Chapter 8: The Prince Who Drowned Twice.

"Kael, here. This is for you,"

A soft child's voice drifted through the air like a breeze through glass.

Kaelith turned instinctively and froze.

Just a few feet away stood a little boy with tousled black hair and wide, glowing amber eyes.

The boy looked… like him. A younger version of himself.

He was smiling faintly, holding out a delicate wildflower. But the hand reaching out to give him that flower—Kaelith couldn't see the face. It was hazy, shifting, as if wrapped in fog.

Before he could step closer, the world ripped apart.

He was somewhere else now.

No, not somewhere. Somewhen.

Kaelith saw his own body, lifeless and heavy—being dragged across dirt and stone.

Voices echoed around him, sharp and cruel, as hands tossed his body into the dark river like garbage.

He tried to scream, to run toward himself. But nothing moved.

He was trapped.

"Done with this piece," one voice said coldly.

"Virelle did a great job, don't you think?"

A second voice answered with a chuckle.

"Of course. The 'great warlock prince' betraying the his lover and marry that bastard Prince… You thought we'd just let that go?"

"I thought… weren't they…"

"Does it matter?"

And their voice was cut of.

Everything collapsed.

A sudden, freezing pressure wrapped around his chest as the world spun violently.

Kaelith plunged into icy darkness.

Water swallowed him whole.

He kicked. Struggled. Reached for the surface.

But something grabbed him.

Hands? Magic? Memories? Monsters? Sharks?

They yanked him deeper, dragging him toward the bottom like an anchor made of guilt and betrayal.

He couldn't breathe.

He couldn't see.

He couldn't scream.

Only drown.

On the bed, Kaelith twitched.

His fingers gripped the sheets.

A small, pained frown creased his face as if haunted by something he couldn't name.

And in the moonlight spilling through his chamber window

his amber eyes flickered open.

He blinked once. Twice. The ceiling above him slowly came into focus, unfamiliar yet now claimed as his own.

His body felt heavy, as if the dream had left weight behind.

A soft gasp broke the silence.

He turned his head slightly and saw Mira.

She stood a few feet away, half-hidden by the shadows near the chamber door, her brown hair tied neatly, fingers clutching the hem of her apron like she wasn't sure if she should run or stay.

"Mira?" Kaelith croaked, voice rough from sleep… or whatever that dream had been.

She stepped forward immediately. "My Lord, forgive me… You were… restless."

Her voice was gentle but laced with worry. "You were thrashing. Whispering things. Names I didn't know."

'How did I end up here?' he asked himself and sat up slowly, dragging a hand down his face.

Sweat clung to his skin, and his heart still thudded like a war drum in his chest.

"I… don't remember," he lied softly.

He remembered everything; the flower, the river, the voices, Virelle and how he was drowning.

Mira didn't press him, but she knew some felt different from her Lord. Instead, she quietly poured water into a cup from a nearby tray and brought it to him.

"You should drink, My Lord. You look… pale." She was right, he looked like he just saw a ghost.

Kaelith took the cup without a word. Their fingers brushed briefly, and Mira's eyes widened but she said nothing.

She was shocked that her Lord didn't draw away is hands in disgust like he always do.

Kaelith drank slowly, eyes never leaving hers.

"You heard names?" he asked suddenly.

She nodded, hesitating. "Just… one or two. I couldn't make sense of it. You kept whispering something like 'Don't leave' or 'That wasn't me.' And then you called out… Kaelith, you name My Lord." 

Kaelith tensed.

"…I see."

Silence stretched between them, not awkward just thick with unspoken things.

Mira bowed her head. "I'll bring fresh sheets, My Lord. You should rest a little more if you can."

As she turned to go, Kaelith called softly, "Mira."

She stopped, "Yes My Lord?" 

"How did I end up here?" He asked.

"You fainted again My Lord and Prince Caelum brought you here." She answered, her head hanged low. 

Kaelith sighed.

"…Thank you. For staying to look after me."

She nodded here head shocked to hear those words. "My Lord… you should try to sleep," she said gently. "The healers say your strength hasn't fully returned."

Kaelith let out a humorless chuckle. "Sleep," he repeated, shaking his head slightly. "Seems like a waste of time when I can't even tell who I am anymore."

Mira blinked, unsure if she had misheard. She stepped closer. "My Lord?"

He looked up at her then, eyes sharper than usual but rimmed with exhaustion. "Tell me, Mira… how long have you served me?"

"Eight Moonturns, My Lord." She answered quietly. "Since the day I turned sixteen and was assigned to your household. Why?"

"Because," Kaelith said, voice quieter now, "I need someone who remembers the Kaelith everyone else talks about."

Mira stood still for a moment, watching him carefully.

"There are gaps," he continued, "in my memory. Moments I should know, people I should remember. Virelle. Adriel. Even myself. It's like I've stepped into a story halfway through and I'm expected to play a part I don't understand."

"Do you think you've been cursed?" she asked softly and confused.

Kaelith shook his head. "Maybe. Or maybe I just… woke up different. But I know one thing: something isn't right."

'Half truth is better than a full lie.' he thought to himself.

And looked up at her again, eyes suddenly sharper. "I need help, Mira. Someone I can trust. I want to find out the truth about what happened before I was found in the river. About the poisoning. About Virelle. Everything."

Mira met his gaze, something firm settling in her posture. "What do you want me to do?"

"Tell me how you started working for me. Who I was before the river. Before all of… this," he gestured vaguely, "And tell me about her. Virelle."

Mira hesitated, but when she saw the genuine confusion in his expression tinged with pain.

"My Lord you were different," she began quietly. "Not unkind, just… cold. Distant. Always thinking. Always one step ahead. You only let people see what you wanted them to."

Kaelith raised an eyebrow. "That doesn't sound very likable."

She smiled faintly. "That's the thing. You didn't care about being liked. But you were respected. Feared, even. Some say it was because you were a warlock who trained with one of the old ones. Others say it's because you survived things most people wouldn't have walked away from."

"And you?" Kaelith asked, voice even. "What do you think?"

"I think…" Mira paused, thoughtful. "I think you carry your pain too well. Like armor. I started working for you 8 moonturns. You never remembered my name. But you protected me once when a guard accused me of stealing. You didn't even look at me. You just said, 'If she stole, it's because she was hungry. Feed her.' And walked away."

Kaelith blinked. "I said that?"

She nodded. "You never mentioned it again. But from that moment, I decided I'd stay by your side. No matter what."