She Chose the Wrong Hero

Aeren Drican had never been the hero.

He didn't wear shining armor or give grand speeches. No one wrote songs about the boy in the corner, the one who watched while others played at glory. That suited him fine. The world noticed too late what lurked in silence.

They hadn't noticed him the first time. That mistake had cost them everything.

---

Aeren remembered the end of the world.

The screaming. The flames. The look in Elira's eyes when she took Kael's hand.

He remembered it all. And that made him dangerous.

The second time began like the first. Morning light. Academy bells. The scent of spring in the stone courtyards. But Aeren woke up with a heartbeat too fast, with hands that shook only when no one was looking.

He was back. Before it all.

And Elira Vane was laughing with Kael again.

---

He hadn't spoken to her in this timeline. Not yet. Not directly. But he watched her carefully—from behind shelves in the library, from the edges of training fields, from shadowed hallways lined with polished steel.

She moved like she didn't trust the ground beneath her.

That told him everything.

She remembered too.

---

Aeren had spent the last two nights alone in the restricted archive beneath the academy. Reading prophecies. Looking at maps that didn't exist yet. Marking names of those who would die if no one changed anything.

It wasn't enough to remember.

He had to act.

But not yet. Not while Kael still shined too brightly. Not while Elira still hadn't looked his way.

He watched the two of them from the tower window. Kael offering her a flower. Her fingers trembling as she took it. Her smile a little too late. Her eyes… haunted.

Yes. She knew.

---

Later, in the courtyard shadows, he met Serion—the Royal Mage.

Serion didn't remember. But he was still dangerous.

"You've been quiet lately," Serion said, studying him over the edge of a glowing crystal. "Planning something?"

"I always plan," Aeren said.

Serion laughed. "You always disappear. Same thing, I suppose."

Aeren smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

---

That evening, Kael trained in the yard. Swinging his sword like a man trying to carve away the future.

Aeren watched him, arms crossed.

Kael didn't notice until the second lap.

"You're overthinking again," Aeren said.

Kael turned. "About what?"

"Her. The war. Yourself."

Kael's laugh was hollow. "Isn't that what heroes do?"

"No," Aeren replied. "That's what people trying to be heroes do."

Their eyes locked. Something passed between them—sharp and unfinished.

Kael looked away first.

---

In the quiet of his chambers, Aeren unrolled a map and circled three names.

One was a town that would fall in four months. One was a traitor no one suspected. One was Elira.

He stared at the last name for a long time.

She had chosen wrong once.

He wouldn't let her do it again.

Even if it meant becoming something darker than she ever imagined.

Even if it meant standing against Kael.

Even if it meant never being seen… until it was too late.