Kiraihhh

In a world where loyalty is a fragile illusion and power corrupts even the noblest of hearts, a fallen knight awakens in the body of the very prince whose kingdom he helped destroy.

Caelan, a commoner-turned-knight, devoted his life to the kingdom of Elaris—until betrayal by the man he loved, Khalid Caelum, shattered it all. Stabbed and left to die, Caelan reincarnates as Flynn Winterbell, the estranged crown prince of a rival nation. Haunted by his past life, Flynn must now navigate court politics, half-brothers with hidden motives, and the dangerous game of power—all while the man who betrayed him, now a duke, reappears at his side.

But the embers of love refuse to die. As Flynn grapples with his lingering feelings and a truth buried beneath crowns and lies, a greater threat looms—one that ties kingdoms, memories, and destiny together.

Can Flynn uncover the secrets of his death and forge a new path, or will history repeat itself?

Beneath the crown

Flynn sat in the war room, surrounded by highborn generals and trusted commanders, but his mind was elsewhere. Maps were sprawled across the long oak table, miniature flags marking skirmishes along the northern ridge. Yet all he saw were shadows shadows stretching backward into a past no one remembered but him.

‎"Your Majesty," Khalid's voice cut clean through the room.

‎Flynn's gaze snapped to him composed, dignified, every inch the loyal Duke of Winterbell. His honey-gold hair was neatly tied back, his dark armor polished to a mirror sheen. And those amber eyes… unwavering. Calculated.

‎"There have been movements near the border. We suspect raiders from the Duskwind Highlands, but nothing organized yet," Khalid reported, gesturing toward a corner of the map. "Shall we send a patrol?"

‎Flynn nodded absently. "Send Elior's men."

‎A flicker of something displeasure? crossed Khalid's face. "You would trust Lord Venstra with this task?"

‎"He's young," Flynn said calmly, "but capable. I trust him."

‎Khalid inclined his head, though his knuckles whitened around the hilt of his sword. "As you command."

‎Flynn felt it then a chill in the room that had nothing to do with the wind howling outside. Khalid was hiding something. The traveler's words echoed in his ears: he never stopped.

‎When the meeting ended, Flynn lingered behind, eyes locked on the map. He barely heard Lucian's footsteps until his half-brother was beside him.

‎"You've changed," Lucian said quietly.

‎Flynn turned to him, brow raised. "Have I?"

‎Lucian smiled faintly. "You look at Khalid like you're staring at a stranger. You used to trust him."

‎Flynn gave a hollow chuckle. "Maybe I was wrong."

‎Lucian hesitated, then lowered his voice. "There's something else. Elior sent word one of his scouts found a strange cache in the woods. Weapons, food, uniforms… unmarked, hidden deep beneath the forest floor. The craftsmanship isn't from Winterbell."

‎Flynn's stomach twisted. "Then they belong to someone else."

‎"Or someone inside," Lucian said, eyes serious.

‎Flynn met his gaze. "Keep this quiet. No one knows not until I'm sure."

‎As night fell over Winterbell, Flynn returned to his private chamber. The fireplace crackled softly, but the warmth did nothing to comfort him.

‎He opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the folded cloth.

‎An old tunic tattered and torn, bearing the sigil of Elaris. His sigil. Caelan's.

‎He ran his fingers over it, the fabric worn thin by time. The man he once was had died with fire and betrayal, yet he lived again among enemies wearing the faces of allies.

‎Flynn clenched the tunic, resolve hardening in his chest.

‎If Khalid still played his games beneath the crown… then it was time for Caelan to start playing his.

Beneath the Surface‎