-Sacer-

The days dragged on, an eternity packed into the two weeks since that disastrous birthday. The capital was still reeling from the eruption of black flames—and from Luca's disappearance. But for me, there had been no time to grieve, no time to wallow in the loss of the brother I'd thought I knew.

My resolve wouldn't allow it.

Father had aged overnight. The man who had raised us, who had made our tiny home feel like a sanctuary, now looked like a hollow version of himself. His shoulders slumped as though the weight of the world had settled onto them, his once-strong hands trembling as he fiddled with a half-finished carving at the kitchen table. He hadn't touched his tools in years, but now he carved endlessly, as if each chip of wood would whittle away his guilt.

I didn't have the heart to tell him it wouldn't work.

"Sacer," he said one evening, his voice hoarse and uneven. "He's not gone. I know my boy wouldn't..." His words faltered, leaving an aching silence between us.

He couldn't finish the thought—but I could. Wouldn't do what? Destroy the plaza? Unleash black flames that scorched through everything in their path? Or wouldn't run, wouldn't leave us?

Wouldn't become a demon?

I clenched my fists beneath the table, nails digging into my palms. I wanted to tell him he was wrong. That I'd seen the truth. That Luca hadn't just lost control—he'd become something else. Something that could destroy everything if left unchecked.

But I didn't.

Because, as much as I wanted to believe that the brother I'd grown up with was still in there, I knew better. I'd seen it in his eyes when he turned to me that day, the crimson burning like a wildfire. Whatever Luca had become, it wasn't my brother anymore. And that left me with one job: to put an end to it. To him.

I excused myself from the table, ignoring Father's pleading gaze. I couldn't let his hope infect me, couldn't let it weaken my resolve. Outside, the cool night air hit like a slap, sharp and bracing. I welcomed it, letting the chill settle into my bones as I leaned against the porch railing. Above, the stars blinked indifferently, their light pale against the inky darkness of the sky.

"You're out late."

The voice startled me, and I turned to see Sir Alden approaching from the path. The old knight moved with a purposeful stride, his armor polished even in the moonlight. He'd been tasked by the crown to oversee me, the so-called Hero destined to save the world. To save it from my own brother.

"Couldn't sleep," I replied tersely.

Alden nodded, stepping closer. He leaned his hands on the railing beside me, his expression unreadable. "Rest will be hard to come by in the days ahead," he said. "You've been training well, but..." He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. "Hesitation could cost you, Sacer. You need to be certain of your resolve."

"I'm certain," I said, the words coming out harder than I'd intended.

Alden raised an eyebrow but didn't challenge me. "Certainty is good," he said after a moment. "But conviction comes from more than words. When the moment comes, will you hesitate?"

I thought of Luca, of the way we'd raced through the woods as kids, laughing and daring each other to climb higher, run faster. Of the late nights whispering secrets under a blanket of stars. Of the way his face had twisted with fear and pain in the plaza before the flames erupted.

"No," I said firmly, forcing the memories aside. "I won't hesitate."

Alden studied me for a long moment, his piercing gaze like a blade slicing through my defenses. Then he nodded, as if satisfied. "Good. Because hesitation isn't just a risk to you. It's a risk to everyone who's counting on you to stop him."

Stop him. That was all anyone said. Not save, not help. Stop. As if Luca was already gone, replaced entirely by the monster that shared his face. But I couldn't stop the small, traitorous voice in the back of my mind that whispered: What if he isn't?

Alden's voice broke through my thoughts. "Your father believes there's hope. That Luca can be saved."

"He's wrong," I said quickly, my tone sharper than I'd intended.

Alden's expression didn't change. "Perhaps. Or perhaps he knows something we don't. Either way, hope is dangerous if it blinds you to what must be done."

I nodded, though the words felt like ash in my mouth. Hope was dangerous. It was a weakness I couldn't afford, not when the fate of so many rested on my shoulders.

—

I woke before the sun, the air still heavy with the chill of the night. The faint glow of dawn painted the horizon as I began my morning run, a ritual I'd clung to since the truth about who I was had been revealed.

Gabriel. The Hero. The reincarnation of a legend.

It hadn't come as a sudden revelation, nor had it been a secret my entire life. The dreams had started when I was thirteen: vivid, fragmented memories of battles fought in a time long past. At first, I'd dismissed them as nightmares—the kind that came from reading too many old stories before bed. But they grew sharper, more persistent, until the memories bled into my waking moments. Flashes of a golden sword slicing through shadowy foes, a voice calling my name that wasn't mine, and an overwhelming sense of duty that felt as old as the earth itself.

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By the time I was fifteen, I knew. Gabriel came to me in the dead of night, his spectral form glowing faintly as he stood at the foot of my bed. I'd bolted upright, heart pounding, and stared at the figure who looked so much like me—white hair, golden eyes—but with an aura of strength I hadn't yet grown into.

"It is time," he'd said, his voice resonant and calm. "You carry my legacy. My strength. My burden. Prepare yourself, Sacer. The world will call on you soon."

He didn't explain what that meant, not fully. Gabriel's visits were infrequent and cryptic, more flashes of guidance than a steady presence. But the knowledge he left me with was enough to change everything. My magic—which I'd barely understood before—began to stir in earnest. It wasn't like Luca's flames or the elemental magic some villagers dabbled in. Mine was light itself, a golden energy that hummed beneath my skin, waiting to be shaped.

At first, it was exhilarating. I could summon small orbs of light to guide me through the dark, heal minor injuries, and even deflect objects hurled my way during sparring matches. But the more I trained, the more I realized its true nature: my magic wasn't just light. It was divine, destructive even.

I'd kept it a secret from Luca and Father. Not out of shame, but because I hadn't known how to explain it. How do you tell your family that you're not just their son or brother, but the reincarnation of a hero who's meant to save the world? I'd planned to tell them eventually, once I understood it all myself. But then our birthday happened, and there was no time left for explanations.

Now, every day was a balancing act—between training, planning, and trying not to drown in the weight of everything I'd lost. After breakfast, I'd meet Sir Alden in the training yard. The knight wasn't one for small talk, and I appreciated that. He'd taken it upon himself to prepare me, as Gabriel's successor, for the battles ahead. Our sessions were brutal. Swordsmanship, tactics, endurance. He pushed me until my muscles screamed and my thoughts blurred, and even then, he demanded more.

"Again," he barked as I parried a heavy blow. My arms trembled under the weight of the broadsword, sweat dripping into my eyes.

"You're holding back," he growled, stepping back and lowering his blade. "Why?"

I wiped my brow with the back of my hand, glaring at him. "I'm not."

"You are," Alden said, his azure eyes narrowing.

I flinched. He wasn't wrong. The light that surged through me felt pure and righteous, but it also felt other. Like it didn't belong to me entirely. Sometimes, I worried that if I relied on it too much, I'd lose myself to it.

"Sacer," Alden said, his tone softer now. "You can't afford to hold back. Not against him."

I nodded, tightening my grip on the sword. "Again," I said, stepping forward.

This time, I didn't hold back. The golden light flared around me, and for a moment, it felt like I was watching someone else move—someone faster, stronger, and more certain. My sword met Alden's with a deafening clang, the force of the impact sending a shockwave through the yard. He smiled grimly, nodding in approval.

"Better," he said.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of training and preparation. By the time evening fell, I was exhausted, but I couldn't stop. Not yet. As the others settled into the quiet rhythm of the night, I found myself on the outskirts of the village, staring up at the stars. They always seemed brighter here, away from the noise and light of the capital.

Gabriel's voice echoed in my mind. "You carry my legacy. My strength. My burden."

I didn't ask for any of this. I hadn't asked to be a hero, to be the one tasked with stopping the person I cared about most. But the world didn't care what I wanted. It only cared that I was Gabriel, and Gabriel's duty was clear.

Stop Damon.

—

The training grounds stretched across the eastern edge of the village, a wide, open expanse bordered by dense woods. The rising sun painted the field in hues of gold and crimson, casting long shadows that danced with every movement of the knights sparring there. Some knights wielded fire or ice, their magic clashing in bursts of energy, while others used barriers of earth or shields of shimmering light to enhance their defenses. Today, I wouldn't train alone.

Sir Alden stood at the center of the grounds, his sharp voice carrying over the clang of steel meeting steel. Around him, other knights sparred, practiced formations, and exchanged techniques. One knight summoned a blade of pure flame, while another conjured whips of water that cracked against their opponent's shield. A third knight, stationed at the edge of the grounds, hurled glowing projectiles of energy that exploded like small fireworks on impact. They were a motley group—some seasoned warriors with scars that told their stories, others younger, with the fire of ambition burning in their eyes. They were here for one purpose: to fight alongside the Hero.

To fight alongside me.

"Sacer," Alden called as I approached. His blue eyes flicked to the broadsword strapped to my back. "Ready to prove yourself?"

I nodded, tightening the straps on my bracers. My muscles still ached from yesterday's session, but I couldn't afford to show weakness. Not here.

"Good." Alden gestured to a tall woman standing nearby. She had close-cropped dark hair, a jagged scar running from her temple to her jaw, and an air of authority that rivaled Alden's. "This is Captain Lysara. She'll be leading the vanguard when the time comes. You'd do well to learn from her."

Lysara's eyes appraised me, sharp and calculating. Her sword glowed faintly as she infused it with her own magic. "You've got Gabriel's power," she said, her voice low and steady. "Let's see if you've got his skill."

I took my place opposite her, the other knights forming a loose circle around us. Their eyes bore into me, filled with curiosity and skepticism. Nearby, a knight conjured a protective barrier of ice for his partner as they watched, the translucent shield catching the morning light.

"Begin!" Alden barked.

Lysara moved first, her blade a blur of motion as she aimed a strike at my shoulder. I deflected it, the force reverberating up my arm, and stepped back to avoid her follow-up thrust. She was fast, faster than anyone I'd sparred with before. But I couldn't let her overwhelm me.

I shifted my stance, channeling the golden energy that hummed beneath my skin. It flowed into my sword, the blade glowing faintly as I brought it up to meet her next strike. The clash sent a ripple of light outward, drawing murmurs from the watching knights.

"Impressive," Lysara said, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "But light shows won't win battles."

She pressed the attack, her strikes coming faster and harder. I parried, dodged, and countered, my movements guided by the energy coursing through me. Each swing of my sword left a trail of light in its wake, the magic enhancing my speed and precision. For the first time, I felt like I wasn't just reacting; I was anticipating, controlling the flow of the fight.

To the side, one of the younger knights—Edric—grinned as he watched. "Looks like the Hero's got some tricks," he quipped to his sparring partner.

"Enough!" Alden called after what felt like an eternity. Lysara stepped back, lowering her blade and nodding in approval.

"You've got potential," she said, her tone grudgingly respectful. "But potential won't save you in the field. Keep training."

I nodded, breathing hard as the circle of knights broke apart. Some clapped me on the back, offering words of encouragement or critique. Others simply watched, their expressions unreadable.

"You're not done yet," Alden said, his voice cutting through the din. "Sacer, you're with Edric."

Edric stepped forward, his longsword crackling with sparks of electricity. "Let's see what the Hero's made of," he said, his tone light but challenging.

I didn't respond, taking my position opposite him. The energy in my chest burned brighter, urging me to prove myself again. Alden gave the signal, and Edric lunged.

This time, I didn't hold back. The golden light flared around me as I met his attack, our swords clashing with a resounding crack. Edric's strikes were precise, his footwork impeccable, but the magic gave me an edge. My blade moved faster, the light guiding my hand as I forced him back.

He adjusted quickly, switching to a defensive stance and looking for an opening. However, I didn't give him one. Channeling the energy into my legs, I surged forward, feinting high before sweeping low. My blade stopped just short of his side, signaling my victory.

Edric grinned, stepping away and lowering his sword. "Alright, I guess you win this round."

I nodded, my breathing steady despite the exertion. Around us, the knights murmured their approval, even Alden looked faintly pleased.

"That's enough sparring for today," he belted. "Gather around."

The knights formed a loose semicircle as Alden addressed us. "You've seen what Sacer can do," he began, his voice carrying authority. "He's not just the Hero by title. He's earned his place here. But make no mistake—there's still work to be done. For all of us."

His gaze swept over the group, lingering on me for a moment before continuing. "When the time comes, we'll stand together. As knights. As warriors. As a shield against the darkness. Train hard, fight harder, and remember: we fight for each other. Always."

A chorus of affirmations followed, the weight of Alden's words settling over us. As the knights dispersed, Lysara approached me, her expression unreadable.

"You did well today," she said. "But don't let it go to your head. There's a difference between sparring and war. Out there, there are no do-overs."

"I know," I said quietly.

She studied me for a moment longer before nodding. "Good. Keep that in mind."

As she walked away, I turned back to the field, the faint glow of the golden light still flickering at my fingertips. I'd proven myself today.