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  The night was silent, save for the soft rustling of the wind against the wooden window of Kael’s simple room. The moon cast a dim, silvery glow over the cold stone floor, but even its light could not pierce the darkness seeping into Kael’s mind. He slept soundlessly, his breath steady, yet his subconscious was restless, stirring with memories that he wish he forget—memories that belonged to himself who had died in agony, betrayed and broken.A deep chill surrounded him. Then, the silence shattered.

  A sharp pain erupted in his chest, and Kael found himself standing in the midst of a battlefield, blood and death staining the earth. The metallic scent of blood mixed with the acrid stench of fire, the embers of destruction glowing in the darkness. He could hear the echoes of swords clashing, the cries of the fallen, the desperate gasps of those clinging to their last breaths. Yet his gaze was fixed only on one thing—his past self.

  Asael Kian Ravenwood lay sprawled on the cold ground, his long silver-white hair soaked with his own blood, stormy gray eyes dulled with betrayal and pain. A jagged sword was buried deep in his chest, twisted cruelly by the very man he once trusted.

  Ashen Vilebane stood above him, his expression twisted with satisfaction. The golden glow of fire illuminated his face, his crimson eyes cold and devoid of regret. He tilted his head, his lips curling into a sneer as he whispered words that burned into Kael’s soul even now:

  “You were nothing but a stepping stone to my victory.”

  Asael’s lips trembled, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. His fingers weakly reached forward, but not for Ashen—for something beyond him. Yet his strength failed, and his body slumped, his vision flickering as darkness crept in.

  Then—the scene changed into the last fragments of Asael's memory.

  A desperate voice.

  “Asael!”

  Kael’s gaze snapped toward the source, his heartbeat hammering painfully in his chest. A cloaked figure rode into the ruins, their black cloak billowing behind them. The figure leaped down from the horse, boots splashing into the bloodied mud as they hurriedly searched among the bodies.

  “Asael! Where are you?!”

  The voice cracked with desperation, filled with sorrow so raw it sent a chill down Kael’s spine. He watched as the figure, hands trembling, turned over fallen knights and soldiers, searching relentlessly.

  Then, they stopped.

  A breath hitched. A step faltered. A muffled gasp escaped as the figure stumbled toward Asael’s lifeless body.

  The moment the hooded person fell to their knees beside Asael, a strangled cry tore through the silence.

  “No... No, no, no—” The voice broke, heavy with unbearable grief. Gentle yet trembling hands cradled Asael’s blood-soaked body, their grip tightening as if trying to piece him back together. The stormy gray jade necklace around the figure’s neck gleamed faintly in the dim light of the moon.

  Kael felt his chest tighten. The sorrow in that voice, the desperation in their touch—it was real. This person had mourned him, had grieved for him in a way no one else had. He had died thinking he was alone, abandoned, yet here was someone who had cared enough to hold him even in death.

  A warm droplet landed on Asael’s cold cheek. Tears. The cloaked figure was crying.

  Kael clenched his fists. He wanted to reach out, to uncover the hood, to see the face of the one who had called his name with such anguish. But his body remained frozen, trapped in this dream of his past, forced to relive his final moments without the power to change them.

  Then, the figure whispered shakily, “If only... If only I had been faster...”

  A single tear slipped from Kael’s closed eyes in reality as his sleeping form trembled slightly. The dream continued, the haunting cries of the cloaked figure echoing in the ruins of a life stolen too soon. Kael jolted awake, his breath uneven as his body trembled from the vivid dream. His heart pounded heavily in his chest, the remnants of Asael's final moments lingering in his mind like an inescapable shadow. His stormy gray eyes, filled with unspoken pain, gazed at the ceiling as he tried to steady his erratic breathing.

  Rubbing his face, he let out a slow, shuddering exhale before shifting his posture. He pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, resting his chin against his folded arms. His gaze drifted toward the window where the dark sky stretched endlessly, stars faintly twinkling in the distant heavens.

  The memory of that cloaked figure haunted him. The desperate cries, the trembling hands that reached for his lifeless body, the stormy jade necklace that glimmered in the dim ruins—the sight made Kael’s chest ache in ways he couldn’t understand. Who was that person? Why did their voice feel so painfully familiar?

  His fingers curled slightly as he tried to grasp onto the fleeting echoes of the voice, but no matter how hard he searched through his memories, it slipped through his grasp like water. His brows furrowed in frustration, but deep inside, an overwhelming sense of sorrow gnawed at him. Someone had mourned him. Someone had shed tears for him. But he couldn’t even remember who they were.

  He stayed in his curled position for almost an hour, lost in the silence of the night, before he finally moved.

  With a deep breath, he forced himself up from his bed, his bare feet touching the cold wooden floor. He needed to clear his mind. He needed to prepare. The estate still lay in a dead hush; only the faintest rustling of wind through the trees broke the quiet. It was the perfect time to slip away unnoticed.

  Moving to the basin, Kael splashed cold water on his face, washing away the exhaustion and the remnants of sleep. His hands were steady, but his heart was far from calm. Stripping off his nightwear, he stepped into the bath, letting the warm water envelop him. It soothed his tense muscles, but when his eyes drifted downward, they locked onto a deep, faded scar on his chest.

  For a long moment, he simply stared.

  The wound was old, the skin slightly raised and pale against his flesh. His fingertips traced the mark absentmindedly.

  "Here..." he murmured to himself, voice barely above a whisper.

  Right there—right where Ashen had plunged his sword through him. The very spot where crimson had blossomed across his robes, where the pain had ripped through him like fire.

  Even in this new body, even in a different lifetime, the scar remained. A cruel reminder that even death did not erase the past.

  Kael's lips pressed into a thin line. He forced himself to look away, submerging himself fully beneath the water for a brief moment before emerging with a quiet sigh. This life may have given him a new name, a new face, and a new body—but the past was still his. And no matter how much time passed, he would never forget.

  Kael moved toward his modest wardrobe, selecting the simplest attire he could find. A grey long-sleeve loose shirt, neatly tucked into black fitted pants, gave him a plain yet refined look. His servant had already prepared a simple black hooded cloak, which Kael draped over his shoulders, fastening it securely. His long black hair was gathered into a high ponytail, strands slipping through his fingers as he adorned it with a few small, simple accessories. To complete his disguise, he slipped on a pair of black boots that matched the rest of his outfit.

  Once fully dressed, Kael stepped before the mirror. His gloved fingers pulled the hood over his head, casting a shadow over his face. The dim candlelight flickered, revealing the sharp angles of his features beneath the cloak’s shade. His breath hitched slightly—this reflection, this presence—he looked almost identical to his past self, Asael. A ghost of his former life stared back at him, unspoken emotions swirling in his chest.

  Breaking from his thoughts, Kael turned toward the young servant who stood nearby, watching him with quiet concern. "Bring me a piece of white cloth," Kael requested.

  The young servant hesitated, clearly puzzled by the request. However, without questioning further, he turned and retrieved a neatly folded strip of white cloth from a drawer, placing it into Kael’s waiting palm.

  Kael unfolded the cloth slowly, running his fingers over the fabric before raising it to his face. With practiced ease, he secured the cloth around his eyes, covering them completely.

  "Young Master... why do you cover your eyes?" the young servant finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

  Kael remained silent for a moment, adjusting the knot behind his head. Then, he spoke, his voice calm yet unreadable. "This will make it easier to go unnoticed. No one will recognize me like this."

  The young servant studied him for a long moment before nodding. "I see. Indeed... it does suit you."

  Kael pulled the hood lower, fully obscuring his features. He glanced once more at the mirror, his hidden eyes staring back at the blindfolded reflection. He nodded slightly to himself, satisfied, before turning toward the door.

  With careful, deliberate movements, the young servant guided Kael through the quiet halls of the grand manor, their footsteps barely making a sound against the polished floors. At the very back of the estate, they reached the discreet exit where a simple carriage without a family crest awaited. A servant, already seated as the driver, adjusted the reins, ready to depart.

  The young servant stepped forward, opening the carriage door for Kael. Before he stepped inside, the young servant gave a slight bow. "Please be careful, Young Master. The town can be unpredictable."

  Kael paused, then gave the young man a small, appreciative nod. "I will."

  The young servant watched as Kael climbed into the carriage, his form blending into the darkness. With a quiet flick of the reins, the horses set into motion, pulling the carriage away from the Vladimir estate and into the silent, sleeping city beyond.

  As the carriage rolled steadily along the dimly lit path, the sky remained cloaked in darkness, a thin veil of mist weaving through the trees. The sound of hooves against damp earth echoed softly, but aside from that, the world was eerily silent. Too silent.

  Kael, seated inside the carriage, felt an unsettling sensation prickle at the back of his mind. Though his body was weak and fragile, his senses were sharper than most, an unexpected gift from the original owner of this body. His ears caught the absence of the usual nocturnal sounds—the rustling of leaves, the distant calls of animals, the whisper of the wind. It was as if nature itself held its breath.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  His fingers tightened slightly against his lap as he called out, his voice calm yet firm. "Be on your guard. Something is amiss."

  The servant driving the carriage, a young man who had served Kael faithfully, nodded in agreement. "Understood, young master. I will keep my eyes open."

  Just as the words left his mouth, the carriage jolted to a sudden, violent stop. The force sent Kael slightly forward, and though he managed to brace himself, the abrupt movement made his weakened body tremble. He let out a slow breath, steadying himself before speaking again.

  "What happened?" His voice remained composed, though his muscles tensed in anticipation.

  The servant peered ahead, his eyes narrowing. "It seems a merchant's carriage has been abandoned in the middle of the road."

  Kael remained silent for a moment before finally deciding, "Go check it. See if there is anyone in need of help."

  The servant hesitated briefly worried about the safety of his master, glancing back at Kael, but then nodded. "Yes, young master."

  Opening the carriage door, the servant stepped down first before offering Kael a hand. Kael, maintaining his usual poise, accepted the gesture and descended onto the damp ground with graceful precision. The scent of rain-soaked earth filled his senses as he stood still, his hood drawn over his head, his covered eyes giving him an almost spectral appearance.

  The servant quickly moved toward the abandoned carriage, leaving Kael momentarily alone. He listened carefully, his heartbeat steady, his mind already anticipating the possibility of an ambush.

  The young servant hesitated as he carefully approached the abandoned carriage, his heart pounding in his chest. The scent of iron filled his nostrils before he even reached the door. Blood. His brown eyes widened in alarm as he caught sight of a crimson stain darkening the driver’s seat. His breath hitched, and without a second thought, he turned sharply toward Kael, shouting with urgency,

  "Young master! Step back! Be careful!"

  His panicked voice echoed through the quiet, tension-thick air, but Kael remained composed, standing still as if unfazed. Just as the young servant took a step forward, a sudden gust of wind howled past Kael’s hooded face, slicing through the eerie silence. His instincts screamed at him to move, but his weak body barely allowed him to evade in time. His footing faltered, and he stumbled backward, losing balance. Just before he could collapse onto the damp ground, firm hands caught him—strong and steady.

  "Are you alright, young master?" The young servant’s deep voice was filled with concern, his grip unwavering as he steadied Kael in his arms. Kael blinked beneath his cloth-covered eyes and gave a small nod.

  But before relief could settle, a sharp whistle cut through the air—a small dagger, swift and precise, aimed directly at Kael. The young servant reacted instantly, his reflexes quicker than the eye. With a swift motion, he deflected the dagger with his own short blade, the metallic clang ringing into the darkness. His brown eyes narrowed as he glared toward the dense trees on the side of the path. Something lurked in the shadows.

  "Young master, I—"

  "Go," Kael’s calm but firm voice interrupted. "Find them. I’ll be fine."

  The young servant clenched his jaw, his hesitation clear, but Kael’s unwavering tone left no room for argument. With determination flashing in his eyes, he nodded.

  "Be careful," he muttered before sprinting into the dark forest, vanishing amidst the towering trees. "Don't kill them," Kael says to the young servant who nodded.

  The moment the young servant disappeared, the distinct sound of metal clashing echoed through the night. Kael knew the fight had begun. But now, he had his own battle to face.

  Low, amused chuckles surrounded him, sending chills down his spine. Slowly, he turned his head to where the sound originated. Four figures emerged from the darkness, their eyes glinting with malice as they approached him like hungry wolves circling their prey.

  "Well, well," one of them sneered, crossing his arms. "What do we have here? A blind little noble lost in the dark?"

  Another laughed mockingly. "This is going to be easy. Just take whatever he has and be done with it. He’s barely standing!"

  Kael remained still, his covered eyes giving nothing away. His expression turned cold, his lips curling into an unreadable smirk.

  "Easy?" he murmured, his voice dangerously quiet. "You might want to reconsider that." His tone was cold and distant just like his past selves.

  The young servant clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on his weapon as he faced five ambushers in the depths of the dark forest. Their movements were sloppy, but they still carried weapons—daggers, rusted swords, even a spiked club. The young servant didn’t hesitate. He moved with swift precision, his blade dancing in the dim moonlight, cutting through the air as he deflected their attacks.

  A grunt, a sharp cry—one ambusher stumbled back, clutching his bleeding arm. Another tried to swing at him, but the servant ducked low, sweeping the man’s legs from under him before driving a precise strike to his gut.

  “Damn it! He’s too fast!” one of the ambushers shouted.

  “You idiots, surround him!” another barked, but before they could follow through, the young servant’s foot slammed into one of their heads, sending the man crashing into a nearby tree. Two of the remaining three backed away nervously, their weapons shaking in their grip. The last one dropped his weapon, raising his hands in surrender.

  The young servant took a step forward, scanning the area. That’s when he saw it—just beyond the trees, a hostage bound and gagged, slumped against a cart. His expression hardened. He finished off the last two resisting ambushers, knocking them unconscious with precise strikes.

  Then, turning to the one who had surrendered, he ordered, “Untie the hostage and then tie yourselves up. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

  The defeated bandits wasted no time following his orders. Within moments, the hostage was freed, shaking and muttering his gratitude, while the remaining ambushers, battered and bruised, sat on the ground, their own hands bound behind their backs.

  Meanwhile, back in the clearing, Kael stood still as the first ambusher lunged at him. Unlike before, this time Kael was prepared. His body may have been weak, but his mind was as sharp as ever. He moved swiftly, sidestepping the attack just in time. His footwork was precise, his breathing controlled.

  The ambusher barely had time to react before Kael’s hand shot forward, pressing force into the man’s chest with a controlled burst of spiritual mana. The man gasped as an invisible force sent him sprawling onto the ground, unconscious.

  The other three hesitated, their smirks faltering.

  “Heh, you really think we’ll lose to some blind noble kid?” one of them sneered. “That was just luck—”

  Before he could finish, Kael shifted his stance, his fingers flicking in a fluid motion. A sudden pressure burst forth, invisible yet undeniable. The ground cracked slightly beneath his feet as two more ambushers were slammed backward, crashing into a nearby tree and slumping over with pained groans.

  The last remaining ambusher took a step back, sweat beading on his forehead.

  “You… y-you’re not normal…” he stammered, dropping his dagger. “I-I surrender! Don’t kill me!”

  Kael’s face remained impassive, though his chest burned, his throat ached—he was pushing this fragile body beyond its limits. But he would not show weakness. Instead, he simply gestured with his hand.

  “Then tie yourself up,” he commanded coldly.

  The last ambusher scrambled to obey, his hands shaking as he secured his own bindings. Just as he finished, the young servant emerged from the dark forest, dragging the five other defeated ambushers with him. The freed merchant, though weak, trailed behind him.

  The moment the young servant saw the scene before him—Kael standing calmly amid his fallen opponents—his eyes widened in shock. His concern overpowered his amazement, and he rushed to his young master.

  “Young Master! Are you alright? Are you injured anywhere?” His brown eyes darted frantically over Kael’s form, his hands hovering as if afraid to touch him.

  Kael shook his head, though the motion made his vision blur slightly. “I am fine.”

  But he wasn’t. He could feel it—his chest seizing, his throat burning. He had pushed himself too far.

  The young servant frowned, unconvinced. “But you look—”

  Before he could finish, Kael opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, a thick cough wracked his frame, and a deep red liquid spilled past his lips. The young servant’s heart dropped.

  “Young Master!” he shouted, his panic rising as Kael swayed unsteadily.

  The merchant, who had been watching, hurried forward. “He’s injured! I have potions in my carriage!” Without waiting for permission, he sprinted off to retrieve the remedy.

  The young servant caught Kael before he could collapse, his grip firm yet careful. “Hold on, Young Master. You’ll be alright.” His voice was filled with worry.

  The merchant returned moments later, pressing a small vial into the young servant’s hand. “This should help stop the internal bleeding.”

  The young servant wasted no time, carefully pouring the potion into Kael’s mouth. The moment the liquid hit his tongue, Kael felt the burning sensation in his throat ease, the pain in his chest dulling slightly. His breath evened out, and his body, finally granted a moment of rest, succumbed to exhaustion. His eyes fluttered closed.

  The young servant let out a shaky breath of relief. “He’s just resting,” he reassured himself more than anyone else.

  With careful hands, he carried Kael into the carriage, laying him down gently on the seat. After making sure his young master was as comfortable as possible, he moved to the driver’s seat.

  “Let’s move,” he said, his voice firm with newfound determination.

  With the freed merchant’s carriage leading the way, they continued their journey toward the city, the sun barely beginning to peek over the horizon. As the nine ambusher was tied separately behind each carriage was running.

  And in the back of the carriage, Kael, despite his exhaustion, still clutched at the pain in his chest—not just from the battle, but from the memory of the past life that still haunted him.

  The flickering glow of candlelight cast long shadows across the grand hall as Asael stood before King Themis, his expression impassive as he relayed his latest report. The king, a regal figure with sharp golden eyes, listened with his chin resting against his knuckles, nodding occasionally at Asael’s words.

  Just as Asael finished, the heavy doors burst open, and an all-too-familiar voice called out with casual arrogance.

  "Father! I heard Asael is here!"

  The crown prince, Rayne, strode in, his long blond hair swaying with each step. His oceanic-blue eyes shone with mischief as he approached with an air of careless ease. King Themis let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temples as if already expecting the disturbance.

  "Rayne, how many times have I told you to knock before barging into my study?" the king chastised, his tone exasperated yet weary.

  Rayne grinned, unfazed. "Oh, come on, Father. This is hardly a formal meeting." His gaze landed on Asael, and a slow, lopsided smile curved his lips. "Besides, I have something to discuss with Asael."

  Asael let out a quiet sigh, already irritated. "If it's not important, leave. I have more pressing matters to attend to."

  Rayne gasped dramatically, pressing a hand over his heart. "You wound me! Must you always be so cold, Asael?" He leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling with something unreadable. "Are you really this heartless, or do you simply enjoy ignoring me?"

  Asael scoffed, his patience thinning. "Unlike you, I have responsibilities beyond idling away my days in luxury. If you have nothing of worth to say, don't waste my time."

  The teasing glint in Rayne's eyes dimmed slightly, though he still wore his usual smile. "You really have no patience for me, do you?"

  "No," Asael answered bluntly, his annoyance sharpening his tone. "You're insufferable. No matter how many times I push you away, you keep coming back like a stray dog that refuses to learn. Don't you understand? I don't want you around."

  Silence followed. The words left Asael’s lips before he could reconsider them. In his past life, he had thought nothing of it—Rayne was irritating, nothing more. But as Kael watched from his dream-state, he saw something he had missed before.

  Rayne stood frozen, his usual easy smile faltering. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if debating whether to reach for Asael, but stopped midair. His lips parted slightly, moving to form words, but no sound came out. His expression—one that Asael had dismissed in his past life—now struck Kael deep in the chest.

  Was that...hurt?

  The memory played on, but Kael no longer heard the words. He was too focused on Rayne's pained expression, something he had been blind to before. His heart clenched. In that moment, something unspoken lingered between them, lost in the space where Rayne’s hand had hesitated.

  As the dream faded, Kael felt an ache he couldn't quite explain. The weight of his past, the things he had once ignored, now settled heavily upon him.

  Perhaps he had been mistaken about more than just Rayne’s shamelessness.

  Kael stirred in his sleep, his face damp with sweat as discomfort marred his usually composed features. His breaths came in shallow gasps, his chest rising and falling unevenly. In the depths of his dreams, echoes of his past life as Asael still lingered, the sight of Crown Prince Rayne's pained expression imprinted vividly in his mind. His fingers twitched, gripping the fabric of the blanket beneath him before his body jolted awake.

  His breath hitched as he sat up, stray strands of his raven-black hair falling against his pale cheeks. His high ponytail remained neatly tied, adorned with subtle accessories that glinted under the dim candlelight. As Kael's vision adjusted, he found himself in a simple yet well-kept inn room. His cloak, which he barely remembered removing, hung neatly on a peg near the door. His throat felt dry, and a dull throbbing pulsed in his temples. Slowly, he swung his legs off the bed and wobbled slightly as he stood.

  With unsteady steps, he approached the window, resting a hand against the frame for support before lowering himself onto the small stool beside it. The cool touch of the wood soothed him, yet the dizziness remained. Kael exhaled deeply, running a hand over his face, his thoughts still clouded with the remnants of his dream. Why did that memory unsettle him so much now? Back then, he never cared to look back at Rayne’s expression after speaking so harshly. But now…

  A firm knock at the door snapped him from his thoughts. Before he could answer, the door creaked open, revealing his young servant, Quin, carrying a steaming bowl of soup on a wooden tray. Upon seeing his young master out of bed, Quin’s expression twisted into a mix of concern and restraint, as if trying to control his worry.

  "Young Master!" Quin’s voice was urgent but not loud. He quickly walked in, setting the tray down on the small table before Kael. "Are you feeling alright? Any discomfort?"

  Kael blinked at him before shaking his head. "I’m fine," he murmured, though his voice was hoarse. "How long was I asleep?"

  Quin hesitated before answering, "The whole day, Young Master. It’s already past six in the evening."

  Kael let out a quiet sigh, rubbing his temples. "I see."

  As Quin carefully ladled the soup into a bowl, he continued his report. "The nine ambushers have been dealt with. The local soldiers have taken them into custody, and we received a reward from both the soldiers and the grateful merchants."

  Quin then pulled two large pouches from his belt and placed them on the table in front of Kael. The distinct clinking of coins inside made Kael pause, his eyes narrowing slightly. Only now did he realize—he had left the estate without bringing a single coin.

  Before he could speak, Quin continued in a matter-of-fact tone. "One is yours, and the other is mine."

  Kael nodded in approval, about to reach for his share when Quin swiftly pulled both pouches open. Without hesitation, the young servant poured half of his own coins into Kael’s pouch, effectively dividing the sum unevenly. Quin then secured the pouches and handed the heavier one to Kael, keeping the lighter one for himself.

  Kael stared at the pouch in his hands before glancing up at Quin, who looked completely unfazed. The realization hit him, and a rare cough of embarrassment escaped Kael’s lips.

  Quin raised an eyebrow. "Young Master, don’t tell me you left the estate without a single coin?"

  Kael pursed his lips and looked away. "...Perhaps."

  Quin sighed, shaking his head. "I thought so. Then, this should at least keep you from going broke too soon."

  Kael shot him a mildly exasperated look but accepted the pouch nonetheless.

  "By the way, Young Master," Quin spoke again, his tone a little softer. "I haven’t introduced myself properly. My name is Quin."

  Kael nodded, his lips curving slightly. "Quin. Noted."

  With that, Quin excused himself, returning to his duty of guarding the door. As the room fell into silence once more, Kael remained seated by the window, absently staring out at the darkening sky. His fingers tightened around the pouch of coins, yet his mind was elsewhere—back in the dream, back to Rayne’s face and the way his lips moved, forming words that Kael never caught.

  Something about it unsettled him. He had always assumed Rayne was simply being a bothersome prince, but perhaps…

  Kael exhaled sharply, leaning his head against the window frame.

  What exactly had the Crown Prince been trying to say to him that day? This thought linger on his mind until he fell asleep on the table after sipping the warm soup Quin bought. The piece of cloth still covered his eyes, he never intended to removed it when he's outside the estate.

  Kael slept peacefully, his breathing even, unaware that fate was about to reunite him with someone from his past. The dim glow of the lantern outside flickered against the wooden walls of the inn, casting long shadows that swayed like silent specters. His body, still recovering from exhaustion, remained motionless under the soft covers.

  Yet, outside his room, Quin stood still guarding Kael's room.

  Inside, Kael stirred. A sudden chill ran down his spine, his body tensing even in sleep. A name—unspoken yet deeply familiar—echoed in his subconscious, stirring something within him. His peaceful slumber was soon to be disturbed, and with it, his fragile strength.

  "Rayne" a name subconsciously muttered in his sleep.

  To be continued.