Despite the pain from lifting even the tiniest finger, Kieran managed to curl his trembling and broken hands into a fist. His jaw was set in a fine line when all he wanted to lash out, to answer all their questions, to tear through the men holding him, and to make Maximus regret everything.
When there was still no response, Maximus smirked and turned towards the guards in the room. "Grab him. There's only one person that can provide the answers we seek."
Kieran was still numb, too disoriented to resist, and too exhausted to fight back as the men dragged him out of the room. The rage that had burned through him earlier now simmered and what was left was a man with nothing but his fury, his memories, and his thirst for revenge.
As they moved him through the halls, eyes followed them. The servants, the men—everyone watched with quiet interest and even whispered among themselves, but no one dared to approach.
Kieran barely noticed the people around him as his mind was consumed by thoughts of how long it had been since he died and how much had changed.
But then, as they neared the staircase leading up to the third floor, something caught Kieran's eye. From a distance, a woman stood at the top of the staircase, watching him.
Her features were sharp and regal and were framed by the light coming from the window. But there was something about her that made Kieran's chest tighten. How could he not know her?
She was the Princess, Ariadne.
Maximus's only and beloved daughter, the one he had heard whispers about before the war. Their eyes met and in that split second, the world seemed to freeze.
Kieran's heart pounded in his chest as an overwhelming urge to get to her surged through him. He wanted to climb the walls, tear down everything in his path, and rip her apart for what her father had done.
But then, even through the fog of pain and rage, there was something else, something calm but strong. It was a connection, unseen and unknown, but undeniable like an invisible thread tugging gently between him and something… or someone.
Unable to look away, Ariadne stood frozen with her breath caught in her throat. She felt a chill run down her spine, but it wasn't just fear. It was something deeper, something she couldn't name. It was the intensity in his gaze, the anger and hatred that sent a rush of cold dread through her.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to understand the sensation twisting inside her. The same one that had sparked alive the night before when she heard his screams of agony.
For a brief moment, it felt as if the very air around them crackled with uncertainty. But then, as if breaking some invisible connection, Kieran was roughly shoved forward. His eyes finally broke from hers, but the impact of that brief moment lingered as he was dragged out of the building and away from her sight.
Ariadne couldn't shake off the cold feeling either. She gripped the railing tightly with both hands as her heart continued beating erratically. Her mind raced and she couldn't explain what had just happened.
That feeling—the rush of energy, the fear, and the undeniable power that had radiated from him. It unsettled her and just as the previous night, she had felt it deep in her core.
She only knew him to be the prisoner from the outside, the one they had found in the rain. But she also knew there was something about him she couldn't quite grasp, something that tugged at a string deep within her, pulling too tight and thrumming with a strange and haunting familiarity.
Why did he look at her like that?
The unmistakable hatred and recognition she had seen in his eyes made her stomach twist. Was he one of the very ones her father had been hunting for years? Where did he come from? And what was that strange connection she felt between them?
*°•°•°•°•*
HOLLOWMERE~WITCH DOMINION
•••THE TEMPLE OF ASHARA•••
The Temple was hidden deep in the forest of Virethane and surrounded by old trees and thick fog. It was a sacred, almost forgotten place hidden outside the pack's territory.
Inside, the air felt heavy with magic. The walls were inscribed with glowing runes, and in the center stood a wide stone basin filled with shimmering, silver-blue water. It came from an ancient spring, a sacred water known to cleanse and heal both body and spirit.
On arrival, Kieran was dragged into the middle of the room, barely conscious. He had no idea where he was, only that he wasn't in the cold, dark cell anymore. Blinking slowly, he looked around, though his swollen eyelids made it difficult to see.
His body ached from the inside out, and every breath felt like fire in his lungs. But then, he could feel the thick and strange air around him.
"I see you're not alone," Ashara said to Maximus, her eyes fixed on Kieran. She was the High Priestess and last living Sorceress of the Old Ways.
"No, I am not." He replied and turned to the guards, signaling them to leave. He was now left with his most trusted warriors. "I come seeking for answers."
Ashara watched quietly and then smiled to herself. She had been waiting for this moment for years—ever since the day he died, his light vanishing from the world like a flame snuffed out by fate. But she knew it wouldn't be forever.
And when she first sensed his soul-stirring again, reborn into a new and younger body, she had felt it like a spark in the wind, quiet but undeniable.
Now, as he knelt before her, battered and broken but still alive, she saw beyond the wounds and silence. She saw the truth and pain buried deep within, the same spirit, the same blood. He had returned… just as the prophecy said he would.
And though she showed no sign of recognition, her heart whispered, "Welcome back, Drakhaal Kierantheos Ignisraith Pyro'thar, the Drakalon King."
"I need answers." Maximus' voice broke in. "He appeared out of nowhere and has refused to speak."
"You will get your answers, but first, we need to perform the cleansing ritual." She gestured for her attendants to prepare the cleansing ritual, and then turned to the other two. "Undress him,"
They removed Kieran's clothes, revealing his wounds and broken skin. His body had been pushed beyond its limit. Normally, someone like him, a true Drakalon, would heal quickly, but his powers were still asleep, and his body had no strength left.
The attendants slowly lowered him into the sacred water and as soon as it touched his body, the water rippled around him like it recognized who he was.
A faint glow spread through the basin, and Kieran's breathing slowed as his body began to relax. The cool water washed away blood and dirt, but also something more, pain, confusion, and weakness.
Ashara began to chant in an ancient tongue while moving her hands gently above the water. The light grew stronger, wrapping around Kieran like a soft blanket.
His breathing slowed.
The pain dulled.
And the healing had begun.
His head lolled back slightly and for a moment, the pain in his chest, his broken ribs, the burns, the split lips… they all faded. Not gone, not healed completely, but it eased just enough for him to feel the shift happening inside.
He heard her voice then, a woman, chanting softly in a language he didn't understand but somehow… did. Ashara. He didn't know her name, but something in him did.
As her voice rose, the water around him soothed and burned all at once. His vision blurred, not from pain this time, but from something else. A sudden pressure in his mind. A memory trying to wake.
He gasped and clenched his jaw as his fingers twitched at the edges of the basin. He wasn't ready, his body and soul weren't ready, but the water didn't care. It was waking him—whether he liked it or not.
Kieran's heartbeat quickened and for a split second, he saw fire. Dark scales. Golden fur. A roar on a mountaintop soaked in blood. Then, everything went dark again.
But he wasn't afraid.
He felt… calmer like the worst part had passed. And for the first time since his return, he didn't feel like a ghost trapped in someone else's body.
He felt… real.