The wind, harsh and cold, swept across the cliffside, tugging at Althar's dark hair and ruffling his cloak. It was a world so unlike the one he had known, yet it felt like he had always been here. His new life—one devoid of the kingly responsibilities he had once held, the bloodshed he had left behind—now seemed as distant as a dream.
But here, in this unfamiliar place, there was no room for sentiment. No warmth. No cold. No joy. No sorrow. His heart beat steadily, but it was empty, a hollow rhythm that matched the emptiness of the world around him. There was only the wind, the sea, and the vast sky stretching endlessly before him.
Althar stared out into the horizon, watching as the waves broke against the jagged rocks below, the sound of the surf echoing in the still air. The memory of his past life—his life as a king—had dissolved like smoke, leaving nothing but fragments, like broken shards of glass scattered across his mind. The rule of his empire, his tactical brilliance, his cold, emotionless command—all that remained was an overwhelming sense of loss, a reminder that there was nothing left to return to.
He had no name here, no purpose. At least, none that he had yet decided. The only certainty was that his survival depended on his mind, and his mind was clear and focused. He was not weak. He was not governed by the whims of the heart. He was a strategist, a survivor.
"Are you lost, or are you simply lost in thought?"
The voice broke through the stillness, soft but sharp, like the call of a bird in the quiet morning. Althar turned to face the speaker, his gaze settling on the woman who stood before him. Her presence was striking—tall, with flowing golden hair that glinted in the weak sunlight, and eyes the color of amethyst that shone with something Althar couldn't place.
"I do not get lost," Althar replied, his voice as devoid of emotion as always. "I am simply observing."
The woman raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile. "You are different from most," she said, tilting her head slightly as if studying him with the same intensity that he studied the world. "The world is full of emotion, of magic. And you stand here, without either. It's... curious."
Althar said nothing at first, his gaze flickering over her. She was no ordinary traveler. He could sense it, the way she held herself, the subtle hint of power in her words. Magic was something he had no need for, but there was something about her presence that made him pause.
"Why does it matter?" he finally asked. "Emotions and magic are distractions. They cloud the mind. They are weaknesses." He paused, his thoughts turning inward, though he was careful to mask any signs of unease. "I don't need either to survive."
Her eyes sparkled with an almost amused understanding, as though she knew exactly what he was thinking—and more importantly, she knew the truth about him. "Perhaps. But the strongest forces in this world are those tied to the heart, to emotion. Magic, too. It is not something that can be harnessed by the mind alone."
Althar's brow furrowed slightly. Magic was indeed a powerful force in this world, something that could alter the very fabric of reality. But he had always believed that such things should be studied and mastered, not felt. The notion that magic and emotion were linked seemed absurd, even dangerous. He had never known any ruler in his past life who had relied on such fragile things.
"Then I suppose I'll have to learn how to ignore it," Althar said flatly, his gaze returning to the distant ocean, the sound of the waves a rhythmic backdrop to his thoughts.
The woman chuckled, the sound light but filled with something deeper. "It's not something you can ignore. Emotions are a part of every living being, whether you choose to acknowledge them or not. And as for magic... well, you will soon see for yourself how much power can be drawn from the heart."
"Power?" Althar turned back to her, the faintest hint of curiosity breaking through his otherwise emotionless demeanor. "I thought power was something built through strength, through control, through intellect."
"Intellect is necessary," she replied, taking a step closer. "But it is your heart that will fuel your strength. It is through your emotions that your true power will manifest."
Althar found himself momentarily distracted by her words, but quickly pushed the thought aside. "I have no need for such power. I only wish to survive. I'll make my way through this world as I did in the last one—with my mind. Emotion has no place in that."
The woman stepped forward, her amethyst eyes locking onto his with an intensity that made Althar uneasy in a way he wasn't used to. "You may believe that now, but soon, you will feel it. It's inevitable." She paused, her lips curling into a faint, cryptic smile. "When you do, you'll realize how wrong you were. And by then, it will be too late to turn back."
Before Althar could respond, she turned and began to walk toward the distant city on the horizon. Her words lingered in the air, their weight heavier than the wind that whipped around him. He stood still for a moment, watching her retreating figure, and for the first time since his reincarnation, the stirring of something—a strange sensation, too fleeting to name—began to pulse in his chest.
Emotions. Power. Magic.
He couldn't understand it, but perhaps... perhaps he would have to.