TRYL PROLOGUE

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Magic had always been Noah’s companion, colder and more reliable than any heartbeat. It pulsed in the air around him, silent and obedient, answering his thoughts before he even uttered a spell. For thirty years, he had used it to build, to avenge, to watch, to wait. Revenge, after all, was an art that required patience—and he was nothing if not an artist.

The candlelight flickered against the endless shelves of his study. Tomes bound in the hide of forgotten beasts whispered faintly as if eager to witness what would come next. On the floor, intricate sigils blazed, consuming incense and life force in equal measure. He could feel the magic condensing, curling around him like the breath of time itself.

The circle was perfect. His revenge, too, should have been.

But life, as always, refused to obey him.

The dagger entered his back silently—clean, practiced, unhesitating. For a single instant, Noah couldn’t comprehend the betrayal. Then warmth spread across his robes, seeping crimson into the sigils beneath him, and he turned slowly to face the man he loved.

Neo’s expression was neither cruel nor tender. Just… tired.

“Noah,” he whispered, as though saying the name might break him. “I can’t let you continue.”

And then he pushed the blade deeper.

The circle shattered.

The world dimmed.

Yet Noah did not die.

Because dying would mean losing—something he had never allowed himself to do.

So, bleeding and broken, the sorcerer dragged his hand through his own blood and began rewriting the runes. The candles dimmed, the air thickened, and magic screamed as he reached for the impossible—rewinding the flow of time.

He felt his memories splinter. Felt his power burn away, layer by layer, like paper fed to a relentless fire. But he didn’t stop. Even as his body collapsed into dust, even as his soul unraveled, he forced the spell to obey.

“Let me start again,” he breathed, eyes burning with vengeance and something dangerously close to grief. “Let me make him regret it.”

The circle answered.

And then everything went dark.

When Noah opened his eyes, the scent of rain and earth filled his lungs. His bones ached, but his heartbeat was steady—alive, young. The world shimmered differently; colors brighter, magic thinner, his own power almost gone.

And standing a few meters away, laughing beneath a cluster of spring blossoms, was him.

Not the man who had killed him. Not yet.

This one was younger, eyes clear as dawn, hair ruffled by wind, carrying a sword too large for his frame and a smile far too bright for the world Noah had known.

Neo.

Noah stared for a long time, heart beating far too fast for someone who claimed to have buried all his emotions long ago.

He had come back for revenge. But now, watching that reckless, innocent grin—he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Because maybe, just maybe…

before destroying him,

he wanted to understand him first.

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