The air felt heavy.
Warm sunlight filtered through the tall, arched windows, casting soft shadows onto the velvet sheets he lay beneath. A golden breeze danced past lace curtains, rustling gently—as if the world around him breathed with quiet patience.
But he couldn't move.
His limbs were stiff. His throat is dry. His breath was shallow.
Where… am I?
The ceiling above wasn't tiled in white like a hospital. It was carved wood, gilded and ornate, like something from a painting—or a dream.
He sat up abruptly.
Pain.
A sharp sting fired through his skull like lightning. His ears rang—loud, metallic, unbearable. His heart pounded. His breath caught in his throat as he stumbled out of the enormous bed.
His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed onto the cold marble floor.
His fingers dug against the polished stone. He pushed himself up again, jaw clenched against the tremors in his arms. Again. And again.
Why am I alive?
Each time he fell, panic surged deeper into his chest. His body—this body—was too unfamiliar. Smaller. Lighter. He gripped the nearby table and tried again, staggering like a newborn deer.
A sharp gasp broke the silence.
He turned sharply toward the sound.
A girl stood at the doorway, wide-eyed and pale. Her uniform—a crisp black dress with white cuffs—looked nothing like what a nurse should wear.
A maid?
She dropped the tray she was holding. Glass shattered across the marble floor.
The sound pierced through his buzzing ears like a dagger. His head throbbed. His knees shook.
He bolted.
Limping toward the open door, he barely registered the sweeping hallway beyond. Velvet curtains. Candle sconces. Suits of armor lining the walls.
Where the hell is this place?!
He kept going, brushing past startled servants, ignoring their voices. His ears were ringing too loud to hear them. Why did everyone dress like this? Why did this place feel like he'd fallen into some historical fantasy book?
Then, he saw it.
A mirror.
Tall, golden-framed, standing silently at the edge of the grand staircase.
He stopped dead.
The reflection staring back at him was not his own.
A boy—pale, thin, with snow-white hair and piercing red-gold eyes—looked back at him.
His breath hitched.
He touched his own face. His jawline, his cheekbones, the strange color of his eyes. This wasn't the face he remembered. This wasn't him.
Footsteps. A presence behind him.
A woman's voice.
"Kael…?"
His heart seized.
No. No. Who was she? How did she know that name?
His vision blurred. Panic surged. He spun around and stumbled backward—toward the staircase.
"Stay back!" he shouted, voice trembling.
He lost his balance.
His foot slipped on the edge.
The world tilted.
His ears roared, head screaming in pain as the marble steps rushed up to meet him—
But he didn't fall.
Strong arms wrapped around him, steady and firm.
A man caught him before he hit the ground.
"You shouldn't be walking yet," the man said calmly, his voice low, laced with gentle authority.
His heart thundered in his chest. His hands trembled. He tried to speak.
"W-Where… am I…?" he rasped, barely a whisper.
But darkness was already pulling him under.
The man held him close, steadying his body as it went limp.
"I told you," the man murmured, lifting him with ease. "You're safe now, Lord Kael."
The world faded.
Darkness again.