Eager to learn more about this body, I realized with burning frustration that I had no memories of what the real Alexander had experienced. Every detail eluded me, every moment of his life remained a mystery. Had he been happy? Miserable? A brilliant, admired man, or someone consumed by despair and loneliness? I knew nothing, absolutely nothing, and this void chilled me more than any external cold ever could.
Had he suffered in silence, gnawed by a miserable, invisible life? Or had he drowned in vanity, in fleeting, meaningless pleasures, completely oblivious to the world around him? I could only guess, and each supposition left a bitter taste in my mouth. A cold, icy shiver ran down my spine, what was the point of being reincarnated if one had no memory of the life one now occupied? If all I had received was a foreign body, with its desires, its anger, its secrets, but not a single key to understand them, then why me?
I remained motionless, my gaze lost in the dark corners of my room. Every shadow seemed to whisper answers I could never hear, secrets asleep that this body had accumulated without my access. The wind, slipping through the slightly open window, rustled the curtains in an almost supernatural breath, and each fold of fabric seemed to carry with it the memories of the body I now inhabited… and my own, as if the two lives were merging in the darkness.
My eyes finally landed on a small nightstand, simple yet intriguing. It had a drawer, the contents of which were completely unknown to me. Curiosity drew me toward it, and I opened it slowly, with a mixture of caution and apprehension.
Nothing.Empty.
Yet… something felt off. A vibration, a faint shiver ran through my fingers. I persisted, feeling the wood, exploring every corner carefully. Then my fingers struck against a strange barrier, a false bottom.
I forced it open carefully, and an object fell into my hand, a dilapidated journal, half-burned, as if someone had tried to erase its existence forever. The cover was rough, stained with soot and dried blood, and just seeing this book made me shiver.
Opening it, a sharp pain pierced my chest. Tears filled my eyes against my will, as if this body were crying in my place… as if memories tried to surface, fragile, incomplete, but intensely real.
On the first page, trembling and nearly illegible, was written:
"He wants my death… I know it."
My breath caught, then everything went black.
When I regained consciousness, or what I thought was waking, I found myself facing Aurelius. His usually noble and calm face was smeared with blood. He stood before me, his shadow immense, every muscle in his body taut with power. I lay on the ground, unable to move, staring at him with a mixture of fear and fascination.
He extended his hand toward me, to help… or to kill?
My vision blurred, warped, a mixture of fear and incomprehension. Everything seemed unreal, as if I were floating between two worlds.
I jerked awake, I woke for real this time, gasping, my heart pounding. A maid, the same one who had woken me earlier, stood nearby, her face filled with concern and confusion.
What I had seen…Was it a memory of the real Alexander, or a vision of what was to come?I had no way of knowing, but one thing was certain, my life in this body had taken a turn I could never have imagined.