Rebirth System: Blood and Ash

Two Years has passed since the fall of the Byzeth king.

The moon held low in the dark sky, offering silver light upon the roads of the Byzeth Kingdom.

The wind carried the scent of the northern fields, and a man in a worn, dark cloak rode swiftly upon a horse, its hooves thundering against the earth.

His face was obscured, a hood shadowing his features, but his intent was clear—there was no hesitation in his pace, no falter in his gaze as he urged his steed onward through the winding paths, past the small towns and provinces of Byzeth.

He pressed onward through the night, his silhouette became a fleeting after image across villages that slumbered beneath the stars.

Fields transformed to cobblestone streets as he approached the capital, the proud structures of the city rising before him, tall and imposing. He did not slow as he rode through the gates, past the watchful eyes of guards stationed along the path.

His destination stil lay ahead—the castle, its spires piercing the night sky like jagged teeth.

The guards at the castle gates, their armor not of ordinary make, stopped him at last. They were clad in iron and steel, yes, but something more: strange devices adorned their arms and chests, runes etched into metal plates, glowing faintly with the light of mana crystals embedded in the mechanisms.

Magic danced around them like a silent accomplice.

"Halt," one of them commanded, his voice cold.

"State your purpose."

The man raised his head, his voice steady.

"I bring an urgent message for the king."

The guard scoffed, glancing at his companion.

"No one just rides into the castle and demands an audience with the king. Who are you?"

"I am a messenger," the cloaked man replied calmly, "and my message is for the king's eyes only."

A tense silence passed between them, the guards exchanging looks. Finally, one of them nodded and turned toward the castle doors. "Wait here," he said, disappearing inside to inform whoever would decide the messenger's fate.

When the doors swung open again, the cloaked man was ushered inside, the tension rose as the guards led him through long stone hallways, lit by the flicker of torchlight.

The man said nothing, his face still hidden beneath his hood as they finally arrived at a balcony overlooking the night-shrouded city.

There, waiting for him, stood Serina.

Her eyes, sharp and calculating, assessed him the moment he stepped into her presence. She wore a flowing robe, her long dark hair swept to one side as she faced him, the faintest hint of curiosity in her gaze.

"And what message do you carry?" she asked, her voice smooth but tinged with authority.

The man hesitated briefly.

"I cannot say. The message is for the king."

Serina's eyes narrowed.

"And yet, here you are standing before me. You might as well deliver it now."

For a moment, the man remained silent, as if weighing his options. Then, with a sigh, he reached into his cloak and produced a letter, handing it over with some reluctance.

Serina took it, her eyes scanning the parchment as the wind stirred around them. The further she read, the more her expression hardened. Her fingers tightened around the letter, a slow tension building beneath her calm exterior.

"Do you understand the gravity of this accusation?" she asked, her voice low, dangerous. "Treason is not a charge made lightly, especially against a royal. You risk your life bringing this."

The man's hooded face dipped slightly. "I am only a carrier, bearing word from the Draken Imperiality. The king should not shoot the messenger."

Serina's eyes narrowed as she regarded him.

"He's shot men for less."

She waved a hand toward the guards.

"Take him to a chamber. He is not to leave until I say so."

The guards moved swiftly, taking the cloaked man by the arms and leading him away. Serina watched him go before turning, the letter still clenched in her hand, and walked deeper into the castle.

The doors to a secluded courtyard swung open at her approach. The guards at the entrance nodded to her, allowing her through without a word.

She entered the quiet space, the moonlight painting shadows on the stone path that led to the center where a large, round, steaming tub stood. The scent of herbs and hot water filled the air.

There, reclining in the bath, his head tilted back, was Aric.

His eyes were closed, his chiseled form relaxed as the steam rose around him, the night's cool breeze barely touching him. He gazed up at the moon, his mind far from the troubles of the kingdom for the moment.

Serina stepped forward, the soft rustle of her robe the only sound as she approached. She stood beside the tub, holding the letter out to him.

"We have a matter of significance," she said.

Aric opened his eyes lazily, taking the letter from her hand. He read in silence, his brow furrowing as his eyes moved across the page. When he finished, he exhaled a long breath and handed it back to her.

"How certain are you of its authenticity?" he asked, his voice calm but edged with the weight of what the letter contained.

Serina's eyes flickered. "The man who brought it bore the mark of the flame crusaders. The mark of dragons."

Aric's gaze lingered on her, a moment of contemplation passing between them.

Then, without another word, he stood from the bath. The water cascaded off his body in rivulets, steam rising from his skin as he stepped out onto the stone floor, his muscular frame bathed in the pale light of the moon.

Serina moved softly, picking up his robe from a nearby chair and walking to his side. With practiced ease, she slid the robe over his shoulders, the soft fabric clinging to his damp skin.

Her fingers brushed against him briefly before she stepped back.

"Call a meeting of the council," Aric said quietly, fastening the robe around his waist. "It seems the time for my return to the Imperial City has come."

Serina nodded, her eyes unreadable as she turned to leave, the letter still clutched in her hand. As she disappeared into the shadows, Aric remained where he stood, gazing out at the moonlit sky once more.

The time has come for a greater step.

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