Betrayel

The room was dimly lit, a single candle flickering on a wooden table nearby, casting shadows that danced across the stone walls. I could feel the roughness of the floor beneath my knees, the chill of the damp air seeping through my thin clothes. My hands were bound, my wrists raw from the restraints that cut into my skin with every small movement. I could barely lift my head, yet I knew where I was—I had been here before, lived this moment once in another life, and the memory surged forward, carrying me like a current I couldn't resist.

My name… what was it? It felt like it was slipping through my fingers, just as it had that day, just as it always did in these memories. No, I remembered—I was Leander, and I was here for reasons I had nearly forgotten. In the haze of pain and exhaustion, I searched my mind for answers, trying to cling to anything that could ground me. This was a cell, deep within the fortress of Erengar, and I had been brought here because I dared to defy the one person I should never have crossed.

A flicker of movement in the shadows made me tense, every nerve in my body alive with fear. Footsteps echoed down the narrow hallway, growing louder as they approached. I tried to brace myself, to muster some final reserve of strength, but the pain and fatigue sapped my resolve. As the footsteps stopped just outside my cell, I looked up, and the familiar figure entered the dim light.

It was him—Jordan, but not as I knew him in this life. In this memory, he was Lord Rhyse, cloaked in fine black robes with a silver crest gleaming at his chest. His face was sharper, colder, eyes like steel that sent a shiver through me. His dark hair was tied back, and he held a torch in one hand, illuminating the room with a soft, haunting glow. He looked at me with a mixture of disdain and regret, emotions warring in his gaze that he tried so hard to keep concealed.

"Leander," he said, his voice a low murmur that carried a strange tenderness, despite the circumstances. "Why did you make me do this?"

The words cut through me, deeper than any of the wounds that covered my skin. I struggled to meet his gaze, my body weak but my spirit unwilling to yield. "You made your choice, Rhyse. And so did I."

A flicker of something softened his expression—a brief moment of pain, of recognition, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. He took a step closer, his shadow falling over me, and I could smell the faint, familiar scent of him, a blend of smoke and earth. Despite everything, it was comforting. Despite everything, it reminded me of who he once was to me.

"We could have had peace," he murmured, almost to himself. "You didn't have to stand against me."

I clenched my fists, feeling the restraints bite into my skin again. The words that came out of my mouth were ragged, pained. "Peace? You call this peace? You betrayed everything we believed in—all for power, for control. You turned against your own people, against me."

He flinched, a shadow passing over his face, and for a moment, I thought I had reached him. But then his jaw tightened, his face hardening once more. "It was necessary. The world doesn't change without sacrifice. You, of all people, should understand that."

His words echoed in the cell, heavy with the weight of his conviction. And yet, I could see a crack in his armor, a tiny fracture where doubt seeped through. I wanted to reach out, to find the man I once knew beneath this hardened shell, but I knew it was futile. Rhyse had made his choice, as I had made mine.

My voice was barely more than a whisper. "There's nothing left between us now, is there? Just this… just pain and betrayal."

He looked away, his face shadowed as he struggled with something he could never say. "There was once… but not anymore. I can't let my feelings cloud my purpose, not now."

For a brief, impossible moment, I imagined the world as it could have been—if Rhyse had not chosen this path, if I had not opposed him, if our bond had been enough to overcome the hunger for power that had consumed him. I could see us as we once were, laughing by the riverbank, his arm slung over my shoulders as we talked of changing the world together. But that world was gone, and the man standing before me was no longer the friend I had loved.

The torchlight flickered, casting shadows across his face as he regarded me with something that might have been sorrow. "You've left me no choice, Leander," he said quietly. "The council has demanded your execution. I tried to… delay it, to give you a chance to see reason. But you won't. You're too stubborn."

I let out a hollow laugh, my voice hoarse. "I've always been stubborn. You of all people should know that."

A faint smile ghosted across his lips, a memory of something that we'd once shared. But the warmth faded as quickly as it had appeared, and he turned away, his face shadowed in the torchlight. "It will be quick, as painless as I can make it. I… owe you that much."

The room seemed to close in on me, the walls pressing in as the reality of my fate settled over me like a shroud. This was how it would end. Not with a grand battle, not with victory or justice, but here, in the darkness, betrayed by the one person I had trusted above all others.

As he turned to leave, I found myself calling after him, desperation clawing its way up my throat. "Rhyse!"

He stopped, his shoulders tensing as he glanced back over his shoulder, just enough for me to see the raw pain in his eyes. "What, Leander?"

I swallowed hard, feeling my heart splinter. "Was it worth it? All of this… was it worth losing us?"

The silence that followed was suffocating, stretching out like a wound that would never heal. Finally, he looked away, his voice barely audible. "I don't know anymore."

And then he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the hall, leaving me alone in the dark. The door slammed shut, and I sank to the floor, the weight of my sorrow pressing down on me, as heavy as chains. I could feel the tears sliding down my face, hot and bitter, as the reality of my fate settled over me.

In that moment, I knew—this memory, this life, had ended in betrayal and loss. And even now, the echoes of it lingered, casting shadows over everything I tried to build in the present.