The ride back to the Valerius estate was silent, the rhythmic clopping of the horses' hooves against the cobblestones sounding to Lucius like the ticking of a countdown clock. His mind was a chaotic map of overlapping timelines, a blur of blood-stained mud from the Southern Line and the sterile, deceptive peace of the Capital.
He had just met Evelina—a woman who shouldn't have been able to look him in the eye, yet she had seen right through his armor as if it were made of glass. She was an anomaly, a variable he hadn't accounted for. But as the carriage passed through the towering iron gates of his family home, Lucius felt a different, sharper kind of tension. He felt like he wasn't entering his home; he was entering a cage he had once shared with a demon.
As the carriage door opened and he stepped out into the courtyard, the smell of blooming jasmine and expensive manure hit him. It was the smell of his childhood. Suddenly, a small, vibrant blur of green and white silk streaked across the stone tiles.
"Brother! Lucius! You're finally home!"
A small boy, barely eight years old, was sprinting toward him with reckless, joyful abandon. It was Julian, his youngest brother. In the future Lucius had come from—the future that still felt more real than this sun-drenched afternoon—Julian had died in the first wave of the coup. He had been a child caught in the crossfire of cold ambition, his small body found under a fallen tapestry.
Seeing him now—alive, his face flushed with the pink of health and his eyes sparkling with excitement—hit Lucius harder than any mace to the chest.
"Slow down, Julian! You'll trip over your own feet and give Mother a heart attack!" A calm, melodic voice followed the boy.
Lucius's entire body stiffened. Every instinct he had developed as a soldier, every reflex honed in a thousand life-or-death skirmishes, screamed at him to draw his sword. He knew that voice. It was the deep, soothing baritone that had whispered, "Die well, little brother." while twisting a dagger between his ribs.
Cedric stepped into the golden sunlight.
At this moment, Cedric was twenty-one. He looked every bit the perfect eldest son of a noble House: tall, poised, with a gentle smile that reached his eyes and made him look like a saint. He didn't look like a murderer. He didn't look like a usurper. He looked like the brother Lucius had idolized for eighteen years before the world fell apart.
"Lucius! You're back early," Cedric said, walking toward them with a relaxed, confident gait. "Julian has been pestering the guards every five minutes, asking if your carriage had been spotted on the horizon."
Julian reached Lucius first, throwing his small arms around Lucius's waist. The physical weight of the child was a grounding, agonizing reality. Lucius slowly reached down, his hand trembling slightly and ruffled the boy's soft hair.
He's warm, Lucius thought, his heart aching. He's not a memory. Not yet. I can still save him.
"I missed you, Lucius! Did you bring me anything from the Academy? Father said you were the best swordsman in the whole history of the school!" Julian chirped, looking up with wide, adoring eyes.
"I brought you stories, Julian," Lucius said, his voice raspy and thick with unshed tears. He forced himself to maintain his composure. "And perhaps a wooden practice blade, if you promise not to hit the maids with it this time."
Cedric reached them, stopping a respectful distance away. He looked at Lucius with a gaze that seemed full of genuine, unadulterated brotherly pride. "Let the boy breathe, Julian. Our brother has just returned from the Minister's house. I imagine the sick atmosphere there was exhausting enough to drain even a last amount of energy he might had left."
Lucius looked at Cedric. He searched for a crack in the facade. A flicker of jealousy? A hint of the dark secret Lucius had overheard in the hallway—that Cedric wasn't a Valerius by blood?
But there was nothing.
Cedric's mask—if it was a mask—was perfect. Lucius realized with a cold, crawling chill that either Cedric was the greatest actor in human history, or the "monster" simply hadn't been born yet.
Was it the secret of his birth that changed him? Lucius wondered, his mind racing. Or was he always this way, a predator waiting for the exact right moment to strike?
"The Minister's house was... enlightening," Lucius said, his voice flat and neutral. He didn't show anger. Anger was a loud, messy emotion; it would alert the predator. Instead, he mirrored Cedric's calm, playing the part of the dutiful younger brother. "Evelina is not what the rumors suggested. Not at all."
Cedric tilted his head, a look of mild, intellectual curiosity crossing his handsome features. "Oh? The rumors say she's a ghost in a silk dress, a girl who coughs up blood if the wind blows too hard. Are you saying our father's choice in a daughter-in-law wasn't a mistake after all?"
"She is a woman of many... hidden talents," Lucius replied vaguely.
Julian tugged on Lucius's hand, his energy bottomless. "Come on! Come see the new horse Father got me! Cedric says I'm almost tall enough to ride him alone!"
Cedric laughed, a warm, hearty sound that echoed against the stone walls. "I said you were tall enough to sit on him while I held the reins, Julian. Don't go exaggerating your height to Lucius."
For a moment, they looked like the perfect trio of brothers—the kind of family poets wrote about. The sun was golden, the garden was lush and the laughter was bright. But to Lucius, the scene felt like a staged play. He watched Cedric's every movement with tactical precision—the way he adjusted Julian's collar with a gentle hand, the way he stood half a step behind Lucius as if to show deference to the "hero" of the family.
How cruel were you, Cedric? Lucius thought, his heart turning into a block of black ice. Did you love us once? Or was every smile, every hug, every kind word just a calculation to keep us blind until the day you needed our blood?
"You have to come see him! I named him Thunderbolt!" Julian tugged violently on Lucius's hand, his face lit with a manic glee.
"Julian, I'm sure Lucius wants to rest—" Cedric started, his tone reasonable and protective.
"No! He has to see! Now!" Julian insisted, his lower lip beginning to tremble in that way only an eight-year-old could manage.
Lucius felt a strange, cold curiosity. He wanted to see how Cedric acted when they were away from the watchful eyes of their parents.
"It's fine, Cedric. Let's see this 'Thunderbolt.' I want to see if Julian's taste in horses has improved since he tried to ride the family dog." They both laughed at that memory but followed the boy.
As they walked toward the stables, the smell of dry hay and oiled leather filled the air. It was a nostalgic scent, one that Lucius had associated with safety for most of his life. Now, it felt like the backdrop of a grand tragedy.
They entered the high-ceilinged stable, where the family's finest steeds were kept. Julian ran to a stall at the very end, pointing excitedly at a small, sturdy chestnut pony with a white star on its forehead.
"See! Isn't he grand? He's the fastest pony in the world!" Julian beamed.
Cedric stood beside Lucius, leaning comfortably against the wooden pillar of the stall. "He's a bit stubborn, just like Julian. He's already bitten two of the stable boys and tried to eat the head groom's hat."
Lucius walked up to the pony, stroking its nose, but his mind wasn't on the animal. He turned his head slightly, watching Cedric out of the corner of his eye. He needed to test him. He needed to see if the "Cruel Cedric" was already hiding beneath the surface, or if the future was still unwritten.
"He's a fine horse, Julian," Lucius said quietly. Then, he shifted his gaze directly to Cedric, his eyes locking onto his brother's. "He reminds me of that black stallion you'll got Cedric, the one named Obsidian."
The air in the stable seemed to drop twenty degrees in a single second.
In the past life, Cedric had received a magnificent black horse named Obsidian he brought home one day—a gift from a "secret benefactor." It was the same horse he rode when he led the rebel cavalry to execute the King's loyalists in the streets of the Capital.
Cedric blinked, a look of genuine, baffled confusion crossing his face. "Obsidian? That's a strong name, but why do you say that? And why a stallion? You know I prefer mares for their calm temperament. Stallions are too unpredictable for my taste."
Lucius watched his brother's pupils. No dilation. No micro-expression of shock. No tightening of the jaw. Nothing.
"Maybe I remembered wrong," Lucius said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming the voice of a man who had seen too much death. "I had a dream at the Academy. You were riding a black horse through a city on fire. You looked... powerful. Like a King standing over his kingdom."
Julian giggled, oblivious to the heavy atmosphere. "Cedric as a King? He'd be too busy making sure everyone finished their vegetables and went to bed on time!"
Cedric, however, didn't giggle. He grew quiet, his eyes searching Lucius's face with a new, sharp intensity. "A city on fire? That's a dark, disturbing dream for a boy who just came home to a celebration, Lucius. Is the pressure of the Academy getting to you? Or is the Minister's daughter putting strange, morbid thoughts in your head?"
"Maybe," Lucius replied, stepping closer to his brother. He could smell the faint scent of cedar and expensive soap on Cedric. It was the exact same smell he remembered from the night he died—the smell of his brother's cloak as he leaned down to deliver the killing blow. "Or maybe I'm just realizing that people aren't always who they seem to be. Even family. Especially family."
Cedric's smile didn't falter, but it changed. It became thinner, sharper—not with malice, but with a strange kind of concern. "Family is the only thing we can be sure of in this chaotic world, Lucius. Father, Mother, you, Julian... we are the Valerius blood. Nothing in heaven or earth changes that."
Except the fact that you aren't a Valerius, Lucius thought, his pulse quickening.
"Is that so?" Lucius asked, his voice a whisper. "And what if you found out one day that everything you believed about your life was a lie? What if you found out you were owed more than you were given? Would you still love us then, Cedric? Or would you burn us down for the 'truth'?"
The question was a direct strike. Lucius was essentially asking for the motive of Cedric's future betrayal.
Cedric looked at Julian, who was busy feeding a carrot to the pony, then back to Lucius. For a split second, the air between them felt heavy and suffocating. Lucius searched Cedric's eyes for that ancient, bitter spark of the man who had stood over his corpse, but he found... nothing.
Instead, he saw a deep, genuine warmth. Cedric's gaze was clear, filled with the simple, honest affection of an older brother happy to have his family whole again. There was no hidden malice, no secret sharpening of a blade.
"I am the eldest son of this house, Lucius," Cedric said and this time, the "steel" in his voice wasn't a threat—it was a promise of protection. "I have been given everything I could ever want: a noble name, a beautiful home and brothers who make life worth living. Why would I care for lies? I have reality. And reality is that I am the luckiest man in the Empire because I have this family. I would die to protect you, Lucius. Never doubt that."
The words hit Lucius like a physical blow to the stomach. In the future, Cedric had screamed that he was a "prisoner" of this family's lies. But here, in this moment, he truly believed he was its heart.
The tragedy isn't that he's a monster, Lucius realized with a jolt of horror. The tragedy is that he hasn't become one yet.
"The future is a fickle thing," Lucius said, his voice trembling slightly. "It changes based on the choices we make today. A single secret can destroy a mountain."
"You speak like a philosopher or a priest, not a soldier," Cedric laughed. It was a bright, joyous sound—a sound Lucius hadn't heard in twenty years. Cedric reached out and clapped Lucius firmly on the shoulder.
In the future, that hand had been covered in Lucius's blood. But now, it was warm, steady and kind. Lucius had to fight the instinctive urge to flinch, his skin crawling not from Cedric's touch, but from the memory of what that touch would become.
"Come," Cedric said, pulling Julian away from the stall. "Mother is waiting and she's probably made enough lemon cakes to feed a battalion. And Julian, if you feed that horse one more carrot, he'll be too fat to run by sunset. We'll have to roll him to the pasture."
"No he won't! He's a growing horse!" Julian protested, grabbing another carrot and hiding it behind his back with a mischievous, gap-toothed grin.
As the three of them walked out of the stable and across the sun-drenched courtyard, Lucius felt a heavy, sickening weight in his chest. He had come here looking for a monster to kill, but all he had found was a brother who loved him.
Cedric wasn't a regressor at least. He maybe have not thought about the betrayal. He didn't know he wasn't a Valerius. Right now, Cedric was innocent yet.
He doesn't know yet, Lucius realized, watching Cedric ruffle Julian's hair as they walked. He truly loves us. The cruelty isn't a seed he planted; it's a seed that hasn't been watered by the truth yet. If I can keep the secret... if I can stop him from ever finding out... can I save the brother I loved?
Lucius looked at the back of Cedric's head. This was the true tragedy of time travel. To save his family, he couldn't just strike down a villain. He was in a race against time to stop the man Cedric is from becoming the man Cedric was. If he killed him now, he would be murdering the only version of Cedric that was ever worth saving.
I have to watch him, Lucius thought, his eyes turning into flint. I have to watch the person I love most in this world and I have to be ready to cut him down the second that love turns to hate. I will be his guardian and his executioner if needed.
"Lucius?" Julian called out, noticing his brother had slowed down near the fountain. "Are you coming? The cakes are getting cold!"
"Yes," Lucius said, forcing a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I'm coming."
He looked up at the sky. The orange glow of the sunset reminded him of the fires of the capital during the coup. Tomorrow, he would see Evelina. He didn't know who she actually was or how she was so different from the rumors, but he knew one thing: she was the only person in this world who didn't look at him with simple, blind love. She looked at him like he was a problem to be solved. And right now, he needed a problem solver more than he needed anything.
As they entered the house, the warmth of the hearth met them. His mother was standing at the foot of the stairs, her face lighting up with a beautiful, radiant smile that made Lucius's throat tighten until it hurt.
I will save you, Mother, he promised silently. I will save all of us. Even if I have to become the only monster in this house to do it.
Cedric turned back at the doorway, the torchlight catching the honest, friendly glint in his eyes. "By the way, Lucius... that name, Obsidian. I think I like it. It sounds like a horse for a man who wants to leave a mark on the world. If I ever get a black stallion, I'll call him that. It'll be our little secret."
Lucius felt a chill run down his spine. The name was a curse, a bridge between a loving present and a bloody future.
"I'm sure you will, Cedric," Lucius whispered, his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. "I'm sure you will."