Raka was still standing in front of the mirror when the bedroom door opened again. The reflection of the split sun that had appeared behind his body moments ago was gone, as if it had never been there. But the cold sensation spreading from the nape of his neck down his back still lingered. He stared at the reflection of the old face that had now become his own, trying to find something different, something that could explain what he had just seen. There was nothing. Only a pair of unfamiliar eyes staring back at him. Strangely, the longer he looked at the reflection, the more he felt that the face wasn't entirely unfamiliar. There was sorrow in those eyes. A deep weariness, like someone who had been waiting for something for years and knew the wait still wasn't over. Raka touched the surface of the mirror with his fingertip. Cold. Real. He almost wanted to laugh because all of this felt like a joke that had gone on far too long. A few hours ago, he had been an ordinary young man walking home while reading a novel on his phone. Now he was standing in the room of a king he didn't know, surrounded by people who considered him their ruler, while an old adviser had just told him that he wasn't the person who was supposed to be inside that body.
“Raka.”
Elandor's voice came from behind him.
Raka turned.
The old man stood near the door, this time without the cold expression he had shown earlier. He slowly closed the door, then walked closer. “You saw that symbol again.”
Raka nodded.
“In the mirror.”
“No. Not only in the mirror.” Raka drew a breath. “I saw it in my head. Or maybe it was someone else's memory. I don't know. The sun split in two.”
Elandor stopped.
For several seconds, he only stared at Raka.
“So it's true.”
“What is?”
Elandor didn't answer. Instead, he walked to the chair near the window and sat down. His face looked older than it had moments ago. He rubbed his temple as if facing something he had spent years trying to avoid. “I was hoping I was wrong.”
Raka sat across from him. “You know that symbol?”
“I know more than I should.”
“Then explain it.”
Elandor looked at him. “It's not that simple.”
“Elandor, I just died, woke up in someone else's body, was told I'm not the person who's supposed to be here, and then saw a strange symbol that might be connected to all of it. I don't think now is the right time to tell me that something isn't simple.”
For the first time, Elandor sighed like a man who had truly run out of choices.
“All right.”
He stood and pulled an object from beneath his robe. A small, round metal token was placed on the table. Its surface was old and covered in scratches. The same symbol was in its center.
A sun split in two.
Raka immediately leaned forward.
“Where did you get that?”
“I've had it for forty years.”
“Forty years?”
Elandor nodded.
“I found it when I was young. I wasn't a royal adviser yet. I hadn't even met King Ashwin. I was on an expedition to the southern region with a group of explorers. We found ancient ruins underground.”
“What kind of ruins?”
“A tower.”
Raka stared at him.
“What tower?”
“There was no name written there. At least, not in any language we knew. But the same symbol covered every wall. The split sun.”
Raka felt his throat go dry.
“And what happened?”
“Everyone who entered those ruins had the same dream.”
“A dream?”
“Not an ordinary dream.” Elandor looked at the metal token on the table. “They saw people they didn't know. Lives that weren't theirs. A soldier saw himself as a farmer. A priest saw himself as a little child. One member of our group even claimed to see himself living in the body of a creature we had never encountered before.”
Raka fell silent.
“Then what?”
“After we came out, two of them began losing their memories. They no longer recognized their own names. Worse, a few days later, they began speaking in different voices.”
“Whose voices?”
Elandor looked at Raka.
“Someone else's.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
Raka swallowed.
“What happened to them?”
“They disappeared.”
“Were they killed?”
“There were no bodies.”
Raka looked at the symbol on the metal token.
“So you already knew about people who move between bodies?”
“I knew that such a phenomenon had happened before.”
“And you know I'm one of them?”
“Now I'm certain.”
Raka rose from his chair. “How often?”
Elandor didn't answer.
“How often does this happen?”
“More often than it should.”
The answer made Raka even more uneasy.
“How many?”
“No one knows.”
“Ten?”
Elandor was silent.
“A hundred?”
Still silent.
“Thousands?”
“There are no reliable records.”
Raka rubbed his face. “Wonderful.”
He walked a few aimless steps. Every explanation only opened up new questions. He wanted to go home, but now even the words go home felt like something too distant to reach.
“Why me?”
Elandor looked at him.
“Why was I thrown into this body?”
“I don't know.”
“You always say you don't know.”
“Because that's the truth.”
“Then who does know?”
Elandor was silent for a long time before answering.
“Maybe they do.”
“Who are they?”
“People who have watched this phenomenon for years.”
Raka stared at him.
“Who?”
Elandor took the metal token back.
“Don't say their name out loud.”
“Why?”
“Because if they've truly learned you're here, they'll come.”
“Who?”
At last, Elandor spoke two words.
“The Tower Keepers.”
The name made Raka feel something strange. Not because he recognized it, but because the words felt like part of something he had heard before. He tried to remember, but pain stabbed through his head again.
He closed his eyes.
A shadow appeared.
A tall tower.
A red sky.
People kneeling on the ground.
Someone wearing a black robe stood before him.
Then a voice.
“Don't let the Witness remember.”
Raka opened his eyes, gasping for breath.
Elandor immediately stood.
“What did you see?”
“I don't know.”
“Raka.”
“I saw a tower.”
“What kind of tower?”
“Black. Very tall. There was blue light at its peak.”
Elandor's expression changed.
“Have you been there?”
“I don't know!”
“Try to remember.”
“I can't!”
Raka struck his own temple in frustration. “I don't even know if that memory is mine!”
Elandor fell silent.
The words seemed to strike something inside him.
“Yes,” he said quietly. “That's the most dangerous part.”
Raka looked at him.
“What danger?”
“When a Witness moves into another body, it isn't only the body that changes.”
“What do you mean?”
“The memories.”
Raka slowly understood.
“The body's memories?”
Elandor nodded.
“Every body retains traces of its original owner's life. Emotions. Habits. Fears. Memories. Sometimes they all mix with the Witness's consciousness.”
“So the memory I saw just now...”
“It might have belonged to Ashwin.”
“Might?”
“It might also have been yours.”
Raka fell silent.
“And if I can't tell the difference?”
“One day, you may no longer know who you are.”
Those words made Raka feel a fear far deeper than death.
At least death had an ending.
But losing himself?
That was different.
If every body he occupied left memories inside his head, how long until the real Raka drowned among the lives of other people? How many faces would he have to wear before he could no longer remember his own? He suddenly remembered his reflection in the mirror. His own face appearing for a moment behind King Ashwin's face.
What if one day that shadow stopped appearing?
“Elandor.”
“Yes?”
“If I transfer again... will I remember this place?”
“You should.”
“Should?”
“Not every Witness is able to retain their memories.”
Raka stared sharply at him.
“What determines whether I can remember?”
Elandor didn't answer.
“Elandor.”
The old man looked at him for a long time.
“No one knows.”
Raka let out a long breath.
“So I'm truly alone.”
“No.”
Raka raised his head.
Elandor stood before him.
“As long as you still remember your name, you aren't alone.”
The words sounded simple.
Yet for some reason, Raka sensed a deep sorrow behind them.
Before he could ask, footsteps sounded outside.
Elandor immediately turned.
“Come in.”
A servant appeared and bowed.
“Your Majesty, the Elder Council has been waiting.”
Raka looked at Elandor.
“The council?”
“Yes.”
“Do they know?”
“Not yet.”
“And what am I supposed to do?”
Elandor walked closer and straightened Raka's collar like an adviser preparing his king.
“Sit in the throne.”
“Then what?”
“Don't talk too much.”
Raka almost laughed.
“What if they ask questions?”
“Answer only what you have to.”
“What if they ask about something I don't know?”
“Tell them you're still recovering your memories.”
“What if they find out?”
Elandor looked into his eyes.
“Don't let them find out.”
They walked outside.
The palace corridor was filled with soldiers and servants. Everyone lowered their heads as Raka passed. Some looked at him with relief, while others watched with curiosity. Raka tried to walk calmly, though every step made him more aware that he was playing a role he had never asked for.
King Ashwin.
He had to become someone he didn't know.
They arrived in front of the great doors to the council chamber.
Two guards opened them.
Raka stepped inside.
Seven people sat around a long table. They all looked at him.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Then a man in a red robe stood.
“Your Majesty.”
Raka nodded.
“The council has been waiting.”
Raka walked to the throne at the end of the room and sat down.
The chair was too large.
Too magnificent.
And too unfamiliar.
One of the council members began speaking about the state of the kingdom, but Raka's thoughts remained fixed on the split-sun symbol.
He didn't know that several yards beneath the room, behind a stone wall hundreds of years old, the same symbol was carved into a door that had not been opened in decades.
And when Raka sat on the throne, something behind that door moved.
Very slowly.
As if it had only just recognized his presence.
The meeting had not been underway for long when the side door suddenly opened.
A man in dark robes entered without permission.
The guards immediately drew their swords.
But the man did not resist.
Instead, he knelt before Raka.
“Your Majesty,” he said, breathing heavily, “you need to hear this alone.”
The room suddenly fell silent.
Raka stared at him.
“What happened?”
The man raised his face.
“News from the south.”
Raka waited.
“The troops sent out last week haven't returned.”
One of the council members stood.
“How many?”
“Two hundred thirty-seven.”
“Were they killed?”
The man shook his head.
“There were no bodies.”
Raka felt something cold crawl through his body.
“Then what happened?”
The robed man looked at Raka.
“The troops... disappeared.”
Inside Raka's head, the whispering voice returned.
Witness.
Then the split-sun symbol appeared for an instant in his mind.
And from far away, deep beneath the palace, came the sound of cracking stone.
No one in the council chamber heard it.
No one except Raka.
He stared at the floor.
His heart began to beat faster.
For some reason, a certainty took root inside him.
Whatever was happening in the south, it was all connected to him.
And perhaps his first body transfer had not been a coincidence.
Perhaps this world had been waiting for him all along.
Perhaps it had been waiting even before he died.