The execution block's stone bit into Ethan's knees. Each groove held memories of decades of blood soaked deep into the rock. Three centuries of his family's work, and here he knelt, about to end it all.
"Look at him! The executioner's son, finally getting what he deserves!"
The crowd's laughter cut deeper than any blade. Ethan raised his head. A sea of twisted faces stared back at him.
Behind the block, nobles lounged in cushioned chairs like spectators at a theater. Silk robes caught morning light, colors of deep purples and royal blues worth more than most commoners earned in a lifetime. Gold chains glinted at their throats and jeweled rings flashed as they pointed and whispered.
Below them, common folk pressed against wooden barriers. Farmers in rough brown cloth. Merchants in simple tunics. Workers with dirt under their nails as they craned their necks over each other, but their eyes burned with the same hunger.
All united in wanting him dead.
The irony almost made him smile. Almost.
"Funny how things work out," he whispered. His father had stood on this platform hundreds of times. Never as the condemned.
The executioner stepped forward. A young man, hands trembling. Not his father Elkar, who had been dead for years. But this stranger wore the same black hood, carried the same heavy axe, but fear leaked through his stance.
"You know the charges," the magistrate called out. "Treason against the crown. Spreading lies about the royal family, claiming they're possessed by demons."
Demons. The word left ash in his mouth only if they knew he spoke truth.
Three months ago, he'd burst into the throne room with proof.
"They're possessed!" he'd shouted, clutching evidence that should have changed everything. "The royal family has been taken by demons!"
The court laughed. They called him mad and threw him into the dungeons.
Now he knelt here.
"Any last words?" the executioner asked.
Ethan's throat closed for he had too many things unsaid and too many people he'd failed.
Maya's face flashed through his mind. Golden eyes wide with terror as demon-touched guards dragged her away. She'd believed him and died for it.
"I should have saved you," he whispered, vision blurring.
His father's voice echoed from memory: "A Cole serves the crown's justice, son. We carry out the king's will, no matter what."
But what justice lived when innocents died and evil ruled?
"I wish..." His voice cracked. "I wish I could do it all again."
Ethan screamed. Not from pain, but desperation. A wild, impossible hope.
"Let me try again!" The words tore from his throat. "Let me save them!"
The axe rose. Sunlight caught the blade's edge. Beautiful and terrible.
Time crawled. Ethan heard his heartbeat. Felt rough wood under his knees. Tasted salt from tears he didn't know he shed.
The blade fell.
But instead of darkness, golden light exploded around him. It poured through him, but brought no pain. It felt like hope itself.
Images flashed. His first sword lesson. His mother's smile. Meeting Maya at the Academy. Thirty years compressed into seconds.
The light blazed brighter. Reality cracked and time shattered.
Everything broke apart.
**********
Ethan woke gasping.
Sunlight streamed through a small window. Porridge scented the air. Birds sang outside like nothing had happened.
He tried to sit up but his body felt wrong. Too small and too light. Like wearing clothes cut for someone else.
"What in the Light?" His voice pitched higher than it should.
He looked to his sides and saw a mirror.
The mirror!!!.
Each step fought him as his legs wouldn't cooperate. Balance felt foreign, like learning to walk again.
The reflection froze him in place.
Sixteen years old. Smooth skin. Messy black hair and green eyes staring back in shock.
"No way." The words came out as breath.
But he knew this face. This room. This day.
The morning before Academy entrance exams. Fourteen years ago.
Memories crashed over him like a flood. Thirty years trying to fit into a sixteen-year-old brain. The demons. The corruption. Maya's death. His execution.
All of it had happened. Would happen. Unless...
"Unless I change it."
He tried to move like before. His body rebelled. Memories of a master swordsman trapped in weak teenage muscles. Like writing with a broken hand.
But he lived. He was young. He had another chance.
"Ethan!" His mother's voice drifted from downstairs. "Breakfast is ready!"
The sound hit like a fist to his chest. He grabbed the desk to stay upright.
Mom.
Dead for eight years. Killed in the first demon attack on the capital. He'd held her broken body in the ruins of this same house, felt her final breath.
"Coming!" he called back, voice cracking.
He walked to the window on unsteady legs. The village spread below. Same view from his childhood mornings. People living normal lives, unaware of what approached.
Of the corruption, the war and the deaths
But Ethan knew. This time, he could stop it.
He pressed his palm against cool glass. "I'll save you," he whispered to the peaceful village. "All of you."
Starting with Maya. Starting with the Academy. Starting today.
"Ethan! We're waiting!"
He drew a deep breath. Tried to look like a normal sixteen-year-old instead of a thirty-year-old man trapped in a child's body.
"Coming, Mom!"
But as he headed for the door, one thought burned in his mind.
This time would be different. This time, he wouldn't fail.