Rain slanted across the campus courtyard, painting everything in streaks of silver and gray. Aurelius Kael trudged along, his hoodie soaked, backpack heavy with neglected textbooks and scraps of forgotten notes. Every step felt weighted, not just by the physical burden, but by the invisible chains of memory he could no longer trust.
He had been skipping classes more often lately. Not out of laziness, but because the gaps — the blackouts, the fragmented awakenings — were growing longer, more insistent. Sitting in lecture halls was no longer safe; he could lose hours mid-sentence, mid-breath, and wake somewhere entirely alien.
Jace had noticed. As always.
"Dude," Jace's voice cut through the drizzle like a lifeline. He jogged up, water dripping from the hood of his jacket. "You've been walking like a ghost all morning. Where've you been?"
Aurelius kept his gaze forward, ignoring the question. "Campus. Library. Cafeteria." He lied smoothly, almost mechanically. The rhythm of his footsteps against the wet concrete was the only thing grounding him.
Jace frowned. "Right… and the cafeteria last week? You disappeared for forty-five minutes, and no one saw you except the janitor. He's still telling everyone about how you just… vanished."
Aurelius flinched. Not physically, but in that way that made his stomach knot. The janitor didn't know the half of it. He didn't know that in those forty-five minutes, Aurelius had stood on a battlefield of fire, blood, and crowns, that a woman's voice had pleaded with him to remember, to find her before the world burned. That each blackout left a thread of the Emperor inside him struggling to claw back to life.
"I… I don't know what happened," he muttered, voice low. The lie sounded hollow even to him.
Jace's gaze softened, but not in pity. Concern, yes, but also fear. He knew something was growing inside Aurelius that even Aurelius couldn't name yet. "You really need to see someone," he said quietly. "Not just me, not just a friend. You're… changing."
Aurelius wanted to laugh at the suggestion, but the laugh caught in his throat. Changing? He was unrecognizable even to himself. The man in the mirror this morning had eyes too sharp, too old, too burdened — and he wasn't sure if that was just fatigue, or the Emperor bleeding through the college student's face.
By evening, Aurelius found himself wandering the city streets alone, the sky overcast and heavy. Streetlights flickered against puddles, casting distorted reflections, and he kept seeing — almost in the corner of his vision — shapes that didn't belong. Shadows that moved like figures in armor. A crown of molten gold hovering above some unseen throne. The rain whispered voices he almost recognized, calling his true name with soft insistence.
He stopped in front of a small shop window, the neon sign cracked and buzzing. Inside, mannequins stared blankly, but for a heartbeat, their eyes gleamed red — and he saw her. Not fully, just a glimpse: a woman, regal, desperate, reaching out.
He blinked. She was gone.
Shaking his head, Aurelius muttered to himself, "It's just stress. It's just stress."
But deep down, he knew it wasn't.
Later, in his dorm room, he sank into the worn armchair by the window, staring at the storm outside. His textbooks were scattered, notes half-written, the room smelling of cold coffee and old paper. And yet, he felt awake in ways he hadn't before — not in consciousness, but in presence. Something inside him — the Emperor — was stirring.
He pressed his hand to his arm, feeling the faint, almost imperceptible glow beneath the skin. The sigils pulsed softly, as if acknowledging his awareness. He could no longer pretend this was normal.
Jace arrived without knocking, as usual. "I stayed after to see if you were okay," he said, dropping onto the edge of Aurelius's bed. "You weren't answering texts… not that I expect you to. But…" He hesitated, eyes narrowing. "I think… I think you're not just having blackouts anymore. You're… leaving."
Aurelius looked at him, the heaviness in his chest settling. "Leaving? What do you mean?"
Jace leaned forward. "During your last blackout — the one after the cafeteria — I followed you. Not physically, but…" He trailed off, rubbing his forehead. "I don't know how to explain it. You weren't just asleep. It was like… reality bent around you. You walked through places you couldn't have reached. You… reacted to things that weren't there."
Aurelius swallowed hard, staring at the glow under his sleeves. He couldn't deny it anymore. "It's happening," he whispered. "I think I'm remembering… fragments of something else."
"Fragments?" Jace asked carefully. "You mean your dreams?"
Aurelius nodded, almost afraid to speak. "More than dreams. I'm… waking in pieces of another life. A life where I was… someone important. Powerful. Terrible, maybe."
Jace's expression was grave. "I've been keeping track," he admitted softly. "Of everything you mumble in your sleep, every blackout. Fire. Thrones. Women. Names I don't understand. I thought it was… I don't know. A psych thing. But… it's more than that, isn't it?"
Aurelius's throat tightened. "It is. And it's getting stronger. Every day it feels less like memory and more like… me trying to pull myself back together. Trying to remember who I am."
The hours passed. Rain pounded against the window, the city's lights flickering through the haze. Jace watched him, silent but alert. Aurelius could feel the pulse of the Emperor's life beneath his skin, a heartbeat older than any human measure.
At some point, the world outside his dorm began to blur. The light of the streetlamps warped, stretching into something long and vertical, like the towers of a city he couldn't name. Shadows shifted unnaturally, forming silhouettes of soldiers kneeling, banners waving, fire curling across the horizon.
He clutched his head, vision swimming. "Stop… stop… I can't…"
Jace grabbed his shoulders. "Hey! Breathe! Focus! You're here! I've got you!"
Aurelius shut his eyes. For the first time in months, he allowed the Emperor to come forward. Let the memories crash against his mind. Let the vision of a burning empire, of betrayal and a crown, fill him.
The room went silent. Outside, the rain eased to a drizzle. And when he opened his eyes, the glow beneath his skin was stronger, more deliberate, as if the sigils themselves were alive and waiting.
"I'm not just a student," Aurelius whispered. "I'm not just… this."
Jace nodded slowly, understanding the weight of what Aurelius just admitted, even without fully comprehending it. "Then… we figure it out. Together."
Aurelius felt a flicker of warmth — not human warmth, but the faint recognition of an ally in this strange, fractured life. For the first time, the idea of facing the fragments of his past didn't feel entirely impossible.
And deep inside, something ancient stirred, whispering his true name — calling him back to the throne he had forgotten.
The night had deepened into something almost tangible, heavy and wet with rain, yet the city felt different — distorted, as if reality itself had softened at the edges. Aurelius could sense it in the vibrations beneath his feet, in the way the neon lights flickered with unsteady pulse, like the heartbeat of some distant, watching world.
He paced the small dorm room, Jace following silently. Both knew there was no need to speak; even the air seemed to hum with understanding.
"I can feel it… even when I'm awake," Aurelius whispered, pressing his palm against the wall. The faint glow beneath his skin flared in response. Sigils pulsed, chasing along his veins like living circuits, almost painful in their insistence. He had tried to ignore them before, brushed them off as stress-induced hallucinations. But now, they demanded attention.
Jace leaned against the edge of the bed, eyes sharp, voice low. "It's more than hallucinations. Something's bleeding into your world — or maybe you're bleeding into it. I don't know which is worse."
Aurelius closed his eyes, shivering. The visions he'd been trying to hold at bay broke through the thin barrier between waking and sleeping. He saw again the battlefield: towers of black stone rising from rivers of molten silver, the air thick with smoke and screaming. Soldiers in gleaming armor knelt before him, raising banners that tore themselves to ash. And the crown — the one he had forgotten — hovered above him, heavy with expectation, pulsing with heat and power.
"Remember," a voice whispered, low and insistent, almost drowned out by the wind. "Remember who you are."
He gasped, shaking his head. "No… not yet…"
But it was too late. The memory, or the echo of it, wrapped around him like tendrils, sinking into his skin, into his bones. He staggered back, colliding with his desk, knocking a lamp over. Sparks danced across the floor as if reality were fraying.
Jace's voice cut through the chaos. "Aurelius! Snap out of it!"
Aurelius blinked. The room settled for a heartbeat, but something remained altered. A shadow lingered in the corner, twisting unnaturally, stretching and folding in on itself. He blinked again — it was gone, yet the sense of being watched persisted.
"What is happening to me?" he whispered, voice trembling.
"Something you were always meant to face," Jace replied cautiously. "Your mind isn't breaking — it's opening."
Hours passed, or maybe minutes. Time no longer obeyed its usual rules. Aurelius wandered through the dorm building, each hallway morphing slightly as he moved. A door that had led to the bathroom yesterday now opened onto a vast hall of stone, impossibly tall ceilings carved with unfamiliar symbols, flickering with fire that had no heat. He froze.
"You cannot hide anymore, Aurelius Kael," came the whisper, deeper than the walls could carry. "The empire remembers you, and so do the crowns that watch."
He spun, and for a brief moment, the hall dissolved into the courtyard from his dreams — banners torn, armies kneeling, ash falling like snow. Then it snapped back. The dorm hallway was empty, linoleum scuffed and wet from rain tracked in by students who hadn't noticed the strange shifting of reality around him.
Jace appeared at his side without a sound, eyes wide. "Okay… that's new," he muttered. "It's happening here too."
Aurelius looked at him, voice hoarse. "It's not just dreams anymore. The Emperor… he's waking inside me."
The following day brought little relief. Lectures blurred into haze. Professors' words were drowned by the echoes of another life — strategy meetings in candlelit chambers, whispers of betrayal in corridors of stone, the laughter of allies and enemies alike. Aurelius could write nothing, take no notes, even speak without tripping over fragments of memory that didn't belong to him.
Jace stayed close. He had begun keeping a journal, documenting every subtle change, every hallucination, every lost moment. He refused to leave Aurelius alone, sensing the gravity of what was happening.
At lunch, Aurelius sat silently in the cafeteria, hands wrapped around a lukewarm coffee, staring at the flickering fluorescent lights. And then it happened: a ripple. Not in the air, not in the room, but in reality itself. Students' faces shimmered for a heartbeat, revealing something else beneath — eyes too old, shadows that moved independently, whispers in a language he had never learned.
He jerked back, nearly spilling his drink. Jace grabbed his arm. "I see it too," Jace said, voice tight. "This isn't just in your head anymore."
Aurelius swallowed hard. He wanted to scream, to run, but he felt the Emperor's presence tightening its hold, urging him forward. The fragments of memory no longer waited politely. They demanded attention. They demanded recognition.
By evening, Aurelius found himself on the roof of their dorm building. Rain had returned, mist curling around the edges, streetlights beneath a blur of yellow and white. He knelt, letting the cold bite his hands, letting the wind whip around him, trying to ground himself.
"Do you know what it feels like?" he whispered to Jace, who crouched beside him. "To remember everything, and nothing at the same time?"
Jace shook his head, though his eyes were wide with understanding. "I think I can imagine. But… can you control it?"
"No," Aurelius admitted. "Not yet. But I think I'm starting to understand why it matters. The woman… the throne… the empire…" He swallowed, voice dropping to a whisper. "It's not just a dream. It's a warning. Something is calling me, and I don't know if I can ignore it anymore."
Hours later, in the empty dorm room, Aurelius lay awake. The sigils beneath his skin glowed faintly, rhythmically, like the pulse of a living heart. Outside, the city had grown quiet, but in his mind, the empire had not.
"You are the Emperor," the voice whispered again. "You cannot remain lost. Find yourself, or everything will burn."
Aurelius clenched his fists. Pain, longing, and recognition collided within him. A memory flashed — his hands on a throne carved from dark metal, fire licking the walls, a crown heavy upon his brow, and the desperate face of the woman who had called for him centuries ago.
He gasped. The fragments were converging. The Emperor was no longer dormant.
"Jace," he said, voice trembling but resolute. "I… I think I'm ready to start remembering. Everything."
Jace's expression hardened, fear and loyalty warring across his features. "Then we start now. Together. But Aurelius… if this is what I think it is, once you start, there's no going back."
Aurelius nodded, the weight of centuries pressing on him, yet exhilarating. "I know. But I have to. I can't… forget myself any longer."
And in that moment, the first true veil between his two lives shattered. The Emperor was waking. The college student was still here, still human, but no longer alone.
Outside, the city slept, unaware that reality had already begun to bend, that the forgotten crown of an ancient empire had called its rightful heir home.
End of Chapter 9