The Weight That Follows

Ezra ran a hand through his hair, staring at the cold stone floor beneath him.

The monastery was silent. The air heavy.

The weight in his chest—the chains that now bound him—felt more real than the room itself.

His other self sat nearby, watching him with that infuriating smirk. "You look like someone just told you your life is over."

Ezra snorted. "Isn't it?"

A chuckle. "Oh, no. It's just beginning."

Ezra sighed, pushing himself to his feet. His body still ached, but it wasn't weak. If anything, he felt… denser. Like he wasn't entirely human anymore.

Which, honestly, was a problem for future him.

First, he needed answers.

"Who brought me here?" Ezra asked, glancing at his surroundings. The monastery was dimly lit, abandoned, but not ruined. Someone had taken care of this place.

His other self stretched lazily. "A kind stranger."

Ezra narrowed his eyes. "Lying already?"

A grin. "Alright, fine. It was a woman. Wore a mask, spoke in riddles, acted like she knew you. "

Ezra stilled. "Knew me?"

"Mm-hm." His other self's golden eyes gleamed. "She called you 'The One Who Forgot.'"

A slow, creeping unease settled in Ezra's gut.

That title…

He didn't like that title.

It felt too familiar.

Like something he should remember.

He clenched his jaw. "Where is she now?"

His other self shrugged. "Gone. Left you a message, though."

Ezra frowned. "...What message?"

His other self's grin widened.

"The throne was never empty."

Ezra's breath caught.

And then— the monastery bells rang.

Loud. Hollow. Warning.

Ezra's head snapped toward the entrance.

His other self tilted his head, still unbothered. "Looks like she wasn't the only one who noticed you woke up."

Ezra exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders.

Fine.

He could deal with cryptic messages later.

Right now, he had a bigger problem.

And judging by the sound of approaching footsteps —

It was about to walk through that door.