Caius stared at the kneeling knight, his heart pounding. The title Your Highness felt like a blade against his skin—foreign, painful, and dangerous.
"I'm not—" His voice came out hoarse, uncertain. "I'm not a prince anymore."
Garran didn't rise. His weathered face was unreadable in the dim torchlight of the crypt. "Blood doesn't forget, boy. You are Caius Evernight, last of the royal line." His gaze hardened. "And that means you have a duty."
Duty. Caius almost laughed. What duty? The kingdom was gone. The people were either dead or enslaved. Evernight had fallen, and he had been powerless to stop it.
"You're wasting your time." Caius forced his hands into fists, as if gripping the words tighter would make them hurt less. "I'm just a survivor now."
Garran's expression didn't change. Instead, he stood, slowly, his movements deliberate. "Is that what you think?" He gestured toward the ruined city beyond the crypt's entrance. "Look around you. What do you see?"
Caius clenched his jaw. "A graveyard."
"A kingdom," Garran corrected. "A broken one, yes. But not dead. Not yet."
Caius turned away, unwilling to meet the knight's gaze. He doesn't understand.
But Garran wasn't finished. "You survived for a reason. The Hollow Legion hunts you for a reason." He stepped forward. "And you're not just some scavenger. I saw what you did back there."
Caius stiffened. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I think you do." Garran's voice was quiet now. "The way you moved. One moment you were on the ground, the next behind the knight. That wasn't luck."
Caius exhaled sharply, his shoulders tense. He had hoped the old knight hadn't noticed.
But of course, Garran had.
"It's happened before, hasn't it?" Garran pressed. "Strange moments. Time slipping."
Caius hesitated. His instincts told him to run, to push the old knight away, to disappear back into the ruins where no one expected anything of him.
But a part of him—a part buried deep—wanted to know the truth.
Slowly, he nodded.
Garran sighed, running a hand over his beard. "Then we don't have much time."
The words sent a shiver down Caius's spine. "What do you mean?"
Garran's gaze turned grim. "You're not the only one who knows what you are."
A cold dread curled in Caius's stomach.
"The Hollow Legion has been hunting anomalies," Garran continued. "People who can manipulate time, however slightly. Most of them vanish before we can reach them. But you…" He exhaled, as if steadying himself. "You're not just another anomaly, Caius. You're something more."
Caius swallowed. "How do you know all this?"
"Because I wasn't the only knight to survive Evernight's fall." Garran's voice lowered. "There's a resistance. Small, hidden, but growing. And they need you."
Caius shook his head. "You're wrong."
"I'm not."
"I don't want any part of this!" The words escaped before he could stop them. "You think I'm some kind of savior? I'm not. I barely understand what's happening to me, and if I keep using it—" He cut himself off, shaking his head. "I don't even know what I am."
Garran studied him for a long moment. Then, finally, he said, "I do."
Caius frowned. "What?"
The knight stepped closer, his expression unreadable. "There was an old prophecy, long before the fall of Evernight. A prophecy about a bloodline intertwined with time itself."
Caius felt his breath catch.
"They called them the Timeborn," Garran said. "A line of rulers with power over time, fated to rise or fall with the kingdom itself."
Caius's pulse pounded in his ears. No. It can't be.
But deep down, something inside him knew.
He had felt it for years. The way time bent around him. The way memories came unbidden, as if whispered from the past.
Timeborn.
"You're lying," Caius whispered, but there was no weight behind the words.
Garran sighed. "I wish I were."
Silence stretched between them. Outside, the wind howled through the ruins like a lamenting ghost.
Caius sat in the cold crypt, staring at the flickering torchlight. His mind swirled with Garran's words.
Timeborn.
The word felt too heavy, too impossible. He had spent years believing he was just another survivor of Evernight's fall, just a lost soul in a ruined kingdom. Now, Garran expected him to believe he was something more? A prince? A wielder of time itself?
Garran's voice cut through his thoughts. "We can't stay here long. The Hollow Legion will be looking for you."
Caius's fingers tightened around his knee. "If they're after me, why haven't they already found me?"
"They don't know exactly who you are," Garran admitted. "Not yet. But that stunt you pulled today? It left a mark. When you tamper with time, it doesn't go unnoticed."
A chill ran down Caius's spine. He remembered the way reality had warped when he rewound time. The unnatural pull, the way his body had protested against the shift.
It hadn't just been a trick of the mind. Something real had happened.
And now, something—or someone—was watching.
Garran sheathed his sword. "We leave at dawn."
Caius blinked. "Leave? Go where?"
"To meet the resistance."
Caius hesitated. Part of him wanted to refuse. He had survived alone for so long—trusting people had only ever led to disappointment. But another part of him, the part that had spent years longing for answers, couldn't ignore this chance.
"Fine," he muttered. "But I'm not promising anything."
Garran smirked. "Good enough for now."
Finally, Caius looked up. "If this is true…" His voice was unsteady. "Then what happens next?"
Garran's eyes darkened. "Then we prepare."
"For what?"
"For war."