The trees had no leaves. Only cinders clung to the branches like dying memories.
Kael opened his eyes to a world burning in silence. The air reeked of smoke and blood. All around him were broken bodies—men in armor, others robed, all dead. A forest battlefield swallowed by fire and forgotten names.
But none of them were familiar.Not even his own reflection in a cracked sword near his feet.
He staggered up, the metal cold in his hand. Pain throbbed behind his eyes. His heart beat like a drum—but there was no fear. Just emptiness.
And then, from nowhere—
"Run."
The voice wasn't his. It wasn't near. It was inside.
"They know you're still alive. Don't waste time."
Kael looked down and froze.
A symbol glowed faintly on his bare chest—an intricate spiral of lines and curves, like an eye drawn by a mad god. It pulsed gold, slow and steady, with every heartbeat.
"That mark isn't just magic. It's memory."
He stumbled through the ash, over bodies, gripping the sword tighter. A scream in the distance—real this time. Horses. Men. They were coming.
"You've been erased, Kael. But the world didn't forget you. And neither did I."
"Who are you?" he gasped.
"Someone who remembers what you did."
His vision blurred, and for a moment—he saw her. A woman in white, standing in the fire. Her face was calm. Her eyes were full of sorrow.
"Who… are you?"
But she was gone before the flame reached her.
Kael ran.Ash rose in clouds behind him.And his own name, spoken by strangers, would soon mean war.