplied without asking permission, studied him.
Not unkindly. Not coldly.
Just... thoroughly.
Like he was looking for something specific and would know if Darian tried to hide it.
"You went through something unpleasant," Kaiden said, stepping closer. "Your mind protected itself by... letting go of certain things."
He paused.
"Memories. Context. Some events from before."
Before what?
Darian wanted to ask, but couldn't make the words come out.
"It's not permanent," Kaiden continued. "Some of it will return, given time. Some of it..."
He trailed off.
"Some of it might be better left forgotten," he finished softly.
Darian's hands clenched in the bedsheets.
"What happened to me?" he asked.
Kaiden's expression flickered—just for a moment. Something that might have been pain.
Then it smoothed back to calm.
"Nothing that can hurt you anymore," he said.
That wasn't an answer.
Kaiden extended a hand. "Come."
Darian stared at it.
Every instinct screamed at him not to take it.
Don't touch him.
Don't trust him.
Don't—
He took the hand.
Kaiden pulled him gently to his feet, then, before Darian could step back, pulled him into an embrace.
Darian went rigid.
His body locked up completely, muscles seizing.
Revulsion flooded through him, so strong it was almost physical. His stomach turned. His skin felt wrong, like insects were crawling underneath.
He wanted to shove away, to run, to....
But he didn't.
He just stood there, frozen, while Kaiden held him.
"You're safe now," Kaiden murmured against his hair. "I promise. You're safe."
The words should have been comforting.
Instead, they felt like a threat.
When Kaiden finally released him, Darian stumbled back, putting distance between them without meaning to.
Kaiden noticed.
Of course he did.
His eyes dimmed, just slightly. Hurt flashed across his features before he buried it.
"I know you don't remember," he said quietly. "But I'm your father, Darian. And I—"
He stopped.
"I'm glad you're awake," he finished.
Father.
The word sat wrong in Darian's mouth.
This man was his father.
He knew that, somehow. The knowledge was there, solid and undeniable.
But everything else, every feeling that should have come with it, was missing.
Or worse.
Replaced with this crawling sense of wrongness that he couldn't explain and didn't understand.
"I should rest," Darian said abruptly.
Kaiden's jaw tightened.
But he nodded. "Of course. I'll have food sent up."
He moved toward the door, then paused.
"Darian?"
"Yes?"
Kaiden looked back at him, and for just a moment, his composure cracked.
"I'm sorry," he said.
For what? Darian wanted to ask.
But Kaiden was already gone.