The memory came like a flood, dragging Adrian under before he could fight it.
He was not himself. He was someone else. Someone larger. Someone whose hands had crushed cities and whose voice had commanded armies of monsters. He stood atop a tower of black stone, looking down at a world he had broken.
Smoke rose from a dozen burning cities. The sky was red with ash. The ground was cracked and bleeding, veins of fire running through the earth like wounds that would not heal.
And somewhere in the distance, he could hear them screaming. His monsters. His army. His children.
They were dying.
He could feel it through the bond. Not one bond. Not two. Hundreds. Thousands. Each death was a thread snapping, a presence winking out like a piece of him was tearing away.
They were being cut down one by one, and he could do nothing. The power that had filled him, that had made him feel like a god, was draining away. He had reached for more. Always more. And now there was nothing left to reach for.
He looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood. It was dried now, flaking at the edges, but he could still feel the warmth of it. He did not remember whose it was. There had been so many.
---
The memory shifted.
He was on his knees now. The tower had fallen. Rubble lay scattered around him, chunks of black stone half-buried in ash. His monsters lay scattered among them, their bodies broken, their eyes empty. He reached for them through the bond, but there was nothing.
No response. No life. Just silence.
A woman stood over him. Her face was familiar. The flower-seller from a city he had destroyed. He remembered her now. She had smiled at him once, when he was passing through with his army. She had given him a daisy. He had crushed it in his fist without thinking.
"Why?" she asked. Her voice was not angry. It was tired. The same tiredness that had been in her eyes when he rode through her city, when he burned her home, when he took everything she had.
He tried to speak but his throat was dry. His tongue was thick in his mouth. No words came.
She knelt beside him. Her hand was small against his chest. He could barely feel it through the armor he no longer wore.
"You could have been anything," she said. "Why did you choose this?"
He did not have an answer.
---
The memory shifted again.
He was lying on cold stone. His body was broken. His power was gone. Around him stood figures he could not quite see. Their faces were blurred, their shapes indistinct, as if the memory itself refused to hold them. But he knew they were powerful. He could feel it. The weight of their presence pressed down on him like a mountain, like the sky itself had fallen.
They had come to stop him. They had come because no one else could.
He looked at the sky. It was clearing now. The ash was settling. The smoke was fading. He could see stars. He had not seen stars in years. He had forgotten how bright they were, how cold.
A voice spoke. Not one of the figures. Something older. Something that had been with him since the beginning, whispering at the edges of his thoughts, urging him toward something he had never understood.
The throne does not make the King. The King makes the throne.
He tried to speak. His throat was raw. His voice was gone. He had screamed too much, commanded too much, taken too much.
There was nothing left.
You were supposed to build. A court. A kingdom. A future. Something that would outlast you. Instead, you reached for power. You took and took until there was nothing left to take.
He looked at his hands. They were clean now. The blood was gone. The power was gone. He was nothing.
They would have followed you. You could have been something more. Now you are only this.
He tried to ask who the voice was. But the words would not come. The stars were fading. The figures were fading. The woman with the flower was fading. Everything was fading.
Build wisely, this time.
---
Adrian woke gasping.
The dormitory room was dark. His shirt was soaked through, plastered to his skin. His hands gripped the blanket so tight his knuckles ached. His heart pounded against his ribs, each beat a hammer blow against his chest.
Across the room, Lilith was already sitting up. Her amber eyes glowed faintly in the darkness.
"A nightmare?" she asked.
Adrian tried to speak. His throat was raw. He swallowed, and the motion scraped against his dry throat. "I was... Someone."
He looked at his hands. They were clean. But he could still feel the blood. He could still see it flaking at the edges of his fingers.
"I was standing on a tower," he said. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. "Smoke everywhere. Burning cities. And my monsters were dying. I could feel them dying. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Each one was like a thread snapping. I could feel myself coming apart."
Lilith rose from her bed. The floorboards creaked under her weight. She crossed the room and sat on the edge of his bed, close enough that he could see the shadows beneath her eyes.
"There was a woman," Adrian continued. " She asked me why. She wanted to know why I chose this." He closed his eyes. The image was still there. Her face in the smoke. Her hand on his chest. "I didn't have an answer."
He opened his eyes. Lilith was watching him, her face unreadable.
"People came to stop him. I couldn't see their faces. They were blurred. But I could feel them. They were powerful. More powerful than him. They came because no one else could."
He looked at her. "There was a voice. At the end. When he was dying. It said he was supposed to build. That he reached for power instead. He took until there was nothing left."
He closed his eyes again. The voice was still there, echoing in his skull.
"It said 'build wisely, this time' as though it was speaking to me directly.'"
Lilith was very still. Her hand was on the blanket, inches from his.
He opened his eyes. "Who was he?"
Lilith was quiet for a long moment.
"Ragnar. The first Monster King. The system chose him first, but he was not ready. He couldn't bond with monster queens like you but he could bond with many monsters. He took power, but he did not build anything with it. He thought power was the goal."
She looked at him.
"In the end, he destroyed cities. Killed thousands. He had to be stopped."
Adrian stared at her. "He lost control?"
"He lost himself."
The words hung in the air.
"You are not him" she said.
Adrian sighed. "I know."
"You know what he did wrong?"
He nodded slowly. "He built nothing. He only took."
She reached out and took his hand. Her skin was cool, but through the bond, he felt warmth spread up his arm, into his chest, into the places where the dream had left him hollow.
"You are already building," she said. Her voice was low, meant only for him. "A hearth. A bond. A place for something that will last."
He looked at her hand in his. Her fingers were long, pale and graceful. He had never noticed how small they were.
"It doesn't feel like enough," he said.
"It is just the beginning." She squeezed his fingers. "He never had a beginning. He had only hunger. You have more."
He did not know if that was true. But he wanted it to be. He wanted it more than he had wanted anything in a long time.
---
They sat like that for a long time.
"The voice," Adrian spoke again. "It knew him. It had been with him since the beginning."
Lilith nodded slowly. Her thumb traced a circle on the back of his hand. "The system is old. Older than me. Older than Ragnar. It was created by someone who wanted to change the world. It is speculated that the creator left something of himself inside it."
"What?"
She shook her head. "I don't know. No one knows. The system has its own will. Its own purpose. It chose you, Adrian. Ragnar at first, now you"
He looked at her. "You think it knew what he would become?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"I think it hoped he would become something else," she said. "And now it hopes the same for you."
The light outside the window began to shift. The black faded to grey, then to pale yellow.
Adrian hadn't noticed the time passing. His body was still tired. His arms still ached. But his mind was quieter than it had been in days.
"What will you build?" Lilith asked.
He thought about it. The hearth in his soul space. The walls that had grown when he ranked up. The doorway that led to somewhere he could not yet see. It was not a castle yet. But it was something.
"I don't know," he said. "But I will figure it out."
She nodded slowly. "That's good enough"
A knock came at the door.
Adrian looked at Lilith. She released his hand and stood, crossing to her bed. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair. His shirt was still damp. His coat was on the floor. He had not changed.
The knock came again. Three sharp raps.
He crossed the room and opened the door.
Ethan stood in the hallway. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed.
"You look terrible," Ethan said. He glanced past Adrian at Lilith, then back. "We have class. Ophelia is going to kill us if we're late."
Adrian looked back at the room. His bed was rumpled. His shirt was still damp. He had not done anything except sit in the dark and remember a dead man's death.
"Give me a minute," he said.
Ethan studied him for a moment. Then nodded.
"I'll wait at the stairs."
Adrian closed the door as Ethan walked away.
He turned and found Lilith watching him from her bed.
"You should change," she said. "Your shirt is wet."
He looked down at himself. She was right. He pulled off his shirt and reached for a clean one. The fabric was rough against his skin. He pulled on his coat. He strapped on his bracers and tucked the soul pouch into his pocket.
He looked at Lilith. She was already at the door, waiting.
"Ready?" she asked.
The dream surfaced in his mind but he pushed it away. He was not Ragnar and he would not become Ragnar. He would build something that lasted.
He walked to the door.
"Ready."