Reborn Before His Ruins

Chapter 3

Marlowe's POV

Sleep didn't come easy anymore, not with lists running behind my eyes instead of dreams: expiry dates, evacuation routes, names I couldn't afford to lose twice. Every time I closed my eyes I saw the same headline glowing on my phone, and every time I opened them, Aurelia looked exactly the same as it always had. Ordinary. Unbothered. Waiting.

"You're scaring me," Junie had said, more than once now, and she wasn't wrong. I just couldn't explain that scared was the only thing keeping any of us alive.

By the third day, my family had decided I had lost my mind. I couldn't entirely blame them. I had spent forty-eight hours buying everything that could possibly be useful after civilization collapsed. Rice, canned food, bottled water, first aid supplies, batteries, torches, blankets, masks and tools. Anything with a shelf life longer than a week went into the shopping cart. My father finally caught me in the garage surrounded by boxes. He stared and I stared back. Oh no .. I'm not mad everyone.

"Want to explain this?"

I glanced at the mountain of supplies behind me.

"I'm preparing."

"For what?"

"An emergency."

"What emergency requires enough canned beans to feed a football team?"

I looked at the shelves.

"Your cholesterol?"

My father narrowed his eyes.

"That wasn't funny."

"It was a little funny."

He sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"Marlowe, you spent nearly half your savings yesterday."

“I know."

"You bought two generators."

"I know."

"We don't even own a generator."

"That's why I bought them."

He stared at me and I I smiled weakly.

"Think of it as being proactive."

"Proactive about what?"

I couldn't tell him. How could I? Should I say ... Hi, Dad. I died in the future, came back one hundred days before the apocalypse, and I'm trying to prevent your death. He would probably send me straight to a psychiatrist. So I lied ..

"There's been more of those animal attacks."

His expression changed.

"You think they're connected?"

"I think we should be prepared in case things get worse."

He was quiet for a moment, then he nodded slowly.

"All right."

I blinked.

"Is that easy?"

“No."

He pointed at me.

"But if you're going to spend money on this, you're going to do it properly."

I smiled.

"I already have a list."

"Of course you do."

He took the notebook from my hand. His eyebrows rose as he read.

"You've even listed food consumption."

"I like being thorough."

"You're twenty-four."

“So?"

"You've become terrifying."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

He laughed under his breath. For the first time since waking up, something inside me loosened. My father was alive.He was standing in front of me, complaining about food and my spending habits. I wanted to freeze that moment. Instead, I added another item to the list. Protect Dad. Then another. Protect Mum. Protect Junie. Those were the only things that mattered. At least, they were supposed to be. But the more I prepared, the more something bothered me. The future wasn't behaving. The animal attack in Blackwater District was the first sign. Then came another. A woman named Indigo Marsh appeared on the news. I remembered Indigo. In my first life, she died during the first month of the apocalypse while trying to evacuate Blackwater. Except now she was alive and giving an interview outside the hospital. I stared at the television.

"No."

Junie looked up from her phone.

“What?"

"Nothing."

"You've been saying that a lot lately."

I ignored her. The reporter continued talking. I remembered the date Indigo died. I remembered the street. I remembered the screams. But she was standing there now. Alive, talking and smiling. I turned off the television. My fingers tightened around the remote. If Indigo was alive, what else had changed? I opened my notebook that night and crossed out three dates. Then four. Then seven. By midnight, my carefully planned timeline looked like a battlefield. I stared at it. I had believed remembering the future would make everything easier. Instead, it was becoming another problem. I knew what was coming. But I no longer knew when and that was terrifying.

***

Five days later, I saw him. It happened in the most ordinary place imaginable. A hotel! I had gone there to meet a supplier who could provide medical equipment in bulk. The deal wasn't illegal, but the quantity was large enough to attract questions, so I wanted to handle it quietly. I was halfway across the lobby when I heard laughter. My steps stopped. I knew that voice. My body knew it before my mind did. I turned and the world went silent. Dorian Wren stood near the windows. Alive, My lungs forgot how to work. He wasn't wearing black armor. There was no blood on his hands. No scar cutting across his eyebrow. No coldness carved into his face by years of war. He wore a charcoal suit with the sleeves of his shirt rolled neatly to his forearms. His hair was slightly messy. He was smiling. A man beside him said something I couldn't hear. Dorian laughed. I stared for some seconds and gathered my senses. That was him. The same face. The same eyes. The same mouth that had spoken my name before driving a sword through my heart. But this man looked ... Young. Human. Normal. My stomach turned. I took one step backward. Then another. He looked up. Our eyes met and his smile faded. I couldn't move. For one horrifying second, I wasn't in the hotel. I was back in the ruined building. Snow, blood, sword. "I'm sorry, Marlowe I sucked in a breath. Dorian frowned. He said something to the man beside him, then started walking toward me. No. No, no, no. I turned.

"Miss?"

I kept walking.

"Excuse me."

His footsteps followed.

"Wait."

I walked faster.

"Marlowe."

I stopped. My blood ran cold. I turned slowly. He was standing a few feet away.

"How do you know my name?"

I stared at him. His expression was curious rather than threatening. He looked nothing like the Demon King and somehow that was worse.

"You don't."

He raised an eyebrow.

"You just called me Marlowe."

My mind raced. Then I realized I had spoken his name earlier. I hadn't even noticed.

"You're Dorian Wren."

The words slipped out. His expression changed. Only slightly but I saw it.

"How do you know me?"

I swallowed.

"I've heard of you."

"That's interesting."

“Why?"

"Because I haven't introduced myself."

I had no answer. He took another step closer. I stepped back. His eyes dropped briefly to the distance between us. Then I returned to my face.

"You seem afraid of me."

"I'm not."

"You're backing away."

"I don't like people standing too close."

"Fair enough."

He stopped immediately. That small act of consideration unsettled me more than it should have. The Dorian I remembered never stopped because I was uncomfortable. He had learned to make everyone else uncomfortable instead. This man simply stood there. Hands visible. No weapon drawn. No soldiers behind him. He gave me a polite smile.

"Dorian Wren."

I already knew.

"I know."

"I gathered."

He extended his hand. I stared at it. His fingers were clean. No blood and scars. Just clean hands. The same hand that had once held the sword that killed me. I couldn't touch it. His hand slowly lowered.

"Have we met before?"

"No."

The answer came too quickly. His eyes narrowed.

“No?"

"No."

He studied me. I forced myself not to look away. He was good at reading people. I remembered that much.

"So," he said quietly, "you know my name, you've never met me,

and you've been looking at me as though you've seen something horrible." My throat tightened.

"You're mistaken."

"I don't think I am."

"I have somewhere to be."

I stepped around him.

"Marlowe."

I stopped. His voice had softened. I looked back.

"Why do you look at me like you've seen a ghost?"

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. Because I had. I had seen him covered in blood. I had seen him standing over my dying body. I had seen the man he would become. But the man standing in front of me wasn't him.

"I think," I said carefully, "you remind me of someone."

"Someone you dislike?"

I looked directly into his eyes.

"Someone I should stay away from."

Then I walked away. I didn't look back. I didn't see Dorian watching me cross the lobby. I didn't see the faint crease between his brows. I heard the man beside him ask, "Who was that?" Dorian remained silent for several seconds. Then he looked toward the doors through which I had disappeared.

"I've never met her before."

A pause. His expression hardened with curiosity.

"So why does she look at me like I killed her?"