Remember.

Whispers sounded in Cassian's ear—fragmented voices, echoes of someone speaking to themselves in front of a mirror. These were the memories his grandfather had given him in the garden.

He could feel the weight of those emotions. The regret in his voice as he explained that he didn't want to do it—but had to. The sadness, the shame, the frustration.

And beneath it all, hope. Hope for a better future. Hope for change. Hope that Cassian could do what no one else could.

The emotions lingered, pressing against his chest even as the memory faded.

Cassian exhaled, pressing a hand against his temple.

"Does it still hurt, darling?"

Cassian blinked. His wife, Ellen, was watching him through the reflection of a large mirror, her long white hair slipping through the teeth of a silver brush. She had been worried since he arrived home covered in blood, and she hadn't left his side since.

"No, I'm fine… just a little confused."

Ellen didn't seem convinced, but she continued brushing her hair, her blue eyes filled with quiet concern.

"If you keep looking at me like that," Cassian murmured, "I may end up vanishing."

Her expression shifted slightly, first to confusion, then into something more playful.

"It can't be helped," she said, tilting her head as if appraising him. "Just look at yourself. You're so handsome. Such a well-kept appearance, black hair that seems to swallow the light, and those eyes—such beautiful golden eyes, shining like two jewels. And most importantly, you come from a decent family. What else could a woman ask for?"

Cassian chuckled. Any other man might have swelled with pride at such praise, but he could hear the teasing in her voice.

"What about my personality?" he asked.

Ellen paused as if giving it serious thought. "You're alright, I suppose."

"Just alright?"

"At least you're not boring."

Cassian laughed, rising from the bed. He strode toward her, wrapping his arms around her from behind. The floral scent of her hair filled his senses, a scent he had loved for as long as he could remember. And yet, now, it only strengthened his resolve.

"Ellen, we've known each other since we were children," he said softly. "Do you remember the first time we met?"

"I do," she said, smirking. "You were an entitled brat back then."

"Ah… well, you don't need to remember that."

She laughed, the sound light and familiar.

"You know I will always love you," he murmured, lowering his head against her shoulder.

Ellen stroked his hair, then turned his face toward hers and kissed him.

"I know," she whispered. "And I too will always love you. No matter what happens, we made the promise. And even after death, I will always love you."

Regret and sadness tightened in Cassian's chest.

They had only been married for such a short time.

But he would make the most of it while he could—make her the happiest.

---

Two weeks after that night, Cassian made his way toward the cathedral. Behind him walked his personal guards and closest companions—Lara and Fermin.

Both were tall, their steel armor pristine. Even Lara, despite being a woman, stood at the same height as Cassian. A sword rested at her waist, its polished hilt gleaming in the morning light. Her white hair and blue eyes bore a striking resemblance to Ellen's, and her pale skin made her stand out even more in the capital of Stering. She was beautiful, with an air of quiet strength.

Fermin, on the other hand, was anything but refined. Though he shared the same white hair and blue eyes, his rugged appearance and muscular build set him apart from the more polished men of the capital. While he carried himself with confidence, his rougher looks were not considered appealing by Stering's standards.

As they walked, Fermin let out a sigh. "Hey, Cassian, can I go out when you enter the cathedral? We've been coming here almost every day. I'm getting bored of waiting!"

Cassian chuckled. No other guard would have dared to make such a request—or to speak so informally.

"You can, Fermin," he said, amusement in his voice. Then he glanced at Lara. "What about you?"

"I'm fine with waiting," she said, her tone indifferent.

"Oh, Lara, you're such a good guard," Fermin teased, nudging her with a playful punch.

Lara didn't even look at him. She simply kept walking, unfazed.

As they reached the cathedral, Cassian stepped forward alone, leaving his guards behind. He entered a small room where a man was already waiting for him.

At first, Cassian was surprised. It wasn't Olfred.

The man standing before him was the one tasked with teaching him about the control of the Eyes of God.

Cassian had believed he knew every important figure within the church, yet here was proof that even he had not been privy to all of its secrets.

His lessons over the past weeks had been filled with explanations—simple yet profound. He had learned why only those born with golden eyes, rather than those who inherited them, were chosen to wield the Eyes of God. The reason was straightforward: their ability made the brain develop into a powerful mind capable of understanding and contain large amounts of knowledge. Their golden eyes were a weaker version of the true Eyes of God, making them more capable of handling the transition.

As for how people were born with golden eyes… simple they were all descendants of past wielders of the Eyes of God. And they carried the potential to pass them on, though not always. One thing was certain: if a family bore a golden-eyed child, their status would rise within the ranks of Stering's elite.

Today's lesson was about the origins of the Empire of Stering and the dream of two young men.

The first wielder had once stood alongside the first Emperor, who, at the time, had been nothing more than an ordinary young man. Together, they had forged a path to power. With the wielder's knowledge and the Emperor's intelligence and charisma, they built an army that shaped history.

A simple dream had changed the course of history, and now Cassian was experiencing the fruit of their legacy years after they had accomplished it.

And thanks to them now, he also possessed a dream, though not as extravagant. It could change history as well.

The lesson ended, leaving Cassian deep in thought.

As he and Lara walked back through the streets of the capital, she veered off toward the training grounds, while Cassian returned home—to Ellen.

That night, as darkness fell, Cassian held Ellen close. They exchanged a kiss before drifting into sleep.

_ _ _

The next morning, Cassian awoke to a familiar yet unfamiliar surroundings.

The ceiling above him was aged wood, its surface uneven, worn by time. Dust drifted lazily through the dim light.

Stone pressed against his left arm.

His hand moved to his face, brushing against his skin. Pale. Not dark gray. Pale.

His stomach twisted.

Slowly, he turned his head.

Empty.

His bed was no longer the grand mattress he was accustomed to. The luxurious room filled with ornate furniture and rich fabrics was gone. The large mirror, the closets overflowing with clothes—gone.

But most importantly—

Ellen was nowhere to be seen.

His breath caught in his throat.

Something was wrong.