Part I: The Awakening 1. The End of One Life

The rain didn’t fall gently.

It crashed from the heavens in torrents, soaking the city in a grey blur. Thunder cracked across the skyline like a warning too late, and lightning split the clouds, casting flickering light on cold, empty streets.

Aeryn stood there, barely registering the downpour, his breath fogging the air. His coat clung to him like dead weight, and water dripped from his hair into his eyes, but he didn’t blink. His gaze was fixed on the man walking away from him, disappearing into the blur of headlights and shadows.

He should have said something. Anything.

But all that came out was silence. Again.

It was always silence in the end.

A screech of tires shattered the stillness.

Aeryn turned—too slow. The blinding headlights came fast, too fast. Then came the impact. Bone snapped. Air vanished from his lungs. His body lifted, then slammed into the cold asphalt. For a moment, the world went black.

Then everything rushed back—sound, pain, confusion.

People screamed. Someone shouted for help. He heard footsteps rushing toward him. But Aeryn couldn’t move. He lay still, feeling the warmth of the pool beneath him. Rain mixed with blood, staining the street red and silver.

His heart pounded weakly, fading like a slow drumbeat. The pain dulled into a cold ache. His vision flickered.

A face appeared above him—someone he didn’t know. Their lips moved, but the words didn’t reach him. He didn’t care anymore.

Strangely, he wasn’t afraid.

Then it happened.

The chaos disappeared. The city faded. And all that remained was a pair of eyes—storm-gray, distant, watching him not with pity, but something deeper.

Familiar. Haunting.

He had seen them before… in dreams? In a life he hasn’t lived yet?

“Wait…” he whispered hoarsely, reaching up with trembling fingers. “Please…”

The figure was gone. The eyes vanished.

Darkness swallowed everything.

---

Death, he had assumed, was final.

But as consciousness clawed its way back, Aeryn realized he had been wrong.

It wasn’t peace he returned to.

It was mud.

He jerked upright, coughing violently, spitting out cold, foul-tasting water. His lungs burned as if fire lived inside them. He choked and gasped, finally rolling onto his side on a wet, mossy patch of ground.

The air was thick—humid, heavy with the scent of decay and dampness. Every breath he took brought a taste of something unfamiliar and wrong.

“Where…” His voice cracked, hoarse and unfamiliar.

He blinked against the light—or the lack of it. Overhead, a sickly green sky churned, thick with dark clouds that moved unnaturally, pulsing like they were alive. A distant rumble rolled across the sky—not thunder. Something deeper. More primal.

He pushed himself to sit up, knees trembling. His heart pounded, but not out of fear. Out of disbelief.

The stream he had just crawled from looked more like ink than water. The trees nearby were twisted, gnarled into shapes that hurt his eyes if he stared too long. There were no buildings, no roads, no voices.

Just silence… and the occasional distant howl.

Everything about this place felt wrong.

His gaze dropped to his hands.

They were… not his.

Smaller. Paler. No scars. His hands had been calloused, rough from years of typing, sketching, living. These hands were untouched. New.

He stumbled to a puddle and stared down.

A different face stared back at him. Younger. Clean. Pale gray-blue eyes that weren’t his—but somehow were. His hair was lighter, longer. His jawline sharper. He looked almost… elfin.

“What the hell is this…?”

His breathing quickened. He scrambled backward, slipped on the moss, and landed hard on his back.

This had to be a dream. Or madness.

But everything felt too real.

Then came the sound again—a growl. Not from a dog or a wolf, but something much larger. It vibrated through the ground, making the trees tremble.

His body froze. Every nerve screamed for him to run.

Behind a curtain of vines, something moved. Massive. Lurking. Watching.

He couldn't breathe.

A shadow shifted again. Then another, nearer. Low snarls echoed through the trees.

“No,” he whispered, trying to back away. “No, no, no—”

A branch snapped behind him.

He spun around—and saw him.

A figure stepped through the underbrush, parting it like paper. Tall and poised, he moved with a quiet grace that spoke of power and danger. He wore black armor that shimmered like glass under the green sky, and a long cloak flowed behind him, edged in silver threads. A sword was sheathed across his back, but he made no move to draw it.

His face—Aeryn stopped breathing again.

The man was beautiful in a way that felt unreal. High cheekbones, smooth skin, dark lashes framing those same storm-gray eyes that had haunted his final moments. His dark hair fell to his shoulders in soft, wind-swept layers, untouched by the grime and rot of this place.

He didn’t look human. He looked carved. Divine.

But his expression was unreadable. Cold. Calculating.

And yet, when their eyes met, something passed between them—quick, unspoken. Recognition?

"You don’t belong here,” the man said, his voice low and velvet-smooth, with the edge of a blade behind it.

Aeryn's heart stuttered. He tried to stand, but his legs were still shaking. “W-Where is this? What’s going on?”

The man frowned slightly. “You shouldn’t have survived the Crossing.”

“Crossing?”

“I should leave you here,” he muttered, half to himself. “You’ll be dead in minutes.”

A sound erupted in the trees. Not a growl this time—a scream. Animal, but distorted. Painful.

The man stepped closer and knelt in front of him.

His tone was sharper now. “Listen to me. If you want to live, you follow me. Don’t speak. Don’t run off. Don’t question what you see.”

“Wait—who are you? Why do you look familiar?”

The man’s eyes narrowed for a second, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he stood and turned, his cloak sweeping the ground behind him.

Aeryn hesitated.

Should he trust this stranger?

But the howls were growing louder, and his instincts screamed that staying here meant death.

He got up, wobbling, and followed.

---

They moved through dense, tangled forest. The trees bent unnaturally, their limbs reaching like fingers. Bioluminescent insects lit the air in bursts of violet. Strange creatures chittered in the shadows.

The man said nothing.

Aeryn watched him as they walked. Every movement was controlled, fluid, almost feline. He wasn’t just strong—he was experienced. He belonged to this place in a way Aeryn never could.

After nearly half an hour, they stopped in a small hollow hidden by thick rock walls and vines. A fire was already burning—lit magically, maybe—and Aeryn sat near it, his body finally beginning to thaw.

The man stood guard, watching the treeline.

After a long silence, Aeryn asked, “What’s your name?”

The man glanced at him. “Kael.”

“I’m Aeryn,” he replied softly.

Kael’s eyes lingered on him for a moment. “I know.”

Aeryn’s chest tightened.

"You know me?”

Kael didn’t reply. He turned back toward the shadows.

The silence grew again. But this time, it wasn’t empty.

It was full of questions neither of them were ready to ask.

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