I woke up choking on air.
My lungs seized like I’d been drowning. The cold stone beneath scraped at my palms, grounding in reality, but my body didn’t believe it. Every breath I took felt wrong—too sharp, too shallow. The stench of ancient earth clung to my skin, damp and sour, heavy with the weight of centuries. Torches flickered on the walls, recently relit in haste, their flas casting wild shadows that danced like phantoms.
My vision blurred, spun, then slowly stabilized. The world was still too bright. Too loud.
Hands grabbed —strong, calloused, familiar. "Cassian!" a voice barked above , deep with worry and authority.
Keren.
His face hovered just inches from mine, brow creased, jaw tight. Behind him stood Alistair, pale as salt, trying to keep calm but clearly rattled. A few others lingered near the far wall, blades half-drawn and eyes uncertain, as if waiting for a monster to rise in my place.
But the only monster here was the one that had followed from the dream.
No—mory.
I tried to speak, but my throat was raw. My chest stung like it had been cracked open and filled with ice. I tasted blood at the back of my mouth, tallic and thin. I swallowed hard.
"Cassian," Keren said again, his voice lower now, steadier. His hands still gripped my shoulders, grounding like he could keep from flying apart.
"I’m fine," I rasped.
I wasn’t.
And they all knew it.
Their eyes searched my face, uncertain but deeply concerned. I’d collapsed in the heart of a sacred ruin, unmoving for gods knew how long. My gloves were covered in dust and grit—remnants of the broken pedestal I’d touched just before losing consciousness. Sweat soaked my back despite the chill in the chamber.
"Was it magic?" Alistair asked from behind Keren.
I shook my head.
Lie.
I didn’t want to lie. Not to them. Not when they’d fought beside , bled beside . But what could I say?
That I’d lived another life?
That I’d walked a demon market surrounded by monstrous beings, and no one batted an eye at my presence?
That I had watched myself—my younger self—laugh beside a creature born of sin, his hand resting casually on the small of my back like it belonged there?
That his touch had felt familiar?
That his voice curled around like a vice and comfort all at once?
They’d think I’d gone mad.
"Just... dizzy," I said instead, quieter this ti.
Keren frowned but didn’t press. He just nodded once, then stood and addressed the team, voice firm again. "We take a break here. Hydrate. Rest. We move once Cassian’s steady."
They obeyed without question, dispersing toward the shadowed edges of the chamber, keeping their weapons close. Only silence remained—thick, watching, waiting.
I leaned back against the nearest wall and closed my eyes, willing my heart to calm. But it was useless.
Because I was still unraveling inside.
This wasn’t the first ti.
Not by a long shot.
Ever since I was sold as a child—since my na was taken, my past erased—I’d had dreams. Strange, intense, horrifyingly vivid dreams. Always of him. Sotis the man in those visions was kind. Other tis, brutal. Sotis he was both in the sa breath, like a fire that ward and burned all at once.
In those dreams, I was... his. Sothing like a lover. Sothing like prey.
He would hold like I was sothing precious, then leave my hands stained in blood—his, mine, or maybe sothing else entirely. The details never lasted. His face blurred each ti. The words lted away the mont I woke.
But this ti?
This was no dream.
I rembered everything.
His silver eyes, glowing like twin moons. His smile—playful, dark, full of knowledge I shouldn’t understand. The sound of his voice, thick with power and amusent. And his hand, trailing down my spine with the ease of soone who had done it a thousand tis before.
And —my younger self—leaning into it, like that world belonged to .
Like he belonged to .
And the most terrifying part?
That man—the one in this mory—he wasn’t the sa vague figure from the usual dreams. No, he was clearer. Sharper. Real. The Demon King of Lust.
And yet... I could still feel the ghost of the other one. The blurred figure. The original. The one I’d dread of for years. Both were real. Both burned inside like matching scars.
But how could that be?
How could I belong to both?
I had never stepped foot in the demon realm.
I’d grown up in my uncle’s cold halls, then thrown into the palace’s politics, trained under Dorian’s careful eye, and later carved into a leader. My life was full of clean, traceable lines.
So why did that world—the twisted market stalls, the ancient demon-speak etched into bone and stone—feel more like ho than anything I rembered?
Why did that man feel like soone I had both loved... and maybe even hurt?
Why did he feel so familiar, like soone who had once been everything to —and then sohow, I had been the one to destroy it?
A strange ache tightened in my chest. I pressed a hand over my heart, trying to calm the sharp, twisting feeling that had taken hold inside .
It wasn’t just physical pain. It wasn’t like getting hurt in a fight or falling too hard. No, this pain was different. Deeper. It felt like sothing inside had broken open—sothing I didn’t even know was there. And now, whatever was hidden inside was pouring out, slow and heavy, like blood from a wound I couldn’t see.
It felt like... grief.
As if I had lost sothing precious a long ti ago, without even realizing it. As if a part of my soul had been taken from , and I had only just now rembered that it was missing.
And that dream—no, that mory—it wasn’t just a strange vision from my mind. It was real. I knew it was real. I could still feel the warmth of his touch, hear the sound of his voice. Those kinds of details don’t co from dreams. They co from lived monts.
Which ant...
Everything I thought I knew about myself might not be the whole truth.
Maybe it was all just a part of the story.
Maybe sothing important had been erased from . Taken away. Forgotten.
And if that mory was real—if that life was once mine—
Then what else have I forgotten?
What else has been hidden beneath my skin all this ti, waiting to rise to the surface?
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