The flames were merciless.
They danced around him like serpents, hissing, hungry, and bright enough to blind the gods.
Aedric Valtoris had never imagined that death would feel so... slow.
His skin peeled. His bones cracked. His screams echoed through the silent courtyard of the Grand Palace — once his home, now his grave.
Chains bound his wrists and ankles. Iron spikes nailed him to the pyre like some ancient, damned demon. Above him, the royal banner of House Valtoris fluttered proudly — the emblem of the phoenix, devouring its own.
How poetic.
"By order of the Grand Tribunal, Aedric Valtoris, former Crown Heir of the Dominion, is hereby sentenced to death by sacred flame. For the crimes of high treason, soul-binding, and consorting with forbidden magic."
A voice rang out over the courtyard. Calm. Cold. Final.
He knew that voice.
Prince Caelen Valtoris — his half-brother. The one who orchestrated this mock trial. The one who had whispered lies into the ears of nobles and poisoned the loyalty of the people. The one who now wore the royal seal, standing tall beside the execution platform.
Aedric turned his head, blood pouring from his mouth. Through the wall of fire, their eyes met.
"Still pretending to be king, brother?" he rasped.
Caelen didn't flinch. "You are no longer my brother. You are a disease."
Aedric laughed — a dry, broken sound.
"You'll regret not killing me yourself."
The flames answered in place of Caelen. They surged upward, hungry, licking at his chest, his face, his soul. The air smelled of seared flesh and scorched betrayal. The crowd watched in silence, nobles hiding smug expressions behind jeweled masks, priests muttering false prayers.
And somewhere, in the sea of faces, she stood.
Selene Aurin. His first love. The one who had once held his hand under the star-blessed tree. The one who had kissed his wounds. The one who had sold him out for power.
Tears sparkled in her eyes, but she didn't move. She didn't speak. She watched him burn, clenching the hand of Prince Caelen.
The last thing Aedric saw before the darkness came… was the royal sigil melting in the fire.
---
But death was not the end.
---
Somewhere far beyond the land of mortals, a voice echoed in the void.
> "He who burns unjustly shall rise in ash."
> "Shall we give him a second chance… or let him rot in flame?"
> "He remembers everything. Let him suffer. Let him change fate."
Aedric's soul hovered in an ocean of black flame. There was no pain now. Only stillness.
But his mind—his memory—was intact. And it was screaming.
He saw every betrayal. Every lie. Every moment he trusted and was broken.
He wanted revenge. No—he craved it. It was the only thing that kept his soul from dissolving.
> "Very well," the voices said. "Let the flameborn rise."
---
Ten years earlier.
The storm cracked above the mountains. Thunder rumbled like the drums of war. Rain lashed the rooftops of Arvale City.
And in a quiet dormitory chamber within the Arcanum Academy, a young boy of sixteen bolted upright in his bed — gasping for air.
His silver eyes gleamed unnaturally in the dark.
His hands trembled.
His heart screamed.
Aedric Valtoris had awoken — with memories not of dreams, but of death.
He stumbled to the mirror across the room, grabbing the edge of the washbasin, and stared into the eyes of his younger self.
His hair was shorter. His frame leaner. His body... whole.
He looked down at his wrists — no chains. His chest — no scars. His soul — still heavy.
"Impossible," he whispered.
He staggered backward, his breath short.
"I died. I was burned alive... I—"
A sudden knock on the door jerked him out of his thoughts.
"Crown Heir Aedric, the morning drills begin in an hour. Shall I prepare your armor?"
The voice belonged to Alden — his personal guard. Loyal. Fierce. Dead in the old timeline. Murdered for refusing to betray him.
Aedric's eyes widened.
"…He's alive?"
Tears filled his eyes — not from joy, but from confirmation.
He wasn't dreaming. He had truly returned.
Reborn.
Back in time.
With every memory intact.
And every enemy marked.
---
He walked to the window, pushed it open, and stared at the vast city below — the glowing spires, the humming sigils in the air, the enormous statue of his ancestor King Valtoris.
This was the beginning.
And
they didn't know he was back.
Not yet.
---
"This time... I burn the heavens first."
"Then I bury the gods beneath them."
---