Zeven lay on the broken ground, blood seeping into the dirt beneath him. His breath came in shallow, ragged bursts. His sword was shattered, his arm torn from his shoulder, lying a few feet away.
He tilted his head weakly. Through his fading vision, he saw Theo standing above him—his blade still raised, his golden eyes steady.
And beyond Theo… Ardan stepped forward.
Zeven let out a broken laugh.
"Heh… you think… this is over?" His voice was faint, trembling between rage and despair. "It's not… over…"
The words dissolved into hollow laughter. But halfway through, the sound stopped.
The world slowed down.
The chaos of battle fell silent. The air shimmered. And as his vision blurred, cherry blossoms began to fall gently from above—a sight far too peaceful for a battlefield.
Zeven blinked in confusion. "Cherry… blossoms?"
Then he heard it. A voice—soft, familiar, yet so distant it ached.
"Still chasing power, are you, Zeven? You haven't changed at all… still a fool."
Zeven's breath hitched. His eyes widened. "...That voice… Aelin?"
The petals drifted around him as the world dissolved into a haze of memories.
And then—he was a boy again.
The scent of baked bread and spice filled the air. The sound of merchants shouting over one another echoed through the busy streets of his hometown. Zeven ran through the cobbled road, laughing, holding a small wooden sword as his friends chased him.
His parents smiled from a distance—his father, a tall man in simple armor, his mother with a kind smile and soft eyes.
"Careful, Zeven!" his mother called. "Don't break that sword again!"
"I won't!" he laughed, tripping over his own feet.
His father chuckled, patting his head. "If you want to be a swordsman, boy, you'll have to learn to stay on your feet first."
Zeven grinned. "I'll be the best swordsman in the world!"
Those were simpler days.
Until one morning—everything changed.
The horns of war sounded. The monster tide had come from the north. Zeven remembered the worried faces, the way his parents held him close before leaving.
His small hands gripped his father's sleeve. "Don't go! Please… stay with me."
His father smiled gently. "Zeven, we'll come back. I promise."
His mother kissed his forehead. "Be brave, my love."
But they didn't come back.
Only his father's blood-stained sword did.
That day, Zeven's heart cracked. The world turned cold.
Years passed. Zeven trained until his hands bled. He pushed past exhaustion, past pain, past tears.
"If I become stronger… maybe no one will leave me again," he whispered each night, clutching the sword by candlelight.
And he did grow stronger. His skill with the blade soon drew attention. The baron of the town noticed him, offering him a place in his elite guard. The people began to whisper his name with respect.
But for Zeven, it was never enough.
He wanted power—power that no one could ignore.
Then, one day, she appeared.
The first time Zeven saw Aelin, she was standing in the middle of the training yard, her blade drawn, her eyes sharp as moonlight.
"So, you're the famous swordsman of the baron's guard?" she said, voice calm, confident. "I've come to see if the rumors are true."
Zeven smirked. "You'll regret challenging me."
They fought under the setting sun, blades clashing like thunder. But this time, Zeven found himself on the losing end. Her movements were graceful, unpredictable—like a dance carried by wind.
When she disarmed him, the world slowed, and cherry blossoms drifted from the tree beside the yard.
He lay on the ground, staring up at her as she offered a hand. "You're strong," she said with a soft smile. "But strength isn't just about swinging a sword."
Something in Zeven's chest stirred. Maybe admiration… or something more.
Weeks turned to months.
Aelin joined the baron's guard to earn money for her sister, who suffered from a rare, deadly illness. Zeven admired her strength and her kindness.
They trained together. Ate together. Laughed together.
One night, under the stars, Aelin sat beside him and whispered, "Zeven… why do you chase power so desperately?"
He hesitated. "Because… it's all I have left. My parents died protecting people who forgot them the next day. I don't want to be forgotten."
Aelin smiled sadly. "Then promise me one thing. Don't let your blade become your only reason to live."
He smiled faintly. "I'll try."
They both knew it was a promise he couldn't keep.
One day, the baron of the town called them to his house, his guards standing rigid around the gates. He spoke of a special mission—to confront the growing beast tide threatening the lands. Zeven froze, heart hammering; the words echoed painfully. His parents had died on the very same mission years ago. Aelin stepped close, her eyes soft yet urgent, whispering, "Zeven, you don't have to face this alone. I'll fight by your side—we'll survive this together, I promise."
Zeven's eyes widened, heart racing, voice barely a whisper: "Together?"
Aelin nodded softly, smiling, and squeezed Zeven's hand reassuringly.
Zeven and Aelin smiled, hands clasped tightly, hearts alight with hope, ready for the battle ahead, unaware that shadows of betrayal and sorrow silently crept closer, poised to shatter their joy.
The night before the monster tide mission, they were called to the baron's mansion. Zeven didn't understand why. Aelin was silent the whole way there.
When they entered, the baron sat waiting, a cold smile on his face.
"Ah, Zeven," the baron said, voice dripping with false kindness. "You've served me well."
Something felt wrong.
Zeven frowned. "What's this about?"
The baron gestured lazily. "You'll see."
Aelin stepped forward. Her hands trembled. Her eyes were red.
Then—she drew her sword.
Zeven's heart stopped. "Aelin…? What are you doing?"
She didn't answer. The blade gleamed under the candlelight as she lunged forward.
Their swords clashed. Sparks flew.
Zeven shouted, "Why are you attacking me?!"
The baron chuckled. "Because, Zeven… people like you are dangerous to my rule. Always reaching for power you'll never have. Your parents were the same."
Zeven froze. His eyes widened. "...What did you say?"
"I ordered their deaths," the baron said casually. "They defied me."
Zeven's blood turned cold. "You… you're lying."
He turned to Aelin. She was crying now, tears streaking her face.
The baron laughed softly. "You see, Aelin's poor sister needs expensive treatment. I offered her everything she wanted… in exchange for your life."
Zeven's sword trembled. "Aelin… tell me he's lying."
Her lips quivered. "I'm sorry… Zeven."
The words broke something inside him.
Their blades met again—this time, with fury and grief. The memories of their laughter, their training, their nights together—all flashed before his eyes as they fought.
Aelin whispered through her tears, "If I had to choose between you and my sister… I'd choose her."
Zeven's grip faltered.
She raised her blade again. "Would you choose me over your life, Zeven? Tell me."
He hesitated, remembering his mother's words, his father's smile. "I… I'd choose myself."
Aelin smiled softly, her tears glimmering in the moonlight. "I knew you would."
Their blades collided one last time.
When it ended—Aelin fell.
Zeven caught her, shaking. "No… no, no, no, no—Aelin, stay with me!"
Her hand touched his face weakly. "You did the right thing… live… for me."
Her hand slipped away.
Zeven screamed.
In a blind fury, he turned on the baron. "You took everything from me!"
The baron only sneered. "You killed her yourself."
Zeven didn't remember much after that—only blood. He struck the baron down again and again until nothing was left.
Then he ran.
A fugitive. A murderer. A broken man.
When he finally tried to end his life beneath that same cherry tree, a shadow appeared beside him.
"Still alive, huh?" a voice said.
Zeven looked up to see Ardan standing over him, offering a hand.
"If you want to die," Ardan said, "do it after you've made the world remember your name."
Zeven stared at the hand for a long moment—then took it.
The vision faded.
Zeven's body twitched on the ground. The petals vanished, replaced once again by smoke and blood.
He looked up weakly. Theo stood above him, sword ready.
And just beyond him, Ardan stepped forward into the field.
Zeven smiled faintly. "So… it ends where it began."
Then his vision went dark.
To be continued.....