Echoes of the Past

The walls of my chambers were silent, but my mind was anything but. The flickering candlelight cast restless shadows, twisting in the corners like ghosts waiting to pounce. My hands were still unsteady, the sensation of my uncontrolled power lingering in my bones. No matter how many times I tried to slow my breathing, to push the memory of the courtyard from my mind, it remained—just like all the other memories I wished I could forget.

Sleep did not come easily. When it finally did, it was not the peaceful kind.

It never was.

The nightmare came as it always did, sharp and merciless, dragging me back to the moment everything had been taken from me.

I stood in the grand hall of the Priesthood of Knowledge, the scent of aged parchment and incense thick in the air. The great golden sigil of the order gleamed on the marble floor beneath my feet, a symbol of all we were meant to protect. The voices of scholars and priests filled the vast chamber, debating, teaching, and passing down wisdom from ages long past. It had always felt safe here—like home.

Then the doors burst open.

The torches along the walls flickered as a wave of cold air swept through the hall. Figures clad in black and crimson stormed in, their faces hidden behind darkened helms, their weapons gleaming in the dim light.

The screams began.

I felt my master's hand on my shoulder before I could move.

"Aric," he said, his voice firm but urgent. "Listen to me."

Master Aldric had always been a pillar of strength—wise, patient, unshaken even in the face of danger. But as he turned to me now, there was something in his eyes I had never seen before. Fear.

"You must run."

I shook my head, panic rising in my chest. "But—"

"There is no time." His grip tightened. "They are here to destroy everything. You must survive."

The attackers moved like specters, striking down anyone in their path. Scrolls and books were tossed into the air, pages torn and scattered like autumn leaves. The sacred library, the heart of the priesthood, was set aflame, and the scent of burning parchment filled the air.

I tried to stay beside him, but Aldric shoved me toward the hidden passage behind the altar.

"Go!"

I hesitated a moment too long.

One of the invaders lunged toward me, sword raised, and I barely had time to react before Master Aldric stepped in front of me, intercepting the blow with his own staff. The clash of metal against wood rang through the chamber.

And then, the moment that haunted me most of all—

A second attacker came from behind. Master Aldric saw him too late.

The blade sank into his side.

I remember the way he gasped, the brief flicker of pain in his eyes. But instead of falling, he turned, using the last of his strength to send a shockwave of energy through the room, knocking the attackers back just long enough for me to flee.

His final words echoed in my ears as I stumbled through the passage.

"Live, Aric."

I woke up gasping, my heart slamming against my ribs like a caged beast. My sheets were tangled around me, damp with sweat, and for a moment, I wasn't in the royal chambers of Valerya. I was back there. In the ruins of the only home I had ever known.

Smoke burned my lungs, choking me even though the fire had long since died. The screams still rang in my ears—distant but sharp, like echoes from a nightmare that refused to fade. But it wasn't just a nightmare. It was real.

I dragged a shaky hand through my hair, my fingers trembling. The moonlight streamed through the grand windows of my chamber, illuminating the intricate designs of my new prison—a gilded cage dressed as a palace. The thick velvet curtains, the polished marble floors, the golden chandelier above me—they all screamed wealth and power. And yet, in this moment, I would've traded all of it just to hear my master's voice one more time.

Master Aldric.

The name alone sent a fresh wave of pain through me. He had been my teacher, my guide, my only family within the Priesthood of Knowledge. And he had died protecting me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, but that only made the memories sharper. The day the Priesthood fell, the flames swallowed everything. The halls of wisdom, the scrolls of ancient knowledge—reduced to ash in a single night. I had tried to fight, to stand my ground, but I was just a boy then, barely able to hold a staff properly. I was nothing compared to the warriors who stormed the sacred halls, cutting down scholars like they were mere obstacles in their path.

And then, Aldric was there. His presence had always been steady, like an unshakable pillar in the storm. His hands, calloused from years of study and hardship, gripped my shoulders as he pushed me back, his voice calm despite the chaos around us.

"Run, Aric. You must live."

I had refused. I had begged. But he wouldn't listen. He turned, his back to me, facing the men who came with steel and fire.

I heard the clash of metal, the desperate struggle. And then—silence.

I never saw him fall. By the time I dared to look back, his body was already on the ground, his lifeblood staining the sacred floors of the temple.

That was the last time I ever called anywhere home.

I exhaled sharply, shaking off the memory before it could drag me under completely. My hands were still trembling. I clenched them into fists. This wasn't the time to be weak. Not here. Not now.

I forced myself to stand, my legs still unsteady as I crossed the chamber. My reflection stared back at me from the ornate mirror—a boy with tired eyes, dark circles beneath them, and a face that barely looked like it belonged to a prince. I traced the faint scar on my forearm, a reminder of that night, of the fire, of everything I had lost.

I had spent seven years wondering why. Why had the Priesthood been destroyed? Why had I survived when so many had died? And now, standing here in the halls of Valerya as its thirteenth prince, the questions burned hotter than ever.

Did the queen know?

Had she seen something in me beyond the orphaned scholar, beyond the boy who had once lived in the shadows of the great temple?

Or was I just a pawn in another game—another piece to be moved on the board of kings and queens?

I let out a dry, humorless chuckle, rubbing my face. Oh, dear God, Aric, you really know how to bring down the mood.

If my master were here, he'd probably whack me over the head with one of his dusty old tomes and tell me to stop wallowing in the past. He always said knowledge was a gift, but only if I used it.

I sighed and turned away from the mirror, shaking off the remnants of my nightmare. I couldn't let the past chain me down. Not when the present was already a battlefield waiting to swallow me whole.

The queen had given me this chance—a place among the princes, a path to something greater. I wasn't about to waste it.

Even if I had to fight alone.