The Nameless Heir

He didn't stop walking until the noise was gone and the trees closed in around him. He found a patch of stone near the edge of the forest and sat down hard, like his legs had finally given up.

In his hand, the bread.

Still there.

Dirty. Crushed. Smudged with dust and blood and ash.

He stared at it for a long time.

Then took a bite.

The taste didn't matter. The dirt didn't matter. But something inside him cracked the moment he chewed.

Tears slipped down his face as he ate in silence.

Not from pain. Not even guilt.

Something smaller than that. Something older.

Human.

He hadn't felt it in so long. Not really.

All this power. All these gifts. And he had done nothing.

His eyes lowered, breath shallow.

Then, without sound or warning, the rock behind him shifted.

The earth opened.

And he fell.

He didn't scream. Didn't reach for anything.

Just dropped, like the world had finally made a decision for him.

By the time he hit the ground, the forest was gone.

He was inside the Labyrinth.

"Take me home, please," he said quietly.

"I don't need Daedalus," he muttered. "I'm done."

He didn't sit up. Didn't even try. The stone was cold, and he didn't care.

His body felt useless. Heavy in a way that had nothing to do with weight. He could have moved. But for what?

Then a voice came.

"You're just going to leave them to die?"

It sounded like Liz.

It wasn't her, not really. He knew that. It was the Labyrinth speaking, twisting her voice into something familiar. But it didn't matter.

He didn't fight back. He didn't even speak.

He didn't speak. Couldn't. The words were there, but they just… wouldn't come out. His throat was tight. His eyes stayed locked on whatever was above him—stone or nothing. The world felt far. Too far. Like it had kept moving and forgotten he ever existed.

"You're a hypocrite." The voice didn't rise. "You tell others to accept death, but not when it's her."

"Shut up," Kael barked. "You don't get to talk like you know me."

His voice cracked on the last word. He shoved himself upright, breathing hard, every movement sharp with fury. His fists curled so tight, he barely noticed the sting of his nails digging into skin.

He didn't stop. Couldn't.

"You have no idea what I've lost."

It wasn't just anger. It was everything he had buried since the beginning. All the loss. All the failure. All the guilt.

And the Labyrinth spoke with her voice.

That was the worst part.

Because even if it wasn't really her, the words still felt real. And they hurt more than he wanted to admit.

"You became what you hated. A god. A prideful god who cares about no one but himself."

"How will you sleep at night, knowing you let countless people die?"

"Not once did you use that power to save others. You only ever used it to save her."

"I saved the world from those heroes," he shouted.

"Yes. That was before you fully regained your memories," the voice replied calmly.

"Once you did…" she paused, her tone sharpening. "You became nothing but a cocky, prideful god who thinks he can do anything with brute force."

His voice low. "Because I am."

"You're blinded by your pride. Again."

"So obsessed with the finish line, you never once looked at the wreckage you left behind."

The voice didn't sound angry.

Just quiet. Inevitable.

"You talk like a god."

"But act like a child with a weapon he doesn't understand."

The voice wasn't angry. Just flat. Empty.

Just the kind of cold that seeps into your bones when there's nothing left to burn.

"You're doing exactly what you did in your past lives."

"Repeating the same mistakes… with the same arrogance."

"In all your those lives, you've dragged your friends into your problems. Into your fights. Always trying to save her."

"And every time, they end up dying for you."

"You never once listened to what they had to say. You only did what you thought was right."

"Your selfish reasoning cost them their lives."

"You used them for your own benefit."

Kael's hands curled at his sides.

He wanted to argue. To deny it. To say it wasn't that simple. But the words didn't come.

Because deep down, a part of him wondered if it was true.

How many lives had he touched? How many had died following him?

"How do you know all this?" he shouted.

The voice didn't pause.

"Do you even remember their names? Their faces?"

"Or were they just tools to reach your goal?"

"Every time you tried to save her, you made things worse for the people around you."

"You are no different from him."

Kael's breath caught. The words hit harder than he expected.

He didn't ask who "him" was.

He already knew.

And that made it worse.

He tried to think of their faces.

Their names.

But nothing came.

Just shadows. Voices without detail. Smiles without shape. Their backs were blurry, like he was remembering a dream he no longer believed was real.

He remembered them, but not who they were.

Not clearly.

And that terrified him more than anything else.

They had followed him. Fought for him. Died for him.

And now… they were fading.

Piece by piece.

"Now you've beaten up a god and declared war against Olympus," the voice said.

"Next, you left the academy behind to chase your own problems again."

"You left Nyx. You left Chiron. Even the Holy Knights had to face the fallout from your choices."

She paused.

"Who do you think has to answer to the gods?"

Kael said nothing.

He didn't argue. Didn't shout back. He just stood there, jaw tight, shoulders locked in place like they were bracing for something worse than violence.

Because it wasn't rage pressing in on him.

It was truth.

And it hurt.

The words didn't need to be loud. They sank in anyway.

He stared at the ground, but his vision didn't hold. It blurred—like he was looking through water that wouldn't clear. A quiet thought crawled in, sharp and unwelcome.

What if he forgot them too?

He wondered—quietly, painfully—if one day, he would forget them too.

Orion. Selene. Elias. Lyra. Cassius. Damon. Lilia. Aria. Caius.

The ones who gave him a home. The ones who stood with him even when he had no one.

The ones he called family.

Would their faces blur too?

Would their voices fade the way the others had?

Would the things they did for him get buried beneath more battles, more guilt, more years?

His chest felt tight. Not from grief. From fear.

The kind that came when you realized memory alone might not be enough.

He dropped back, forearm covering his face like it could block out the world. The breath left his lungs in broken gasps, not quiet anymore. And in the dark behind his eyes, the faces came—blurry, unfinished, but still there. Friends. Family. All the ones he couldn't save.

Empty. Blurred. Fading.

The ones who had fought beside him. The ones who had trusted him.

His team. And he couldn't remember their eyes.

"Of course no one can stop you. You're a god now. That makes you untouchable, right? You're powerful, so you think you're always right?"

"You're no different from Daedalus."

"You both make decisions that drag others into your mess. But unlike you, he tries to fix what he breaks. He doesn't leave it for someone else to clean up."

Kael gritted his teeth and covered his ears with both hands.

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up," he shouted.

The voice didn't stop.

"You were once a great king. A hero. A genius mage. Have some humanity. It's not too late."

The world twisted.

The next thing he knew, the Labyrinth spat him out.

He landed hard. Dust rose around him.

In front of him sat a black box, small and silent. He picked it up with shaking hands.

Then the voice came again.

"This is what you came for, right?"

"Take it. Leave, if that's what you want. This is better than anything Daedalus could ever build."

"I've evolved over centuries. I am the best version you'll ever get."

"Just… don't lose the bit of humanity you have left."

Kael stayed there on the ground, the box heavy in his hand. Guilt sat heavier in his chest. Then he shouted, voice cracking.

"What do you want me to do, huh? Just accept that she'll die in front of me?"

"Answer me, you damn Labyrinth!" he screamed louder.

"I am a god! I deserve happiness! I deserve it!"

His throat was raw. No more shouting left in him.

He let his eyes close and dropped, body hitting the stone hard.

The box stayed in his hand. He hadn't meant to hold on to it. He just didn't let go.

Then came the sound.

Explosions, massive and distant, rolling through the ground like thunder.

He forced his eyes open.

And saw her.

The little girl stood over him, barely upright. Her small frame swayed with each shallow breath, blood-crusted clothes hanging off her like dead weight.

She blinked slowly, like every movement cost more than she had left, one hand twitching at her side without reason—just a reflex clinging to whatever strength hadn't drained away.

"Please…" she whispered, the word dry, frayed, almost too soft to be real.

"Help."

Kael forced himself up, his limbs slow and stiff. He knelt beside her and reached out—not with power, not with light. Just the back of his hand, brushing away her tears like it was the last human thing he still remembered how to do.

"Pride," he said quietly. "Take care of her."

From beneath her small shadow, Pride lifted her into his arms. She felt weightless. Fragile. But he held her like she mattered more than anything.

He turned toward the city.

The box still rested in his hand.

He looked down at it.

"Acceptance," he muttered. "Not going to happen."

He paused, jaw tight.

"Am I a hypocrite for that?" He let the question hang, then answered himself. "Yes. I am."

He took a breath.

"But this time," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, "I won't let anyone die because of me."

His legs moved before he told them to, slow at first—like the promise had weight.

"I'm a god," he said under his breath. "So I'd better start acting like one."

His grip closed around the box—tight enough to stop the shaking.