Lysander spent the remainder of the day cataloging differences between his memories and this new reality. His quarters remained unchanged—the same palatial suite with its domed ceiling painted to resemble the night sky, the same impractical furnishings selected more for appearance than comfort. His possessions were intact, including several items he'd discarded years ago in his previous life.
What had changed was the palace's perception of him. Servants scurried past with minimal acknowledgment. Guards watched him with subtle disdain. Even Lord Valerian, who passed him in the Grand Corridor, offered only the slightest nod—a sharp contrast to the man who had once tried to court him as an ally before his execution.
For three years, he had been the "failed prince," and everyone had adjusted their behavior accordingly.
"Perfect," Lysander murmured, closing the door to his chambers. Underestimation would be his greatest advantage.
He retrieved a leather-bound journal from his writing desk and began mapping out a timeline of critical events from his previous life. The Academy assignment. His discovery of the magical blockage. The first major public "Awakening" incident in the eastern markets. Princess Seraphina's alliance with House Lunaris. The Emperor's accelerating illness.
And finally, the succession ceremony where he had died.
Writing quickly, he noted key individuals whose alliance would be crucial: Marcus Thornwood, his future roommate at the Academy with his own hidden talents. Professor Thorne, secretly a member of The Archive. Elara Silverwind, technological prodigy and daughter of the newest High House.
A knock interrupted his planning. Lysander slid the journal beneath a pile of mundane correspondence before calling, "Enter."
Princess Seraphina glided into the room, resplendent in a gown of silver and violet. At twenty-three, she was the embodiment of Aurelian beauty, with the same silver-white hair and violet eyes as Lysander, though hers held a calculating coldness he now recognized all too well.
"Sister," he said, rising to greet her with a bow. "What an unexpected pleasure."
"Little brother," she replied, her voice musical and perfectly controlled. "I heard about father's decision. I wanted to see how you were taking the news."
In his previous life, he had railed against the injustice to Seraphina, not realizing she had helped orchestrate his exile. She had comforted him with false sympathy while gathering intelligence on his emotional weaknesses.
This time, Lysander merely shrugged. "The Academy has much to offer. I'm looking forward to the experience."
Surprise flickered across her perfect features before disappearing behind her diplomatic mask. "How mature of you. Darius suggested you might be... difficult about the arrangement."
"Did he now?" Lysander allowed a hint of amusement into his voice. "Our brother does enjoy anticipating the worst from me."
"He concerns himself with the empire's stability." Seraphina trailed her fingers along the spines of books on his shelf, her ruby ring—a gift from House Lunaris—catching the light. "The Academy will be good for you. You'll be among peers who can help develop your... modest talents."
The insult was delivered with such practiced grace that in his previous life, he hadn't even recognized it as such. Now, he merely smiled.
"I'm sure I'll find my place there," he replied. "Though I'll miss our family dinners. So few of them remain before Father announces his successor."
Seraphina's hand paused imperceptibly on a book spine—the only indication that his casual mention of succession had struck home.
"That's years away, Lysander," she said smoothly. "Father is in excellent health."
"Of course," he agreed, watching her closely. "Though I've noticed he tires more easily these days. The demands of empire are relentless."
Seraphina studied him with new curiosity. "You've become observant. When did that happen?"
"Perhaps I've always been observant, sister. Just not vocal about my observations."
She laughed—a practiced, perfect sound designed to disarm. "Well, this new attitude suits you. The Academy might indeed be exactly what you need." She moved toward the door, then paused. "Darius is hosting a military demonstration tomorrow for the Drakos generals. Will you attend?"
In his previous life, he had avoided all such events, fueling rumors of his disinterest in imperial affairs. This time, he nodded. "I wouldn't miss it."
After Seraphina departed, Lysander returned to his journal, adding a new note: Seraphina already allied with Lunaris. Earlier than expected.
He spent the evening reviewing Academy textbooks, refreshing knowledge he'd once mastered. While his magical development had been stunted in this timeline, his mind retained every lesson, every technique, every insight gained during those three additional years of life.
At midnight, when the palace settled into silence, Lysander slipped from his quarters. He navigated the darkened corridors with confidence, avoiding guard patrols with ease—a skill learned during his prior years at the Academy, where nighttime explorations were a necessary part of political education.
The Imperial Library was officially closed, but a side entrance remained accessible to royal family members. Lysander entered silently, making his way to the restricted southern wing where texts on advanced magic were kept.
Using a small Lumina orb—one of the few basic spells he could manage with his blocked pathways—he searched until he found what he needed: "Pathways of Power: Physical Manifestations of Magical Blockage." In his previous life, this text had been his first clue to his condition.
He copied key passages into his journal, focusing on diagnostic methods that wouldn't require advanced magic to perform. If he could identify the exact nature of his blockage earlier, he might be able to break it before the Academy's second term.
Dawn was approaching when Lysander finally returned to his chambers. He concealed his journal inside a hollowed-out copy of "Elementary Principles of Lumina," a book no one would expect to contain anything of value.
As morning light streamed through the crystal windows, Lysander began preparations for Darius's military demonstration. He selected attire that struck a careful balance—formal enough to show respect, but deliberately understated. Nothing that would suggest he sought attention.
On his way to the Imperial Training Grounds, he passed a young servant girl struggling with a heavy tray of polished goblets. In his previous life, focused entirely on his own grievances, he had barely noticed the palace staff except when they served him directly.
This time, he paused. "Allow me," he said, stabilizing the wavering tray with a steady hand.
The girl's eyes widened with surprise, darting nervously to his face. "Thank you, Your Highness," she whispered, clearly flustered by royal attention.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Lyra, Your Highness. I'm new to the palace service."
Lysander nodded. "Well met, Lyra. The palace can be overwhelming at first, but you'll find your way." He offered a genuine smile before continuing on his path.
A small interaction, meaningless to most. But Lysander knew better now. In his previous life, he had learned too late that the most loyal allies often came from unlikely places—and that within the palace, servants heard and saw everything.
As he approached the Training Grounds, he could already hear Crown Prince Darius's booming voice directing troop formations. His brother had always favored spectacle over substance, but even Lysander had to admit his military acumen was genuine.
"Time to reintroduce myself to the family," Lysander murmured, squaring his shoulders as he stepped into the sunlight, ready to play the role of improved but still unthreatening younger brother.
The game had begun.