The cold stone bit into Ethan's knees. He could feel every groove, every old stain that had soaked into the execution block over the years. More than three hundred years of Cole's family history, and here he was—about to end it all.
"Look at him! The executioner's son, finally getting what he deserves!"
The crowd's laughter hurt more than the chains around his wrists. Ethan lifted his head, taking in the sea of angry faces.
On the raised platform behind the execution block, nobles sat in cushioned chairs like they were watching a play. Their silk robes caught the morning light, colors of deep purples and royal blues that cost more than most commoners made in a year. Gold chains hung around their necks, and jeweled rings flashed on their fingers as they pointed and whispered to each other.
Below them, pressed against the wooden barriers, common folk strained to get a better view. Farmers in their rough brown clothes, merchants in simple tunics, workers with dirt still under their fingernails. They had to crane their necks to see over each other, but their eyes burned with the same hunger.
All united in wanting to see him die.
The irony almost made him smile. Almost.
"Funny how things turn out," he whispered. His father had stood on this same platform hundreds of times. But never like this. Never as the one about to die.
The executioner stepped forward. Young guy, probably nervous. Not his father—Elkar had been dead for years. This stranger wore the same black hood, carried the same heavy axe. But his hands shook just a little.
"You know the charges," the magistrate called out. "Treason against the crown. Spreading lies about the royal family. Claiming they're possessed by demons."
Demons. The word tasted bitter. If only they knew he was right.
Three months ago, he'd burst into the throne room with proof.
"They're possessed!" he'd shouted, holding up the evidence. "The royal family has been taken by demons!"
The court had laughed. Called him crazy and threw him in the dungeons.
Now he was here.
"Any last words?" the executioner asked.
Ethan's throat went dry. So many things he wanted to say. So many people he'd failed to save.
Maya's face flashed in his mind. Golden eyes wide with fear as the demon-touched guards dragged her away. She'd believed him and she'd died for it.
"I should have saved you," he whispered, his vision blurring with unshed tears.
His father's voice echoed in his memory: "A Cole serves the crown's justice, son. We carry out the king's will, no matter what."
But what justice was there when the innocent died and the guilty ruled?
"I wish..." Ethan's voice cracked. "I wish I could do it all over again."
Ethan screamed. Not in pain, but in desperation. In wild and impossible hope.
"Let me try again!" The words tore from his throat. "Let me save them!"
The axe rose high above his head. Sunlight caught the blade's edge. Beautiful yet terrible.
Time seemed to slow. Ethan heard his own heartbeat. Felt the rough wood under his knees. Tasted salt from tears he didn't know he was crying.
Then…..the blade fell.
But instead of darkness, golden light exploded around him. Warm and bright and impossible. It poured through him like liquid fire, but it didn't hurt. It felt like... hope.
Images flashed through his mind. His first sword lesson. His mother's smile. The day he met Maya at the Academy. Every moment of his thirty years, playing out in seconds.
The light got brighter. Reality cracked and time itself seemed to be breaking apart.
Everything shattered.
**********
Ethan woke up gasping.
Sunlight streamed through a small window. The smell of porridge drifted to his nose while birds sang outside like nothing had happened.
He tried to sit up. His body felt wrong. Too small and too light. Like trying to wear someone else's clothes.
"What in the Light?" He cursed, his voice was higher than it should be.
The mirror!
Each step was a struggle. His legs didn't want to work right. His balance was all wrong, like he was learning to walk again.
The face in the mirror made him freeze.
Sixteen years old. Smooth skin, with messy black hair and his green eyes staring back in shock.
"No way." The words came out as a whisper.
But he knew this face. This room. This day.
It was the morning before the Academy entrance exams. Fourteen years ago.
Memories crashed into his mind like a tsunami. Thirty years of life experience trying to fit into a sixteen-year-old brain. The demons. The corruption. Maya's death. His execution.
All of it had happened and would happen. Unless...
"Unless I change it," he breathed.
He tried to move like he used to. His body fought back. He had the memories of a master swordsman, but the muscles of a weak teenager. Like trying to write with a broken hand.
But he was alive. He was young. He had another chance.
"Ethan!" His mother's voice called from downstairs. "Breakfast is ready!"
The sound hit him like a punch to the gut. He grabbed the desk to keep from falling.
Mom.
She'd been dead for eight years. Killed in the first demon attack on the capital, her last breath leaving her as he'd held her body in the ruins of their old house.
"Coming!" he called back, his voice cracking.
He walked to the window on unsteady legs. The village spread out below him. The same view he'd seen every morning as a kid. People going about their normal lives, not knowing what was coming.
The corruption. The war. The deaths.
But Ethan knew and this time, he could stop it.
He pressed his hand against the cool glass. "I'll save you," he whispered to the peaceful village below. "All of you."
Starting with Maya. Starting with the Academy. Starting today.
"Ethan! We are waiting!"
He took a deep breath. Tried to look like a normal sixteen-year-old instead of a thirty-year-old man in a child's body.
"Coming, Mom!"
But as he headed for the door, one thought burned in his mind.
This time would be different. This time, he wouldn't fail.