Zeno decided to let go of all his inhibitions.
There was a split second of resistance—a part of him still clinging to the idea that this was merely a simulation, some trick conjured by a master of acting or an elaborate hypnosis. But the longer he stayed in that skin, the more he felt that this could be real.
This wasn’t Avalis, nor was it the echo of any life assigned to him as a Rennis.
Maybe it had happened so long ago he’d buried it under centuries of forgotten reincarnations. Maybe it was a fragment that broke off and drifted away when he became who he is now.
Or maybe, this was simply… his past life. Before Avalis. Before anything. Back when he was just a soul.
He stopped resisting.
Master As’ voice had faded completely now, swallowed by the thick velvet curtains and the rattle of stage pulleys.
A scene unfolded under warm amber light.
A woman in a corseted gown was being dragged away by men in leather and iron. She screamed, clawing at the floor, calling out for a man.
He stormed across the wooden stage, voice loud, and face open in anguish. The audience gasped and leaned forward.
There was something brutal about the performance. There were collars around their necks—thin leather straps with ornamental tags, like pets.
And yet now one seemed to bat an eye. It was a normal day to them.
His heart was pounding by the time the curtain closed.
The backstage was chaos—props flying, actors laughing, faces flushed with sweat and leftover adrenaline. Someone clapped him on the back.
“Brilliant job tonight, Z.”
Z.
That was his name here?
He stepped aside, weaving through corridors lined with mirrors until he found one that wasn’t fogged up. He stared at the face reflected back.
Another surprise. It was the same face he had now.
Well, not exactly, but close enough that it startled him. Youthful, with tired eyes and a jaw slightly sharper. His skin bore soot and remnants of makeup, and he had a bruise near his neck.
But there was a spark in those eyes.
“Oi! How many did you get?” a voice asked, breaking him out of his trance.
Zeno turned to see a man with slicked-back curls, a wide chin, and a lopsided grin slinging an arm around his shoulders. He was dressed in costume, waving a small pouch.
Zeno instinctively reached into his pocket and pulled out three small brass coins.
His friend whistled.
“Three brass? Damn. That’s a shit show.”
“They gave the others three silvers again. Just ’cause they’ve been here longer.”
A second figure joined them, leaning lazily against the nearby wall. A man, shorter, with his long hair tied back in messy braids and ink-stained fingers.
“I think it’s because we aren’t originally from here,” he muttered.
“The locals have a hard time sharing their coin with immigrants.”
The man beside Zeno scoffed. “We rake in the most audience, though. They come to see us. Not those crusty veterans with their fake weeping and stale lines.”
The long-haired man shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Three brass coins are better than nothing,” Zeno’s past self replied calmly. The words left his lips before he realized they were even forming.
“True enough.” The friend grinned and shoved the coins into a small pouch. “Now let’s go. I hear old man Dorel’s making stew with real meat tonight.”
“Real meat?” the other man echoed. “Count me in.”
They began to move toward the exit, pushing open a crooked door that led into the moonlit alley. The sounds of laughter and horses echoed faintly in the distance.
The two bickered as they walked through the night.
“You’re so dramatic, Jake,” the one with the lopsided grin said, adjusting the pouch of coins strapped to his belt.
“And you’re obnoxious, Jason,” Jake shot back, rolling his eyes.
“Say that again, I dare you.”
“I said—”
Zeno smiled slightly, watching them go. Jake and Jason. The names echoed faintly in his mind. Somehow, their energy felt familiar.
They walked ahead of him, and at that moment, he took the opportunity to glance back.
The theater stood proud in the moonlight. Wooden, imperfect, its shingles slanted and its windows cracked.
He turned back around, but everything felt darker and colder.
Jake and Jason were gone.
The street was suddenly empty, the chatter and footsteps vanishing into a void. Fog coiled at his ankles.
“Hello?” Zeno called out, taking a cautious step forward.
A sound split the air like lightning through timber before flames engulfed everything.
They erupted without warning, devouring the wooden walls like paper. Screams tore through the fog. A woman stumbled past him, face charred, hair ablaze. A child cried for his mother, but there was only fire.
Fire in the skies, fire on the streets, fire even in the puddles.
The theater was crumbling.
He turned around, but the town was gone. There was only ash now. Jake? Jason?
He ran toward the flames, coughing, eyes stinging.
“JAKE! JASON!”
A wooden beam collapsed beside him, and he stumbled back, arm raised.
ZENO! ZENO!
The voice came from a distance, echoing through layers of time.
“ZENO!”
Suddenly, everything crashed.
He gasped.
His chest heaved like he’d been yanked out of water.
That wasn’t far from the truth because he was soaked.
Zeno sputtered and blinked rapidly, his back pressed against rocking chair. Water dripped from his hair. A bucket rolled beside him.
His eyes darted upward.
Jace. Minji. Eli. Doha. All huddled above him, concern on their faces.
He couldn’t even get mad that they literally soaked him with tap water.
“What… happened?” he muttered, his voice hoarse.
“You went too deep,” Master As said grimly, kneeling beside him.
“That was dangerous,” he added.
“We nearly lost you to your memory.”
***
Peace blanketed the realm.
The clouds glided lazily across the sky, and in the Sanctum of the Ascendants, plates clinked under soft candlelight. Ascendants dined together, some whispering poetry, others laughing softly over celestial wine.
Just then, the peace was destroyed.
BEEEP. BEEEEP. BEEEEP.
Chairs scraped against marble. Goblets were left mid-air.
High above, red light spiraled down a pillar of glass.
“What’s happening?”
“This alarm…”
“Somebody make it stop!”
From another corridor, Apex appeared erratically.
He adjusted the cuffs of his coat and narrowed his gaze toward the glowing pillar.
“Who among the Rennis,” he said slowly, voice thick with restrained fury, “has remembered their original life?”