The past didn't return as a memory this time.
It came as a fever.
Lucien collapsed in the garden just after sunset, the sigil on his chest searing hot. Not in pain — but longing. It was pulling open a locked door in his soul.
A memory that had always been hidden — even from himself.
A name. A scent. A kiss in firelight.
The voice within whispered:
"You must see him again. You must remember."
---
Thevisionbegan.
Lucien — or Riven, as he had been — stood in the ruins of a library, a sword in one hand, a bloodstained crown in the other.
Behind him, a man leaned against a pillar, smiling.
Golden eyes. Warm skin. Armor of midnight blue. A voice like velvet sin.
Azrael.
Lucien froze in the memory.
That name.
That face.
He knew it. He loved it.
Azrael was the prince of the very empire Riven had sworn to destroy.
And yet, in secret, they had met. In ruins. In shadows. In silk sheets.
They had loved each other the way forbidden things often love — desperately, beautifully, knowing they could never last.
Azrael stepped forward in the vision, brushing ash from Riven's hair.
"You burned their palace," he said, half a tease. "Was that really necessary?"
"They slaughtered my kin," Riven answered. "What would you have had me do?"
Azrael shrugged. "Not burn the crown I'm supposed to inherit."
Riven looked away. "You won't want me after this."
Azrael had smiled, stepping close. "I already do."
Their kiss had been slow, full of aching history and doomed futures.
Lucien felt the heat of it across time. His heart stuttered.
In that moment, Riven was ready to stop fighting. To stop destroying. To simply be.
But then — the betrayal.
---
The memory shifted.
Riven stood at the altar of truce — and Azrael wasn't alone.
The Emperor stood beside him.
Smiling.
Riven backed away, furious. "You told him?!"
Azrael's voice trembled. "I had no choice. He's my father. He—"
"He's a tyrant!"
The Emperor stepped forward. "And you are a weapon made of grief. You were never going to walk away."
Azrael reached for him — but Riven pulled back, eyes darkening.
"I loved you," he whispered. "And you used that to chain me."
"No—" Azrael began.
But it was too late.
Riven had been bound in that moment — body, soul, memory.
His final scream had been Azrael's name.
And that had been the beginning of the cycle. His soul, ripped out. His power split. His body remade in another world.
Lucien gasped awake.
Azrael was the Emperor's son.
Lucien had once loved the son, and been destroyed by the father.
And now…
Now he was back in the world that tried to erase him — wearing a new face, bearing the curse of both love and betrayal.
---
Elsewhere in the palace, Kael stood outside a locked chamber, eavesdropping.
Inside, the Emperor and a hooded seer spoke.
"The ritual must begin soon," the Emperor said. "Lucien is nearly at the point of no return."
"And the final seal?" the seer asked.
"The warrior," the Emperor said coldly. "Kael was bound to him in battle. His blood will make the bond permanent."
Kael's heart dropped.
He was never meant to protect Lucien. He was meant to become the cage that held him.
---
Back in the garden, Elias watched Lucien from a distance.
He had felt the flare of magic. He had seen the fire in Lucien's veins.
But he hadn't felt him.
Something was changing. Fast.
And Elias, who had once believed love could anchor Lucien… now feared love might not be enough.
---
Lucien stood under the stars, silent.
"I remember now," he whispered.
And the soul inside him — warm, waiting — whispered back:
"Then you are ready to choose. Become what they fear. Or die repeating history."