Jack was perplexed and sat holding the blood-red rose. He contemplated what the old lady had said while appreciating the birdsong above. Her words echoed in his mind. ‘All choices matter.’ ‘The Fates await to guide you.’ ‘Don’t waste this second chance, Jack.’

  “She knew my name!” He searched his memories for who the old lady might be and still didn’t recognise her. Could she have been a messenger of the Gods? She was cryptic enough to be one. Though rare, it wasn’t unheard of for the Gods to interfere in mortal matters, but when they did, the mortals struggled to recall events accurately.

  She told me not to ‘waste this second chance.’ Jack’s eyes widened as it hit home. “This is real. I have a true second chance.” He remembered the risks he’d taken following Baron Greaves and witnessing the forbidden ritual. His heart raced at what could’ve happened had he been caught. “So stupid.” He touched the side of his face that used to be scarred. “No more dumb risks.”

  Jack returned to what the old lady had said. “What is my fate? Guide me where?” Nothing came to mind. He fiddled with the blood-red rose held in his hand. “She could’ve just told me what to do.” His memories felt hazy for a moment as his eyes drifted down to the red rose.

  Jack stayed on the pew as dozens of people went about their business in the temple. A robed temple attendant opened a fading aether lantern and replaced the rechargeable aether capsule within.

  While contemplating his fate, he noticed a teenage beastkin place his hand on the Choosing Stone. The boy’s face lit up; he looked thrilled. He must’ve been offered a good choice. He caught the boy’s eye and offered a smile and a knowing nod.

  The young beastkin beamed. His black fur was marked with striking white streaks, which made his grin all the more vivid. “I’m going to be a knight,” he said, his voice shaking with excitement. “Everyone said I wouldn’t get the choice since I’m not a noble, but they were wrong.”

  Behaving as though someone might take it away at any moment, the boy selected the knight class. “I’m a Novice Knight!” he declared, pumping his fist into the air in celebration. His tail wagged like an eager pup as he hopped from foot to foot. His enthusiasm echoed off the temple walls, mingling with the faint trills of birdsong.

  Many of the parishioners congratulated him on his achievement. It was rare, almost unheard of, for a commoner, especially a beastkin, to be offered the knight class.

  Jack returned the boy’s grin. “Congratulations. You must have worked damn hard to earn the knight class.” Despite being strangers, he was pleased for the young man. Access to a horse, multiple weapons, and formal knight training was a luxury few teenage commoners could afford. For beastkins, it was even less so. “Well done,” he added. “The Fates smiled on you today.”

  The young man nodded. “I-I’m going to go tell my friends and family. Thanks!” The newly anointed Novice Knight bounced his way out of the temple, his tail swishing side to side as birds chirped in chorus above.

  Jack smiled. Good for him. Now for my choice. My fate. His smile faded into a frown. I really want to kill the bastard who ruined my life. And now I know a blood cult exists in the city.

  He felt a responsibility to stop the blood cult. His hand gripped the dagger at his side as though he might use it that very moment to gut the Baron and every last cultist in the city. Holding the weapon made him feel better.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  “But should I? Is that who I want to become, again?” Jack thought about his first love. I could marry Jasmin and have a family. He smiled, remembering the first time they’d danced. It had also been his first time dancing. Jasmin had laughed as he kept apologising for stepping on her feet.

  “I want that life.” It was a simple life of love, laughter, and good food with family, always together. Still gripping the dagger, he thought about the life he should’ve had and how it was all ruined by Greaves.

  Jack closed his eyes and thanked the Gods for giving him a second chance. Thank you for this gift. No matter what it takes, I’ll stop Greaves to protect my family and have a good life.

  “Would you like an apple?” A female voice asked.

  Jack looked up to find a middle-aged woman dressed in plain priestess robes, who was carrying a basket of red apples. Caught off guard, he blinked at the question.

  “They’re from an early harvest. With Demeter’s blessing,” she added. “Would you like one?” The woman pulled out a juicy-looking apple and offered it to him.

  “Thanks,” he said, taking it with a smile.

  The woman returned the smile. “They’re delicious. Demeter has blessed us with another good summer. There’s going to be an abundance of fruit soon.” The priestess left to offer apples to other visitors.

  “Thanks again,” Jack called as he polished the apple on his jacket and took a bite with a mouthwatering crunch. “Hmm, that is a good apple.” He took another bite. “What should I choose to change the future?”

  He began compiling a mental list of options while eating his apple. The first approach was to find a way to prevent his father from deciphering and translating the forbidden blood magic grimoire, the secret that Baron Greaves had murdered his family to protect.

  In his first life, he had become a Novice Scribe at sixteen and began working under his father, an Expert Scribe, in the Ancient Texts Department of the Royal Library. When he was eighteen, his father had started work on an ancient tome encrypted with a complex cypher. About a year later, his father had him, by then an Apprentice Scribe, join the effort. His dad had already done most of the heavy lifting, so within six months they’d cracked the cypher and begun translating the ancient Elvish text.

  After translating a few pages, they realised the book contained forbidden spells and knowledge—a blood magic grimoire—and presented their findings to the Baron. Greaves had ordered them to complete the translation and not discuss the book’s contents with anyone but him.

  In hindsight, that should’ve raised a red flag. However, they were so excited to be working on something so fascinating that they missed or ignored the warning signs. Even so, working alongside his father during those months remained one of Jack’s fondest memories.

  A few months later, the first section of the blood magic grimoire was translated and handed over to Baron Greaves. There were still years of work left to decipher and translate the entire tome. That was when the Baron killed his family and left twenty-year-old Jack for dead in his burning family home.

  Jack had gained plenty of experience and a handful of skill levels working on the grimoire. Even his father gained a level when they’d translated the first section of the book. It was hard for him to reconcile the good memories with the eventual murder of his family.

  If his father and Jack had never deciphered and translated the grimoire, there would’ve been no reason for the Baron to kill his family. He clenched his fists as the memory burned bright of Greaves’ beastkin guards pinning his father down while the Baron drove a blade through his heart.

  I hate that murdering bastard. He winced as a sharp pain stung his right hand. He looked down to find he’d gripped the blood-red rose so tight that a thorn had pierced his palm. He sucked the trickle of blood and hissed. It was a minor wound, but he’d have to hide the cut from his mother, or she’d fuss and worry.

  He could already hear her lecture about some distant uncle who died of a thorn wound, possibly even on his right hand. There was always a relative he’d never heard of who’d dropped dead from a harmless injury. With how many family members had met the Gods by such minor mishaps, his mother could’ve been a soothsayer of medical catastrophes.