CHAPTER 386: CHAPTER 386: THE THIRD AND FOURTH LIVES

The next entry took longer to appear, as if the system itself hesitated to unveil it. The handwriting was cleaner, more steady, and resembled surrender rather than confession. Yerofey no longer wrote to explain. He wrote because silence was worse.

"The third life began the same way as the others, with a crown above me, a curse beneath me, and the same faces smiling through deception. I was born again in Palatine, with the same palace halls, brothers, and kingdom that was already crumbling under the weight of debt and pride.

I remembered everything this time. The bond, the fire, the scream that tore Saha apart. I remembered Asier’s hands and how they had once trembled when he marked me. I remembered the warmth of his chest and the sound he made when they killed me. I remembered it all, and I decided I would never feel it again."

Trevor’s thumb froze above the tablet. The tone was colder, stripped of all tenderness.

"I avoided him. I saw him once, on the training grounds, surrounded by men who still believed in honor. His face was the same, his voice carried the same quiet power, but I turned away. I told myself I was protecting us both. In truth, I was only protecting myself from hope."

"I thought I could outsmart destiny. I thought if I focused on rebuilding Palatine, I could undo what I had destroyed in my last life. I devoted myself to empire reforms, diplomacy, and endless meetings that cause men to lose their souls. I told myself love was a distraction. That the world could be enough."

The script grew uneven for a few lines, as if he had paused mid-thought.

"But empires are like hearts; they can only be repaired so many times before collapsing under the weight of what has been concealed. My brothers never forgave me for outliving them. My council never forgave me for knowing too much.

When they realized I had been reborn, they called it heresy. They said no mortal should defy death two times. They said I was cursed. Perhaps they were right."

"They gave me poison in a crystal glass during a celebration meant for peace. My brother’s hand shook when he offered it to me, but he didn’t stop. I drank it while smiling at them. Gods, they were terrified. I didn’t fight the fate anymore. I had grown tired of pretending that survival was victory."

Trevor could almost hear the quiet resignation behind the words. There was no drama nor tragedy. Just the acceptance of someone who had seen the same ending too many times to beg for another.

"That was the third life. The one where I chose reason over love.

It killed me slower but, in all fairness, I wasn’t sold and my life was much better than before. Any of the other four was better than the first."

The next paragraph began almost immediately after, the strokes darker, pressed deeper into the page.

"The fourth life began before the ashes cooled. Same name. Same blood. Same world that refuses to move forward. I had grown accustomed to waking in the same bed and to hearing the same servants whisper the same morning prayers. The only thing that changed was the heart that beat inside me... it had become quieter. Older."

"I didn’t search for Asier. I didn’t wait for fate. I went to war."

"I thought that if I could not save the world with love or intellect, then I would bend it with power. I forged alliances with men I despised, commanded armies, and watched cities burn for the promise of a stable tomorrow. I told myself that I was building peace through fear. I convinced myself that victory was meaningful."

Trevor’s jaw clenched as he read. The next lines were written unevenly, as though Yerofey’s hand had trembled with the exhaustion of a man forced to write the same pain too many times.

"I saw him again. Asier. He was leading the opposing front this time. He had forgotten everything about me: the mark, the name, and the fire. He looked at me like a stranger, and I realized that this was my punishment: to love him in every life and to lose him every time."

"We fought for years. We met only on the battlefield. He killed me there, not knowing whose blood soaked his hands. I smiled beforw his pheromones went through my chest. I had finally built an empire strong enough to survive me. It didn’t make the pain easier."

A long blank space followed before the last words appeared.

"Four lives. Four choices. Love, intellect, power, war. Each ending the same way, at someone else’s hand, but always by my own fault. I used to think fate was cruel. Now I think it is patient. It waits until you learn that some things are not meant to change."

Trevor stared at the words until the letters blurred into light.

Outside, the storm had passed, but the air still hummed with static, as if the world itself had heard too much. Lucas shifted faintly beside him, murmuring something soft in his sleep, unaware of the centuries pressed into the man beside him.

Trevor brushed his fingers through Lucas’s hair again, slow and deliberate. "Four lives," he whispered, voice hoarse. "And still the same faces."

The tablet dimmed, leaving only the reflection of the firelight on glass. He didn’t reopen it. He didn’t need to.

Because in that moment, he finally understood what Yerofey hadn’t written... that every rebirth was not a second chance, but a repetition until the lesson was learned.

And maybe, Trevor thought, this was the life where it finally would be. He turned back to the last pages of the memoir.

"Now you’ve reached the fifth life, the last one, and you want to know if yours is the last one. If the pain was enough or if you have more to remember. This time the moment I was reborn was different."