The suffocating embrace of icy water and the bitter taste of treachery were spectral sensations, haunting remnants of a life extinguished prematurely. But the oppressive blackness Elias Thorne had known was replaced by the luxurious softness of silken sheets and the heady aroma of exotic blooms. His limbs felt attenuated, fragile, yet strangely familiar in their delicate structure.
A primal surge of panic, an unwelcome but familiar guest, clawed at his throat. He opened his eyes to a chamber adorned with intricate jade carvings, shimmering gold accents, and elegant calligraphy that seemed to writhe with unseen energy. This was not his cramped apartment. This was not even the gilded cage of Lysander Blackwood, a place that had ultimately become his tomb.
A bone-chilling realization pierced through the lingering fog of rebirth. The faint thrum beneath his skin, the fleeting impression of a structured interface he vaguely recalled… he was back. Not merely reincarnated, but re-reincarnated. And the oppressive sense of déjà vu wasn't just a feeling; it was the crushing weight of foreknowledge, the awareness of impending calamities. He was in the distant past, years before the main events of "Celestial Ascendancy," burdened with the tragic end of his second life as the scorned noble.
"Well, cosmic playwright," he murmured, his voice possessing a youthful lilt, "you certainly have a flair for dramatic irony. Act three, let's see if I can turn this tragedy into a farcical masterpiece."
A hand of exquisite delicacy, adorned with rings of polished jade, gently brushed his brow. He turned to behold a vision of captivating beauty. Her raven hair flowed like a silken waterfall around a face sculpted with divine artistry. Her eyes, the color of twilight skies, held a gentle concern.
"Young Master Kaelen, you have been unconscious for a considerable time," she said, her voice like the soft melody of a plucked zither. "Are you in discomfort?"
Kaelen stared, momentarily robbed of his sardonic wit. This was… breathtaking. He vaguely recalled a minor character from the early chapters of the chronicle, a remarkably talented attendant with an unrequited infatuation for the original, foolish Lysander Blackwood.
"Discomfort?" he echoed, a wry smile gracing his lips. "Only from the sheer radiance that assaults my senses, my dear…?" He paused, his gaze inviting her to complete the sentiment.
A delicate blush bloomed on her cheeks. "Lin Yue," she responded softly, her gaze fluttering downwards with an endearing shyness.
"Lin Yue," Kaelen purred, the name a sweet melody on his tongue. "A name as luminous as its bearer. Fear not, for your presence is the most potent balm a weary soul could desire." Internally, he castigated himself. Maintain focus, you incorrigible flirt! You're supposed to be charting a course of strategic avoidance, not serenading every vision of loveliness! Yet, his lips seemed to operate independently.
[Resonance Concord Activating…]
Oh, for the love of… not again.