The scroll unraveled like smoke in his hands. Symbols moved across the parchment, alive, shifting. The story of Strigoilia unfolded not in words, but in visions.
He saw his father, regal and stern, crowned in iron and garnet. He saw battles fought in moonlight, alliances sealed with blood. He saw Amalia—or someone like her—beside him, always beside him, in every life that came before.
Then the serpent.
A masked figure cloaked in shadows, whispering to his brother. Poisoning loyalty. Twisting legacy into ruin.
Alexandrov's heart pounded. He remembered the betrayal now. It had been family. Blood.
He clutched the scroll and felt its fire burn into his palm. His fate wasn't just rebirth. It was reclamation.