Murmurs and shuffling of feet were audible within the execution grounds, as each person tried their best to get a good view of the loathsome criminal being put on trial.

His unkempt, dusty purple hair was covered in dirt and grime. The people close enough to see him noticed the severe torture over the days he was imprisoned on the exposed skin of his arms and legs, where the shackles couldn’t cover.

No one would believe that he was once a fair looking prince, loved by the very citizens watching him right now.

“The second prince, Tanashiri Radiomoda III, is now on trial for staging a coup d’etat against the late King Calisto Radiomoda, murdering him and the Queen Siane Canaels-Radiomoda and the young crown prince, among the many charges against him.”

The prince only scoffed with a bitter smile at that, wanting to respond to them in a sarcastic way but couldn’t due to his tongue being cut off.

“For colluding with the black mages, known to be harbingers of death and curses, to bring down our King and Queen, ruining the peace they had always stood for. Turning the royal knights against their true masters and putting our kingdom in peril, the accused is hereby stripped of his title and sentenced to death.”

Tanashiri only grimaced, inwardly cursing himself at his own naivety and incompetence, realizing too late that he placed his trust in the wrong person, because he too also dreamed of a peaceful married life.

If these people only stopped to think for a moment, they would realize that it’s impossible to bring down the most dangerous pair in the world.

His older brother, Calisto, is a Rune Knight, the highest rank one could attain in a lifetime.

His sister-in-law, Siane, is the Master of the Magic Tower, who wanted to achieve a peaceful community where no magician discriminates against the other. She is the true patron of the black mages and only a fool would bite the hand of its patron.

He lifted his head up to glare at the people standing before him, now knowing they were the real perpetrators as they had targeted him as the couple’s weakness.

His now barely lustrous amethyst eyes fell upon a young lady standing not so far away; it was his traitorous ex-fiancee.

She has long, wavy brown hair and green eyes, wearing a simple gray dress as if showing devotion to someone she used to love one last time. To finish off her acting, she wears a fake grave and pained expression as if she was the one who was betrayed.

Standing next to her is his cousin Gian Dy, now next in line for the throne one he’s executed. His eyes were dim as he gazed at the shackled prince, as if he'd been influenced by the anger from the crowd.

Tanashiri doesn’t remember since when did his cousin became close to his ex, but knowing that he’s a skirt-chaser and had always had eyes on the betrothed of his cousins, he must have jumped at the opportunity to make himself look good now that Tanashiri has been stripped of his title.

Two stiff-faced guards pulled the prince up to guide him to the execution block, with the former prince recognizing one of them as someone who had been once part of the late Queen’s black mage brigade, specializing in disguise which he could have perfected if he only let go of his beauty mark on the tip of his nose.

Why is he here?

Shouldn’t he be escorting his fellow black mages to the Canaels domain where they have been given refuge by the Duke and his successor.

If they had come to his rescue, it’s already too late and it would cause chaos if he were to disappear.

He wished they wouldn’t do anything rash after all this time.

He had already accepted his pitiful death, and it is the task of those left behind and knows of the truth to continue to fight for it.

The former prince raised his head slightly to look at the crowd he failed to protect, and his heart skipped a beat when he recognized one of the figures hidden near him in the crowd: a beautiful face reminiscing that of the late Queen’s that no hood could hide from his view, and clear teal eyes that reminds him of a beautiful water waves in one of their vacation islands.

A bitter smile appeared on his lips as he slightly shook his head, hoping that they would get his message that it’s too late to rescue him and not do anything rash, and let him face his end.

The guard from earlier then placed their hand on the prince’s neck, to put it down on the block. Tanashiri only blinked at the weak trickle of electricity coursing through that hand and spreading throughout his body.

He recognizes magic being used on him.

Surely they’re not thinking of actually staging a rescue?

He took a deep breath as his body warmed up to the magic, and was about to look at the mage with a questionable gaze when his body tensed up and he lost the ability to control it.

Confused and afraid, Tanashiri tried to resist, knowing that he’s much stronger mentally compared to the mage but a whisper in his mind made him stop.

“I will see you soon.”

Tanashiri wanted to trust the person whispering to him but confusion still grips his heart.

He wasn’t able to think any further as the executioner’s blade had struck down his neck.

•×•×•

Ten year old Tanashiri woke up with a jerk, his hands tightly gripping his bedsheets as he tried to catch his breath, his whole body drenched in sweat.

Delicately touching his neck, he could still feel some of the weak electric current passing through, with a tiny burning sensation at his nape where the black mage had touched him.

He’s not sure if everything was a prophetic dream, which he occasionally experiences, or if he was sent back in time this time.

It was a terrible dream of the future that he doesn’t have any plans to make it come to pass.

House Ferrer.

That’s the noble house in his dream that was behind everything, from the murder of the King and Queen, to his execution and the staged coup d’etat.

All he has to do is to reject the proposal coming from that family and look for a better match that has no connections to House Ferrer.

While the thoughts of marriage are too much for a ten year old right now, his determination is more than enough to make up for it.

He got off his bed to open the window, letting the cool early morning breeze touch his skin and calm him down.

He considered his dream for a moment.

The magic that coursed through his body in that dream and upon waking up bothers him.

Is it a regression? If so, how come he doesn’t have any memories of his past then?

Or are his prophetic dreams his past memories?

There is a chance that it’s that way but until he figures out what magic was used in his dream and the one that he felt when he woke up, he wouldn’t believe that he regressed.