THE KING WHO DIED TWICE Chapter 3: The Last Knight
THE KING WHO DIED TWICE
Chapter 3: The Last Knight
The campfire burned low.
Around them, exhausted travelers slept beneath wagons and blankets, unaware that history had just changed.
Thomas stared at the silver-eyed woman.
His heart pounded.
There was only one problem.
He recognized her.
Not from this life.
From the memories.
From three hundred years ago.
She had stood beside him during battles.
Ridden beside him beneath royal banners.
Protected him more times than he could count.
Yet that was impossible.
No human could live three centuries.
"Who are you?" he asked quietly.
The woman smiled.
"You already know."
Another memory surfaced.
A young knight kneeling before a throne.
Silver armor.
Silver eyes.
A vow sworn in blood.
A name.
"Lyria..."
The woman's smile faded.
For the first time, genuine emotion appeared on her face.
"Yes."
Thomas felt the world spin.
Lady Lyria Valen.
Commander of the Silver Guard.
His most trusted knight.
Dead for three hundred years.
Or so he had believed.
"You died."
Lyria laughed softly.
"So did you."
Thomas couldn't argue with that.
For several moments neither spoke.
Finally Lyria looked north.
Toward the distant silhouette of the Black Tower.
"The prison is breaking."
Thomas followed her gaze.
"What exactly is imprisoned beneath it?"
Lyria's expression darkened.
"The answer you've spent three hundred years trying to forget."
The words struck harder than any blade.
Because deep down, Thomas knew she was right.
His memories had returned in fragments.
Never complete.
Always stopping before the most important truth.
Before the final betrayal.
Before the reason he had driven a sword through his own heart.
Lyria reached into her cloak.
She removed a small object wrapped in black cloth.
Carefully, she placed it on the ground between them.
Thomas unwrapped it.
Then froze.
A crown.
Silver and gold.
Ancient.
Broken.
His crown.
The Crown of Aldric.
The very crown supposedly buried with him three centuries ago.
The moment his fingers touched it, another memory exploded inside his mind.
Fire.
Screaming.
Blood.
The throne room of the White Citadel.
Soldiers dead on the marble floor.
Dragons circling overhead.
A city burning.
And himself.
King Aldric.
Kneeling before the Dark Lord.
Not as enemies.
As allies.
The memory vanished.
Thomas gasped.
His hands trembled.
"No..."
Lyria watched him carefully.
"What did you see?"
He couldn't answer.
Because what he had seen was impossible.
History claimed Aldric and the Dark Lord had fought to the death.
Yet the memory showed something entirely different.
They had been working together.
"We were never enemies," Lyria said quietly.
Thomas looked up.
His stomach dropped.
She already knew.
"The Dark Lord wasn't your enemy."
The words echoed in the darkness.
"Then who was?"
Lyria hesitated.
For the first time, fear appeared in her eyes.
Not fear of war.
Not fear of death.
Something older.
Something worse.
Finally she whispered:
"The Gods."
The world seemed to stop.
The Gods.
The Seven Divine Kings.
Creators of humanity.
Rulers of heaven.
Protectors of the world.
Every kingdom worshipped them.
Every temple served them.
Every child prayed to them.
Lyria shook her head.
"Everything they taught us was a lie."
Thomas felt another memory returning.
This one stronger than the others.
A chamber deep beneath the Black Tower.
The Dark Lord standing before him.
Speaking urgently.
Terrified.
Not like a conqueror.
Like a man trying to stop a disaster.
The Dark Lord had said:
"If they wake, humanity ends."
Then the memory vanished again.
Suddenly the ground trembled.
A deep rumble echoed across the mountains.
Everyone in the camp woke instantly.
People stumbled from tents.
Horses screamed.
The earth shook again.
Stronger.
Much stronger.
Thomas and Lyria climbed a nearby hill.
From there they could see the northern horizon.
And what they saw stole the breath from their lungs.
The Black Tower was glowing.
Cracks of golden light spread across its surface.
Like something inside was trying to break free.
Then the top of the tower exploded.
A column of light shot into the heavens.
Clouds vanished instantly.
The night sky split apart.
For a brief moment, everyone in the kingdom saw the same thing.
A gigantic eye.
Opening high above the world.
Watching.
Ancient.
Divine.
Awake.
People dropped to their knees in terror.
Some began praying.
Others began screaming.
Thomas simply stared.
Because he remembered that eye.
Not from this life.
From three hundred years ago.
From the war.
From the day civilization nearly ended.
One memory finally broke through.
A complete memory.
The final conversation between Aldric and the Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord had not wanted power.
He had not wanted conquest.
He had only wanted one thing.
To keep the Gods asleep.
And Aldric...
Aldric had helped him.
The eye in the sky slowly turned.
Looking south.
Looking across mountains, forests, cities.
Searching.
Then it found him.
Thomas felt it instantly.
The eye stopped moving.
Focused entirely on him.
Though it was hundreds of miles away.
It saw him.
It recognized him.
Lyria's face turned white.
"No..."
"What is it?"
She looked at him with horror.
"Three hundred years ago, you sacrificed yourself to hide from them."
The sky darkened.
The eye remained fixed on Thomas.
Watching.
Waiting.
Lyria grabbed his arm.
Her voice shook.
"They know where you are now."
Far above the world, something moved behind the clouds.
Something enormous.
Something descending.
And for the first time in three centuries...
May you like
The Gods were coming.
To be continued in Chapter 4: The Fallen Gods
