The throne room loomed around Kaelen, its black stone walls swallowing sound, the flickering blue flames casting unnatural shadows. The silence felt ancient, heavy, expectant.

He stared at the figure seated upon the throne—himself, yet not himself.

The Kaelen of the past. The forgotten version.

His mind screamed that it wasn’t real, that this was some illusion, a deception meant to unravel him.

But his soul knew otherwise.

His hands clenched into fists. His breathing slowed.

The weight of the truth pressed against him.

“I was here before.” The words felt foreign on his tongue, but he knew them to be true.

The Other Kaelen—the one standing beside him, watching in quiet patience—nodded. “Yes.”

Kaelen exhaled sharply. “I sat on that throne.”

Another nod.

His throat tightened. “Why don’t I remember?”

The Kaelen on the throne, the one clad in silver armor, the one with hollow eyes, finally spoke:

“Because you chose to forget.”

Kaelen’s pulse thundered in his ears. “That’s not possible.”

The seated Kaelen tilted his head slightly. “Isn’t it?”

Memories stirred. Faint. Faded. He tried to reach for them, but they slipped through his fingers like sand.

A battle. A war. The artifact, resting in his hands. A decision.

Kaelen gritted his teeth. “Tell me, then. Tell me what I forgot.”

The Other Kaelen beside him shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

Kaelen turned to him, frustration bubbling beneath his skin. “Then how does it work?”

“You don’t need to be told,” the Other Kaelen said softly. “You need to remember.”

Kaelen turned back to the throne, his grip tightening on his sword. “And if I don’t want to?”

The seated Kaelen let out a low, empty laugh. “Then you will never leave this place.”

The words sent a chill down his spine.

He had felt trapped before, in endless battles, in twisting corridors of magic, in nightmares he couldn’t escape.

But never like this.

Never so completely.

Kaelen squared his shoulders, pushing down the unease creeping into his bones. “Then I’ll force myself to remember.”

The Kaelen on the throne leaned forward slightly, the silver of his eyes catching the eerie torchlight. “Then begin.”

The world shattered around him.

One moment, he was standing in the throne room. The next—

He was somewhere else.

A battlefield. Not the one from before.

This one was different. Older. Darker.

The sky was an unnatural shade of crimson, streaked with violet lightning. The air smelled of burned metal and magic, thick and suffocating.

And the ground—littered with bodies.

Kaelen stood among them, his boots sinking into the blood-soaked earth.

He knew this place.

Not from stories. Not from dreams.

From memory.

Screams echoed through the wind. Swords clashed in the distance. Fires raged across broken structures, illuminating the ruins of a great city—one he should have recognized.

But the truth twisted in his mind, unwilling to surface.

Then—

A figure approached him through the smoke.

Not a soldier.

Not an enemy.

A woman.

She walked with purpose, her dark robes flowing like liquid shadow. Her eyes—the same silver as his own—locked onto him, filled with something he didn’t understand.

Kaelen’s heart pounded.

This wasn’t just any woman.

He knew her.

He had always known her.

She stopped before him. The firelight danced across her face, and she finally spoke:

“You promised me, Kaelen.”

His breath hitched.

Her voice—it was in his bones.

But he didn’t remember her name.

He opened his mouth, but no words came.

Her expression didn’t change. “You don’t remember, do you?”

Kaelen shook his head, his chest tightening. “I—”

She stepped closer. “You took the artifact,” she whispered. “You swore to protect it.”

His vision blurred.

The artifact. The cube. The thing he and his companions had risked everything to find—

Had it been his all along?

The woman reached out, brushing her fingers against his temple. A whisper of magic flooded through him.

And then, suddenly—

He remembered her name.

Seris.

His voice trembled. “Seris.”

Her expression softened. Just for a moment. “Yes.”

He gasped as more memories slammed into him.

He and Seris—fighting side by side.
The artifact—not as a relic, but as a weapon.
A decision—one that cost them everything.

The war.

The throne.

His own self-imposed exile.

And then—the final piece.

He hadn’t just used the artifact.

He had sealed it away.

And in doing so—he had erased himself.

He had made himself forget.

Kaelen stumbled back, gasping for breath.

Seris watched him, sadness in her silver eyes. “Do you see now?”

His mind reeled.

The artifact was never lost.

It had always been his.

And now—

It was calling him back.

The battlefield faded, and Kaelen was back in the throne room.

His legs nearly gave out beneath him.

The Kaelen on the throne watched in silence. Waiting.

The Other Kaelen beside him—his guide, his reflection—nodded. “Now you understand.”

Kaelen’s breath came in short, sharp gasps. His hands trembled.

He looked up at his past self.

“You sealed it away,” Kaelen whispered. “You gave up everything to do it.”

The throne-bound Kaelen finally spoke. “And now you must decide.”

Kaelen swallowed hard. “Decide what?”

The flames flickered. The shadows twisted.

The throne itself seemed to pulse.

“You’ve spent your life running from your past,” his former self said. “Now that you remember, will you take your place?”

Kaelen stared at the massive seat of power, the weight of destiny pressing against him.

If he sat upon it—he would become what he once was.

If he refused—he would remain who he had become.

The throne waited.

Seris’ voice echoed in his mind. “You promised me.”

Kaelen took a step forward.

Then another.

And another.

Until he stood before the throne.

The choice—

His choice—

Would change everything.

To be continued...