second chance

Chapter 1

Just as Evander's consciousness faded, a chaotic yell roused him.

The sound rang sharp and clear, unlike the muffled voices he had grown used to in the haze of his deathbed. His eyes shot open, his chest heaving as if he'd been yanked out of a deep abyss.

The first thing he noticed was the light—bright and golden, spilling through an open window. The second was the voice shouting again, frantic and unmistakable:

"Evander! Get up, you idiot! Father's going to kill you if you're late again!"

His breath caught. That voice. He hadn't heard it in years.

His head turned slowly toward the doorway, where a young man stood with his arms crossed, irritation etched across his face. It was impossible, and yet—there he was. His older brother, Victor, looked exactly as he had before the war had hardened him.

Evander's body felt heavy, his mind spinning. He glanced down at his hands, expecting to see the gnarled, battle-worn fingers of a seasoned soldier. Instead, he saw smooth skin—no calluses, no scars, no signs of the countless lives he had taken.

"This… isn't real," he muttered under his breath, his voice trembling.

Victor's sharp gaze cut through his confusion. "Evander!" he snapped, impatience leaking into his tone. "Stop daydreaming and move! Father's already furious."

The words made Evander's stomach churn. Father. Memories of his father's disdain and cold commands surged back, filling his chest with dread.

Shit. I can't stand up to him. The thought struck him with the same weight it had all those years ago. He wanted to stay rooted in place, but Victor had already stormed off. Panic rising, Evander followed, his steps unsteady as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

"With this frail body, even kids half my size could beat me," he muttered bitterly, his hands curling into fists. The strength he'd once honed through the war was gone, replaced by the weak frame of his youth.

Then a sharp memory hit him, making his stomach twist.

A soft chime rang in his mind, like a bell signaling fate. This was the day he would try out for the academy.

The realization froze him mid-step. The Academy of Eternal Dawn. A place that accepted nothing but talent, strength, and hard work—all things he had lacked back then. His first attempt had been humiliating, a stark reminder of just how far behind he was compared to others. And failure wasn't just a possibility—it had defined him.

"I must connect with the abilities that I lost," he whispered, a flicker of determination breaking through his panic. "Even if I regain just a bit, my chances of passing will increase."

The thought steadied him, if only slightly. This was his second chance, but the weight of it pressed on his chest like a boulder. He would need every ounce of strength—both physical and mental—to rewrite the fate he had once endured.

Evander trailed after Victor, his mind racing as they descended the grand staircase of the family estate. The polished wood gleamed under the morning sun, but Evander barely noticed. His thoughts were consumed by the daunting memory of the academy.

As they reached the foyer, the heavy front door creaked open, and a servant stepped inside, bowing low. "The carriage is ready, my lords."

Victor turned to him with a mocking grin. "Don't screw this up, Evander. Father's already betting you'll embarrass us all."

Evander's jaw tightened, but he forced himself to stay silent. He had forgotten how small he'd once felt in his older brother's shadow, and now, with his weakened body, the sensation was suffocating.

The carriage ride was a blur of clattering wheels and bouncing seats. Victor, oblivious to his turmoil, spent the journey laughing with the driver.

When they arrived, the academy loomed before them. Its gates were towering iron structures, flanked by ornate stone pillars etched with the symbols of strength, wisdom, and discipline. Beyond the gates, rows of young recruits were already lining up, their chatter a mix of excitement and nerves.

Evander hesitated as he stepped out of the carriage. The academy was just as imposing as he remembered—no, even more so now that he was back in his frail, untrained body. The memories of his previous failure flooded back, and for a moment, his legs refused to move.

Victor glanced back, his expression unreadable. "What's wrong? Second thoughts already?"

"No," Evander said, forcing his voice to stay steady. He couldn't let Victor see his doubt. Not now.

He stepped forward, each stride feeling heavier than the last. The crowd of recruits parted slightly as he approached, and he caught snippets of their whispers:

"Isn't that the noble's son?"

"He doesn't look like much…"

"Bet he doesn't even make it past the first test."

The words stung, but Evander kept his gaze fixed on the gates ahead. This is my chance, he told himself. I won't fail again.

As he crossed the threshold, the weight of the moment struck him fully. The academy's entrance hall stretched out before him, filled with bustling applicants and stern instructors. This was where his journey began—not just to prove himself, but to rewrite his destiny.