Cassian's POV
I slammed my fist into the mirror.
Glass exploded across the floor, and blood dripped from my knuckles. The pain felt good. Real. Proof that I wasn't still burning, still dying, still trapped in that nightmare.
"Prince Cassian!" The door burst open. Matthias rushed in, face twisted with concern. "What happened?"
I stared at my bleeding hand, watching red drops splash onto broken glass. Three years. I had three years before this man would smile and watch me burn alive.
"I'm fine." My voice came out flat.
"You're bleeding!" Matthias grabbed my wrist, examining the cuts. His touch made my skin crawl. "Let me call the healer—"
"I said I'm fine." I jerked away.
Matthias froze. In my first life, I'd never pulled away from him. Never questioned him. I'd been the perfect student, soaking up his every word like gospel.
"Forgive me, my prince." He stepped back, hands raised. "I'm only concerned. This isn't like you."
Because you don't know me, I thought bitterly. You only know the fool you created.
But I forced my expression to soften. "Sorry. Bad dreams. Really bad dreams."
"About the ceremony?"
"About choosing wrong."
Relief flickered across his face. Good. Let him think I was just a nervous kid.
"There's no wrong choice," Matthias said smoothly, moving to sit in my reading chair. Making himself comfortable. Just like always. "Though some weapons are certainly more... *suitable* than others."
Here it came. The gentle push toward the Dawnbreaker. The first thread in a web that would strangle me three years from now.
I wrapped my bleeding hand in a shirt sleeve and sat on my bed, forcing myself to meet his eyes. Those kind, lying eyes.
"Tell me about the weapons," I said.
Matthias smiled. "Where should I begin? The Stormcaller hammer? The Frostbite bow? Each has served House Solmere with honor."
"What about the Dawnbreaker?"
His smile widened. "Ah. The legendary sunblade. I was hoping you'd ask."
Of course you were.
"Every generation dreams of wielding it," Matthias continued, leaning forward. "King Aldric the Great carried it into battle against the Shadow Legion. Queen Meredith used it to heal the plague victims. It's the symbol of everything House Solmere represents—justice, light, heroism."
In my first life, these words had filled me with pride. Made me desperate to prove myself worthy.
Now they just made me want to vomit.
"But what if it doesn't choose me?" I asked.
"Impossible." Matthias stood, pacing like a teacher giving a lecture. "I've studied the prophecies, Cassian. 'A prince of golden light shall rise when darkness threatens.' That's you. It's always been you."
"How do you know?"
He blinked. "Pardon?"
"How do you know it's me?" I pressed. "What if the prophecy means someone else? What if I choose the Dawnbreaker and it rejects me?"
Something dark flashed through Matthias's expression. There and gone in a heartbeat. But I'd seen it—frustration. Anger.
"The sacred weapons don't reject their chosen wielders," he said carefully. "The bond is divine. Perfect. Unless..."
"Unless what?"
"Unless the wielder is unworthy." His voice went soft. Dangerous. "But you're not unworthy, are you, Cassian? You've trained your whole life for this. You're strong, brave, exactly what Astrion needs."
The words were honey-sweet. Poisoned honey.
"What happens if someone is unworthy?" I asked. "What does rejection look like?"
Matthias's jaw tightened. "Why are you asking these questions?"
"Because I'm scared!" The words exploded out of me, and they weren't entirely fake. "What if I choose wrong? What if the weapon turns on me? What if I die?"
"You won't—"
"How do you KNOW?" I stood, letting real fear bleed into my voice. "Everyone keeps saying the bond is perfect, divine, unbreakable. But Prince Daemon bonded with a weapon and went mad. What if that happens to me?"
Matthias went very still. "Prince Daemon chose a *cursed* blade. That's completely different."
"Is it? The Kinslayer was a sacred weapon once. What made it cursed?"
"Daemon's own madness corrupted it." But Matthias's voice had gone cold. "That's why it's sealed. Why no one must ever touch it again."
I studied his face. In my first life, I'd never questioned the story about Daemon. The mad prince who slaughtered his family. The cautionary tale about corrupted weapons.
But now I wondered—what if Daemon had been like me? What if he'd discovered the truth and been silenced?
"Tell me what really happened," I said quietly.
"I just did."
"No. Tell me the truth. You've been the royal advisor for... how long?"
"Twenty-three years."
Liar. The court records said he'd advised my grandfather too. And maybe his grandfather before that. The numbers didn't add up unless—
"You look young for someone who's served three generations," I said.
Matthias's smile never wavered, but his eyes went sharp. "Good bloodline. My family ages well."
"Or maybe you're lying."
The temperature in the room dropped. Matthias stared at me, and for one terrifying second, I saw something move behind his eyes. Something that wasn't human.
Then he laughed. "The nerves are making you paranoid, my prince. Understandable. The Binding Ceremony is tomorrow. You should rest."
He moved toward the door, but I wasn't done.
"What if I don't choose the Dawnbreaker?"
Matthias's hand froze on the doorknob. When he turned back, his smile was gone.
"That would be... unwise."
"Why?"
"Because the prophecy is clear—"
"Prophecies can be wrong."
"Not this one." His voice had gone hard. "You *will* choose the Dawnbreaker, Cassian. It's your destiny."
"And if I refuse?"
For a moment, we just stared at each other. Two people who knew too much, pretending to be advisor and prince.
Then Matthias's expression softened back into concerned mentor. "Why would you refuse? The Dawnbreaker is the greatest weapon in Astrion. Any prince would be honored to wield it."
"Any prince except the one it burns alive."
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Matthias went absolutely motionless. "What did you say?"
My heart hammered against my ribs. Stupid. So stupid. I'd revealed too much.
"Nothing. Just—bad dreams. Like I said."
"You dreamed about burning?" His eyes bored into mine. "Specifically about burning?"
"Lots of people have fire nightmares—"
"Describe it." He moved closer, intense. "The dream. Describe exactly what you saw."
Warning bells screamed in my head. This was wrong. He shouldn't be this interested in a random nightmare.
Unless it wasn't random.
"I don't remember," I lied.
"Try."
"It was just fire. That's all."
"Golden fire?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Holy fire? The kind that burns from the inside out?"
My blood turned to ice. How did he know? How could he *possibly* know what it felt like unless—
"You've done this before," I breathed. "Killed princes with their own weapons. That's how you know what it looks like."
Matthias's mask cracked. For just a heartbeat, something ancient and terrible looked out through his eyes.
"You should have stayed dead," he whispered.
Then his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around my throat. But this wasn't human strength—this was something wrong. My feet left the floor. Black spots danced across my vision.
"I don't know how you came back," Matthias hissed, and his voice had layers now. Dozens of voices speaking as one. "But you're not ready. Not nearly ready. Which means I'll have to start over. Again."
I clawed at his hand. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't scream.
"Don't worry," he said almost gently. "This time it'll look like an accident. And when you wake up, you'll have forgotten all of this. Just like the last two times."
Last two times?
His other hand rose, glowing with sickly green light. Moving toward my forehead.
Panic exploded through me. Whatever he was about to do—erase my memories, kill me, something—I couldn't let it happen.
My hand closed around a shard of broken mirror on the floor.
I slashed it across his face.
Matthias shrieked and dropped me. I hit the ground gasping, and scrambled backward as he clutched his bleeding cheek.
But the blood wasn't red.
It was black. Thick and oily, dripping between his fingers.
"What are you?" I choked out.
Matthias lowered his hand. The wound was already healing, skin knitting back together. When he smiled, his teeth looked too sharp.
"Your destiny," he said.
The voice from the Vault suddenly screamed through my mind: "RUN, YOU IDIOT! RUN NOW!"
I ran.