The sky was black, a void where even the stars dared not shine. Cold wind howled through the ruins of a world I no longer belonged to. I was dead.
And yet, I could think. I could feel. I could remember the agony of my final moments—fire in my lungs, steel through my chest, the mocking laughter of my executioners. The betrayal. The hatred. My name had been carved into history, but not as a hero. No, they called me a villain. A tyrant. A monster.
But the dead do not stay buried forever.
A voice tore through the abyss, neither kind nor cruel, but absolute.
"Rise."
I gasped, choking on air I had no right to breathe. My body was weak, trembling. Not the one I remembered. My hands were small, my skin smooth, untouched by war. A child's body. A fresh start.
Memories flooded my mind—memories that were not mine. This was not my world. The sky burned red with twin suns, the trees towered like ancient gods, and magic crackled in the air like a storm waiting to break. I was someone else now. No, I was me, but remade. Reforged.
A second chance.
The thought was intoxicating. If fate had given me another roll of the dice, then this time, I would not fall. This time, I would not be betrayed. This time… I would take everything.
But first, I needed to survive.
The rustling of leaves. The snap of a twig. Eyes watching me from the darkness.
Something was coming.