Aeverith woke up from a dream he couldn't remember.
Did I let my undead army roam around past curfew again? he thought as he shot up from the bed. The rapid movement made his head spin. He was on the brink of vomiting, when he heard the squeaking sound of a door being opened.
Wait a second. The scarcity of black color, the absence of undead standing around like stupid lamp poles, the lack of scattered books and ancient scrolls... This isn't my room.
His memory gradually returned. He remembered the siege. Tandrarian Alliance had surrounded his castle with a massive army, mages, and siege engines. The stench of death filled the air beneath the crimson sky. Ten days had passed with humans and undead slaughtering each other. On the eleventh day, Dellin The Chosen managed to break through the gates, leading a troop of brave men and women. They made it to the main hall of the castle, where Aeverith had been sitting, waiting. He hadn't joined the battle sooner. He had known that if he went all out, he would have lost control and wiped out every single living creature within miles radius. It had happened before, with a great price, and he simply couldn't take it anymore.
When he finally unleashed his power, all of Dellin's troop had perished in a split second. Only the chosen one could withstand it, only he had been left standing. They dueled, Aeverith lost, Dellin stabbed his heart. The Soul-Sword let out a blinding white blast, and then…
Whatever the fuck is happening right now.
On the other side of the room, a young woman dressed in a green half-robe, typical Viridian mage disciple's attire, peeked inside from the door. Their gazes locked for a moment, before she left the room, sprinting like crazy.
“He’s awake!” she screamed. Her footsteps echoed throughout the hallway.
What just…
A gush of cold wind blew over him, making him tightened a soft silk blanket wrapping around his body. He looked around for the source of the wind. Next to the bed, a stained glass window was slightly opened. Aeverith pushed the window, revealing the landscape behind. A large city stretched far and wide below him, its edges bounded by a tall stone wall. Beyond the wall, there was a lush evergreen forest, and beyond it, a mountain range. Their snow-covered peaks soared above the clouds. Judging from the scenery outside, there could only be one place in the world that fit that description. The Kingdom of Fenain’s capital city, Thaldenar.
Unwanted emotions swelled within his chest. It’s so beautiful… So many greens…
Aeverith couldn't remember the last time he witnessed such a view. For the past seven years, he had been living in the barren Rhadun Wasteland, with not even a single trace of life form around. The Wasteland was completely devoid of any life-force for centuries that nothing could grow on its hard black soil. He was the only creature who could survive there, all because of his amulet's dark power.
He swallowed his emotions and hardened his heart. Emotions were a pain in the ass. Without them, a lot of bad things in his life wouldn't have happened. The people he loved would still be alive right now. He wouldn't have turned out to be The Wicked Overlord. Things wouldn't have been such a mess.
Aeverith glanced around the room. It was huge and overly decorated, to the point where there were even three—three!—chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. The furniture were lavish and the colors were bright, too bright for his taste. The bed itself could contain five grown men, if they were willing to cramp. Being used to sleep on top of a heap of tattered woollen blankets, this was actually a nice break for once.
Someone opened the door again. This time, it was Eryss, now dressed in a simple buttoned shirt and trousers. Her messy auburn hair shook up and down along with her steps. A long dagger hung from her leather belt, its hilt was decorated with a dark blue gemstone.
Enemy, Aeverith thought, prepared to defend himself.
"You're awake!" Eryss said. A wide grin of relief appeared on her face. "Dellin, I thought you were gone for sure."
So it is true, Aeverith mused, taking down his guard. I’m inside Dellin’s body... somehow.
"How… how long was I out?" His voice sounded hoarse, like he hadn't drank anything for days.
"Four days. Four and a half, to be precise." Eryss walked toward his bed. "You fainted right after I found you. Severe blood loss. It’s a miracle you live. Aeverith The Wicked really didn't pull his punches."
Tell me about it.
He decided to inquire more. "Where am I?"
Eryss broke into laughter. She held her stomach, almost fell over to the back. "You don't know? Seriously?"
"I… My memory is kinda… hazy."
"This is your room, Dummy. Your bedroom."
"Oh."
Eryss ruffled his hair, almost like an affectionate big brother. "Dummy."
Aeverith had to use all his remaining strength to stop himself from jumping out of his bed and running off to the distance. He hadn't had any physical contact of years, so having one of his sworn enemies ruffling his hair was more than shocking.
“Hopefully those memories of yours return soon.”
"Haha. Yeah." He gazed into the distant mountains. “If I'll ever get stuck in a tight spot because of my amnesia, uh… you still got my back, right?”
She gave his arm a light punch, chuckling. "Nah, I wanna see you suffer," she said, but her tone suggested otherwise.
Suddenly, a blurry figure darted across the room. Within a heartbeat, that person had thrown herself onto the bed, right next to Aeverith. She hugged him tight, almost suffocating him, and squeezed her body to his chest.
And then, Aeverith felt a lip… pressing against his.
He was moments away from pushing the creep away. To his relief, that person decided to end the kiss first. Aeverith found himself staring face to face with a dainty young lady. Her skin was as fair as it could get, with faint freckles scattered on her rosy cheeks. Golden locks framed her heart-shaped face and cascaded down her back.
With one look, Aeverith recognized her. He also happened to have kidnapped her a couple of times. She was Celyra Thalden, the Royal Princess of Fenain.
“How do you feel?” she asked. Her emerald eyes glimmered with excitement.
He shuddered. I feel violated.
Celyra brushed her hand against his cheek, a touch so light it could be mistaken as a feather. “You look so pale. Sickly pale.”
Anyone who just got force-kissed without his consent would, sweetheart.
Beside the oversized bed, Eryss laughed again. Hysterically, now. “He’s not just pale, Lyra. Look at him! He looks borderline traumatized.”
Celyra embraced him again, gentler this time. Strong scent of lavender assaulted his nose. “Sorry if I surprised you, Dellin. I’m just happy that you’re awake. I was so worried something bad happened to you.”
“I’m… okay.” Aeverith returned her embrace. He also patted her back a few times, in an awkward kind of way.
From what he knew about her, Celyra was eighteen, she was King Selgor’s only child, and she had an ‘it’s complicated’ relationship with Dellin The Chosen. But, judging from the way she kissed him just now, it looked like she had it all figured out.
“Let him breathe, Lyra.” Eryss tugged Celyra’s dress sleeve. “He needs to recover. It’s best if we leave him alone now.”
Celyra retreated, hiding her reluctance. Aeverith couldn’t help but glance toward Eryss in gratitude.
“Get well soon.” With that, Celyra gave him a quick peck on the cheek and left the room.
Eryss was also on her way out, when Aeverith suddenly called her.
“Yes?” She turned her burly body around.
“Before you go, can you tell me…” He hesitated for a second. “What happened to… Aeverith?”
She gave him a knowing look. “It’s all safe now. He’s contained within Fenain’s maximum security dungeon. A dozen high-ranking Azure and Violet mages guard him at all times. I've checked on it myself. He has no chance of escaping.”
Aeverith was quite surprised. “He’s not killed?”
“The High Leaders wanna do something to him first, I guess.” She shrugged.
“And his amulet?”
“The Amulet of Yldar is nowhere to be found, and so is your sword,” Eryss sighed. “We’ve dispatched a team to search for them around Aeverith’s castle and the battlefield. Nothing, so far. But at least the Overlord can’t get ahold of his power source. So, let’s just see this as a win, shall we?”
He forced himself to smile. I have to find it before anyone else, then.
Eryss clasped his shoulder with her firm hand. “Rest. You’ve earned it. Aeverith can’t stir anymore trouble, all thanks to you.”
Aeverith nodded, feeling rather amused. “All thanks to me,” he murmured.
“Well, just so you know, Aeverith made quite a scene when he gained consciousness yesterday.”
Hearing that, he shot up, tense. “What did he do?”
“Nothing much, just shouting like a mad man. He also tried to use magic. But without his amulet, he’s just a weak Stunted mage. He was quickly overpowered. Weirdly enough, do you know what he said back then?”
“What?” his voice trembled.
Eryss’ gaze pierced his eyes. “He said that he was you.”
No way…
“I heard it myself. ‘I’m Dellin,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what happened, but I’m Dellin, the chosen one! You gotta let me out!’”
“He’s lying,” Aeverith spat out. His heart pounded loud inside his chest.
If it’s true, then... Dellin and I… We switched bodies!
“Do you really think that anyone would believe him? Him? The Overlord?” Eryss ruffled his hair again. “Don’t be silly, Dummy.”
“He can’t be trusted.”
Eryss rolled her eyes and left his side. “Relaaaax. Now sleep. Bye.”
Right after she closed the bedroom door, Aeverith jumped out of the bed. He started pacing around the room. Confusion clouded his mind. They switched bodies. Dellin was still alive inside his body. But, however he looked at it, this was impossible. There were so many things that magic could achieve, but this wasn’t one. This was unheard of, at least until now.
Is the switch permanent or temporary? he thought. Will there be any side effects? What caused this switch? Is this the power of the Soul-Sword?
No, he was sure Soul-Sword couldn’t do that. The Soul-Sword was called Soul-Sword not because it could transfer souls between bodies. It was because only a special person with a soul connection to the sword could wield it. Thus, the chosen one.
If not it, then what?
He was lost. He couldn’t think of anything as to why it could happen. But, thinking about the implications...
I'm Dellin. I AM DELLIN THE FUCKING CHOSEN!
Only a fool would let this chance go to waste. As Dellin, he could literally do anything he wanted. As long as nobody found out about this, he could have all the power in the world to achieve his goal.
Aeverith still couldn’t believe it. As if looking for proof, he rushed toward a large silver mirror on the other side of the room. The face that stared back at him was indeed the chosen one’s. Aeverith ran his fingers through his features, feeling his own touch on his skin.
It felt unreal, but it was.
Like Aeverith, Dellin was an Ulevari, but he also had some traces of Fenain lineage here and there. Dellin’s skin was brown, although it was several shades lighter than average Ulevari. Their hair were similar, black and wavy. Dellin's eyes were hazel, his eyebrows thick, his cheekbones high, his nose bridge strong, his jaw looked like it could cut through steel.
Funny. Just less than a week ago, this was Aeverith’s fourth most despised face in the world. Now, this was the face he saw when he looked into the mirror. It wasn’t bad, though, as his number one most despised face was his own.
He took another gaze at Dellin’s face—his face. It was Aeverith’s now.
“Shit. I’m hot.”
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