The world had become quiet again.
Too quiet.
Days passed peacefully in the Renard estate, but for Cael, that silence was never comforting. It felt empty, like a missing heartbeat.
He often sat by the window of his small room, watching the guards spar below. The rhythm of their wooden swords striking echoed faintly against the stone walls. Most boys his age would have begged to join them — but Cael simply observed.
Every strike, every stance, every mistake — he saw them all before they happened. He knew where their balance would fail, where their guard would open, where their emotion would break.
Because he'd done it all before.
Not as a boy. Not as Cael Renard.
But as someone else. Someone who had lived and died on a battlefield long ago.
He didn't understand how he knew these things.
He only knew that whenever he closed his eyes, he could still smell the smoke.
---
It began again that night.
The dream.
Fire.
Flames swallowing the horizon.
Shouts, steel, chaos.
He was older — standing in armor, sword drawn, shouting commands into the storm of war. The name "Ardyn" rang through the air, carried by dying voices.
Then came the silence. Always the silence.
Cael woke gasping for breath, sweat dripping down his neck. The moonlight spilled through the window, silver and cold.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the frantic beat of his heart.
It took several minutes before his breathing slowed.
The dreams were getting worse. Sharper. Realer.
Sometimes he could almost taste the blood in the air.
---
At breakfast the next morning, Lyra noticed his pale face immediately.
"Bad dream again?" she asked softly.
He nodded, poking at his food. "It's nothing."
"It doesn't look like nothing."
He forced a small smile. "I'll be fine."
She leaned across the table, frowning. "You always say that."
Their mother, Mira, interrupted gently. "Lyra, let your brother eat. Dreams fade faster when you stop talking about them."
Lyra sighed, mumbling under her breath, "Not his dreams."
Cael froze at her words. She didn't mean anything by it, but the truth in her voice lingered.
No, not his dreams. They weren't dreams at all. They were memories.
And deep down, he feared they weren't done with him yet.
---
Later that day, Sir Thane arrived to check on the guards.
As usual, Cael was sitting under the elm tree, silent as ever.
Thane stopped beside him. "Still watching, are you?"
Cael nodded.
"You know, most boys your age are swinging sticks, pretending to be knights. You, on the other hand, just stare like a general planning a siege."
Cael hesitated before replying, "Maybe I just like understanding things before doing them."
Thane chuckled. "That's not a bad habit. But sometimes you learn more by failing than by watching."
Cael looked up at him. "Did you fail a lot?"
The old knight smirked. "More times than I can count. That's why I'm still alive."
The boy tilted his head. "Most people die when they fail."
Thane blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness. "That's… true. You're a strange one, Cael."
Cael shrugged slightly. "Maybe I've lived more lives than I should."
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
Thane raised an eyebrow. "And what's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing," Cael said quickly. "Just something I read."
Thane studied him for a moment, then laughed it off. "Well, if you ever get bored of watching, come see me. I could use a new sparring partner — even if you're half my size."
"I'll think about it."
"Good lad."
As Thane walked away, Cael stared down at his hand. For a brief second, the faint sigil on his palm flickered again — that strange mark that appeared after the accident by the river.
He clenched his fist. The glow vanished.
---
The days blurred together after that — lessons in reading and arithmetic from his mother, lectures on history from his father, endless questions from Lyra.
He pretended to be normal.
He laughed when he needed to, spoke when spoken to, and kept his distance from anything that might make him remember.
But memory had a way of finding him anyway.
---
It happened during a storm.
Thunder rolled through the hills as rain battered the estate. Cael sat by the window, watching the flashes of light crack the night apart.
He felt… uneasy. The storm made his skin crawl.
Each thunderclap sounded like artillery. Each flash reminded him of explosions.
When a particularly loud one shook the walls, something inside him snapped.
A voice echoed in his mind — sharp, commanding, familiar.
> "Hold the line! Don't let them through!"
Cael's eyes widened. The world blurred. Suddenly, he wasn't in his room anymore.
He was standing in mud. Rain poured over blood-soaked armor. A banner burned behind him. Soldiers screamed.
He raised a sword that wasn't in his hand — and felt the weight of a thousand lives pressing on his shoulders.
"Commander Ardyn!" someone yelled. "The left flank—!"
"Fall back!" he shouted instinctively. "Regroup by the ridge!"
His voice — older, stronger — tore through the chaos.
Then lightning struck nearby. The ground split, and the vision shattered.
---
He found himself back in his room, gasping. The rain was still falling, but his sword — the one from the vision — wasn't there.
Except… it was.
A faint outline shimmered in the air, like a ghostly blade made of blue light. It flickered for a second before dissolving.
Cael stared at his trembling hand. "What was that?"
No answer. Only thunder.
But deep inside, something pulsed — a heartbeat that wasn't his own.
---
The next morning, he told no one.
Not even Lyra.
What could he say?
That he saw another world? That he remembered a war that didn't exist here?
He didn't want to scare them.
He didn't want to scare himself.
Instead, he returned to the tree near the training yard and sat in silence again. The sky was clear now, washed clean by rain.
Sir Thane noticed him as always. "Back to watching?"
Cael nodded.
The knight smirked. "You've got that same look again. Like you're solving the world's biggest puzzle."
"Maybe I am."
Thane chuckled. "If you ever find the answer, let me know."
As Thane walked off, Cael whispered to himself,
"I think I already have."
He looked at his hand — the faint glow hidden beneath his skin.
"Ardyn Vale," he murmured quietly. "That was my name, wasn't it?"
The wind carried his words away, but the mark on his palm burned brighter for a heartbeat — almost as if to say yes.
---
That night, when Lyra came to check on him, she found him sitting by the window again, eyes lost in thought.
"You're thinking too much again," she said, folding her arms.
He smiled faintly. "Maybe."
She climbed onto his lap, resting her head against his chest. "Mother says people who think too much forget to live."
"Then I'll try not to forget."
"Promise?"
He looked down at her — her warmth, her laughter, her innocence. Things he'd never had in his old life.
"Promise."
Lyra yawned and dozed off in his arms.
Cael watched the stars through the window — quiet, endless, and far too familiar.
He didn't know why, but he could feel it: something was waiting for him beyond this peace.
Something old.
Something that remembered.
And for the first time, he wasn't sure if this second life was a blessing… or another battlefield waiting to begin.
---
End of Chapter 3 – The Child Who Remembers