The screech of metal against concrete was the last sound Kael Victor heard before the world went dark.
He had been working late again, hunched over his drafting table in the cramped engineering office, when the earthquake struck.
Twenty-seven years old and already considered a prodigy in structural engineering, Kael had been designing a revolutionary bridge support system that could withstand seismic activity. The irony wasn't lost on him as the building's outdated framework collapsed around him, crushing his dreams along with his body.
The pain lasted only moments before everything faded to black.
When consciousness returned, it came with a flood of sensations that made no sense.
The air smelled different as it was cleaner, yet tinged with something he couldn't identify. Wood smoke, perhaps, mixed with herbs and something metallic. The surface beneath him was soft but unfamiliar, nothing like the hospital bed he expected to wake up in.
Kael tried to open his eyes, but even that simple action sent waves of exhaustion through his entire body. His limbs felt wrong as they felt too thin, too weak, as if he'd been bedridden for months. When he finally managed to crack his eyelids open, the sight that greeted him defied all logic.
Stone walls rose around him, carved with intricate patterns that belonged in a medieval castle, not a modern hospital.
Tapestries hung from iron hooks, depicting scenes of armored knights and mythical beasts. Candles flickered in ornate holders, casting dancing shadows across the chamber. The bed he lay in was massive, with heavy wooden posts and curtains that looked like they cost more than his entire apartment.
"This has to be a dream," he whispered, but even his voice sounded wrong. It was younger and weaker than he remembered.
The door creaked open, and a woman in elaborate robes entered. Her graying hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her sharp eyes immediately fixed on him with a mixture of relief and concern.
"Prince Silas," she said, her voice carrying an accent he couldn't place. "Thank the ancestors you're awake. The council has been waiting."
Prince? Kael tried to sit up, but his body refused to cooperate. The woman, clearly some kind of servant or advisor, hurried to his side, adjusting pillows behind his back with practiced efficiency.
"Careful, Your Highness. You've been unconscious for three days. The healers said it was another episode."
Another episode?
Kael's mind raced as fragments of memories that weren't his own began to surface. Images of this same room, of people calling him by a different name, of a body that had always been weak and sickly.
Prince Silas Cinder, the last heir to the Kingdom of Eldoria, known throughout the realm as the Cursed Prince.
The memories hit him like a tidal wave.
A kingdom in decline, surrounded by powerful enemies. A royal family decimated by plague and war, leaving only one sickly heir to carry on the bloodline. A realm that had once been proud and prosperous, now reduced to a shadow of its former glory.
"The council meeting," the woman continued, apparently taking his silence for confusion rather than existential crisis. "They're discussing the Aurelian proposal again. Your presence is required."
Aurelian proposal. Even as the words left her lips, Kael no, Silas understood their significance. The Aurelian Dominion, one of the three great empires that surrounded Eldoria like hungry wolves, had made an offer. Submit to imperial rule, and the kingdom's people would be spared. Refuse, and face annihilation.
"Help me up," Silas said, surprised by the authority in his voice despite its weakness. The woman, Chancellor Marcus's assistant, his inherited memories supplied looked uncertain.
"Your Highness, perhaps you should rest..."
"Help me up," he repeated, more firmly this time. "If the council is discussing the fate of our kingdom, then I need to be there."
The process of getting dressed was humiliating. His body was so weak that he needed assistance with everything, from putting on the elaborate royal garments to simply standing upright.
The face that stared back at him from the polished metal mirror was gaunt and pale, with dark circles under eyes that held far too much weariness for someone who appeared to be barely sixteen.
But behind those tired eyes, Kael's mind was already working. He had been given a second chance at life, albeit in circumstances he never could have imagined.
This wasn't just some fantasy novel come to life; this was real, and the stakes were higher than any engineering project he'd ever worked on. An entire kingdom's survival hung in the balance.
The walk to the council chamber felt like a marathon. Each step required conscious effort, and by the time they reached the massive oak doors, Silas was breathing heavily. The guards snapped to attention as he approached, their faces showing a mixture of respect and pity that made his stomach churn.
The council chamber was a study in faded grandeur. The long table that dominated the room was carved from a single piece of ancient oak, its surface polished to a mirror shine despite the scratches and stains that spoke of centuries of use.
Twelve high-backed chairs surrounded it, though only seven were occupied. The kingdom that had once required a council of dozens now struggled to fill even this reduced number.
Conversations died as Silas entered, and all eyes turned to him. He recognized most of the faces from his inherited memories, though seeing them in person was still jarring. Chancellor Marcus Greystone sat at the head of the table, his weathered face creased with worry lines that seemed to have deepened since Silas's last memory.
Duke Aldric Blackstone lounged in his chair with barely concealed disdain, his expensive clothes a stark contrast to the kingdom's poverty. Lady Elara Brightwater sat straight-backed and alert, her intelligent eyes studying Silas with an intensity that made him uncomfortable.
"Your Highness," Chancellor Marcus said, rising from his chair. "We're relieved to see you recovered. Please, take your seat."
The chair at the foot of the table had been his father's, and his grandfather's before that. As Silas lowered himself into it, he felt the weight of generations of rulers who had sat in this same spot, making decisions that shaped the fate of thousands.
The irony wasn't lost on him that he, a man who had spent his previous life building bridges, now found himself trying to prevent the collapse of an entire kingdom.