In this life again

"If there's such a thing as a next life... I wish we'd never meet again."

Ilian lost everything the moment the war reached his home-his kingdom reduced to ruin, his people slaughtered, his future erased-and what remained of him was taken, not out of mercy, but because he could be taken. Cassian did not see a man when he looked at him, only something to claim, something to keep, something to shape into a living reminder of his victory. "You are not just a prisoner, Ilian. You are a symbol. A reminder of what I have won."

What followed was not kindness, nor cruelty in its simplest form, but something far more suffocating-control so absolute it hollowed rather than shattered. Ilian obeyed because there was nothing else left to do, because resistance had nowhere to go, until even that quiet defiance began to fade into something emptier. "You are mine now... Do you understand that?" - "I am yours." The words were spoken, but never meant, and somewhere between obedience and silence, something in him began to disappear.

By the time Cassian understood the weight of what he had done, the damage had already settled too deep to reach. There was no anger left to fight, no strength left to resist, only the quiet truth Ilian could no longer hide. "I cannot do this anymore... I cannot pretend that it does not hurt. That I do not hate you." And still, even as everything slipped further beyond his grasp, Cassian did not let him go.

He should have.

He didn't.

In another life, under another name, they meet again-but this time, the past exists only in fragments. Adrian recognizes him instantly, the memory pressing in before he can stop it, before he can deny it. "Ilian." But Ilya only pauses, distant, untouched by what once was. "I think you have the wrong person."

It should have ended there.

It didn't.

Because some things do not fade with death. Some regrets do not loosen their hold. And some people-no matter how many lives pass-are never truly lost.