Althar woke with a start, the soft morning light filtering through the curtains of his temporary room in the inn. His sleep had been restless, dreams filled with images he couldn't quite place—fragments of a life he no longer remembered, yet still felt deeply connected to. The woman's face was the last thing on his mind before he fell into a restless slumber, and now, as he awoke, her words echoed in his mind.
"To feel."
He stood from the bed, the weight of the night pressing down on him. His body moved on autopilot, carrying him to the small washbasin where he splashed cold water on his face. The chill stung his skin, but it did little to clear the fog in his mind. The emotions he had been struggling to suppress were still there, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest provocation to break free.
His heart pounded in his chest, a steady reminder that something within him was shifting, something he could no longer deny.
The woman's words continued to resonate, but they weren't the only thing on his mind. There was something else, something far more pressing—his kingdom. His throne. The world he had been reincarnated into was filled with magic, mystery, and dangers far beyond what he had expected. Yet, he had not forgotten the reason for his existence. He was the king, and his purpose—his duty—was to rule. To regain control over what was rightfully his.
But as he stared at his reflection in the water, the face of a stranger stared back. A man who wore the crown of a king but who didn't fully understand what it meant to be one. A king without a heart.
No, Althar thought, his fists clenching. I will not allow this weakness to define me. Not now, not ever.
The city outside was buzzing with activity when Althar finally emerged. He moved through the streets with purpose, his eyes sharp as they scanned the crowd. The kingdom he had once known—its vastness, its power—was slipping through his fingers. He had to reclaim it. He had to solidify his power, regardless of the emotions that threatened to consume him.
There were whispers in the city, rumors of a rising rebellion—unrest that Althar had hoped would remain a mere spark. But the reports were becoming more frequent, and the fires of discontent were growing larger with each passing day. His kingdom, his people, were slipping into chaos, and Althar knew he couldn't afford to ignore it any longer.
His first stop was the council hall. A place that had once been his domain, where decisions were made, where power was wielded with precision and cold calculation. But now, as he entered the grand hall, the familiar sight of his advisors and officials did little to calm the storm within him.
"Your Majesty," the head of the council, a tall man with a neatly trimmed beard, stood as Althar entered. "We've received troubling reports. The rebellion in the east grows bolder by the day. They're gaining support, and it's spreading beyond the borders."
Althar's jaw tightened. "How many?"
"Not enough to threaten the kingdom yet, but—"
"But enough to cause concern," Althar finished, his voice cold. "I will not tolerate any form of rebellion. Do whatever is necessary to crush them."
The council members exchanged uneasy glances, but no one dared to challenge his command. He was the king, after all. They would obey.
One of the younger advisors, a woman with sharp eyes and an air of uncertainty, spoke up. "There are reports of... unusual occurrences. Strange magic, sightings of creatures we've never encountered before. It's almost as though something is driving the rebellion from the shadows."
Althar raised an eyebrow. "You're saying it's not just a political movement?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. It's something... darker. And we believe it's tied to an ancient force. One that's been dormant for centuries."
Althar's thoughts immediately turned to his own past—his previous life, where ancient forces, gods, and long-forgotten powers had played a part in shaping the world. But this... this felt different. This was not something he understood.
"How soon can we investigate?" he demanded.
The advisor lowered her head. "We've already sent scouts, Your Majesty. But they've reported back with little information. The creatures are unlike anything we've seen. They seem... sentient, and they don't belong to any known race or species."
Althar's mind raced. "Then we have no time to waste. Send more scouts. And gather the magic users. We will need their power to deal with whatever this is."
The council members nodded in agreement, but the unease was palpable. Althar could see it in their eyes—the fear of the unknown. He could feel it, too, gnawing at the edges of his resolve.
As the meeting ended, Althar made his way to the throne room, his steps heavy with the weight of the decisions he had just made. The rebellion, the strange magic—none of it made sense. But what truly unsettled him was how he felt about it. In the past, he would have dismissed such things as beneath him, as distractions. But now, it stirred something inside him—a need to protect, a desire to fight.
Feelings, he thought bitterly. I must remain focused. The kingdom comes first.
The evening found him once again walking the streets, but this time, there was no purpose in his steps other than to escape the storm inside him. The quiet of the city at night was a temporary reprieve from the chaos that swirled in his heart. But even in the silence, the turmoil remained.
Althar found himself near the fountain again. The familiar sight of the water and the soft glow of the lanterns only served to remind him of her. The woman. The one who had awakened something in him he didn't know existed.
He had told himself he was done with her. That his duties as a king, his pursuit of power, would leave no room for distractions. And yet, there she was, standing by the fountain as if summoned by his thoughts.
"You're always here," he said, his voice softer than he had intended.
She turned, her eyes meeting his with that same unreadable expression. "I could say the same about you."
"I've... been busy," he replied, though it felt like a lie even to his own ears.
She took a step toward him, her gaze studying him carefully. "You can't hide from yourself forever, Althar. The rebellion, the strange magic—it's all part of something bigger. But none of that matters if you don't face what's inside you first."
He swallowed, the words she spoke cutting deeper than he expected. "I don't have time for this."
"Then you'll lose. Not just the rebellion, but yourself."
Her words struck a chord deep within him. He didn't want to admit it, but she was right. He was caught in a storm, torn between the duty he had to his kingdom and the emotions that seemed to be ripping him apart. The rebellion was a symptom of something far more dangerous, something Althar couldn't yet understand.
But for the first time in a long while, Althar was beginning to understand that the heart of the storm wasn't just outside of him—it was inside him, too.