Aramith's mind was hazy, each thought a slow, aching ripple through his consciousness. What had happened? The last moment before… what? Nothing. His memory was blank. His eyes were tightly shut, and he couldn't decide whether to keep them closed or open them. Every part of his body felt foreign, as though it wasn't his own. The cold ground beneath him seemed to press against him, but he couldn't even recall how he'd ended up there.
He tried to open his eyes, but they refused to obey, as though sealed shut. Panic started to creep up his spine, and he pushed against the heaviness, gathering what little strength he could. Finally, after a tense moment, he managed to open his eyes—and found himself in complete darkness. The unfamiliarity of his surroundings hit him like a wall. There was no sound, no light, just an all-consuming black void. He shivered, feeling the cold bite into his skin, and realized, with a jolt, that he was naked, save for the darkness itself.
Confusion mixed with growing unease. Where was he? How had he ended up here?
With great effort, he managed to push himself up, his muscles aching, as if the simple act of standing required every ounce of his energy. The pain gnawed at him, but he refused to stay down. He reached out blindly, his hand grazing against something solid. A wall? He leaned against it, his breath coming in shallow bursts. Why was this so hard? Why did the simplest actions take so much from him?
"What's going on here?" His voice trembled with a mix of fear and frustration. "An illusion? No, illusions don't make you weak." He shook his head, trying to clear it, but his thoughts refused to settle.
His eyes fluttered shut again, and for a moment, everything seemed still. But then, as if on command, the faintest flicker of light appeared before him—a tiny flame, weak and wavering. It grew, hesitantly at first, but soon began to spread, and as it did, the surroundings shifted.
He blinked, and suddenly, he was in a room—small, dim, almost too quiet. A candle burned softly on a table, next to a parchment and an inkwell. The room was almost too still, as though frozen in time. He couldn't focus on any of it before the ground trembled violently beneath him.
The window rattled. The walls groaned. And then, with an explosive crash, the glass shattered. Darkness seeped in, crawling like ink, swallowing everything in its path. Dark, root-like tendrils slithered from the cracks in the floor, twisting and writhing. The paintings on the walls tilted, some falling to the ground, others being swallowed whole by the blackness.
Aramith could only watch as the room seemed to fall apart around him. The table buckled, the candle tipped over, and the fire began. It spread quickly, licking at the walls, crawling up to devour everything it touched. He tried to move, but his legs wouldn't obey. The smoke, the heat—it all overwhelmed him, and in the midst of the flames, he shut his eyes tight.
A deafening blast rang through the air, and suddenly, he was falling again—falling through endless darkness, nothing around him but a sinking feeling of dread.
When he landed, the world shifted once more. He was no longer in the room. Now, the cold chill of the forest bit at his skin. The moon hung overhead, casting pale light through the twisted trees. The forest, too, seemed endless, and yet, as if drawn by an invisible thread, he began to walk. Something—a figure—caught his attention.
As he neared, he saw her—Lia. She stood just beyond his reach, but her face contorted in fear. She was running—no, being chased. He called out to her, his voice raw, but she didn't hear him. A shadow loomed behind her, someone taller, darker.
"Stop!" he shouted, but as if in response, the ground shifted again. He tripped and fell. A searing pain shot through his head, and the world blurred. Images, memories, they all poured into him like a flood. His mind fractured, and everything around him became a blur of agony and confusion.
"MAKE IT STOP! IT HURTS!" His voice broke, but nothing changed. The pain intensified. He struggled to hold onto anything, but his mind began to slip away from him.
And then, everything went silent.
"Aramith..."
The whisper echoed in his ears, and clarity washed over him like a tide. Lia. He remembered.
He forced himself to his feet, pushing through the agony as he started his painful journey toward where he had last heard her scream. It wasn't far, but his body was weak, and he stumbled several times, falling to the ground. Bruises marred his skin, and blood trickled from his head where he'd struck it earlier. The pain was unbearable, and it would have broken anyone else, but not him. Not now. Only one thought consumed his mind: Lia was in trouble. Nothing else mattered.
Through his blurred vision, he spotted her up ahead. He scanned the area frantically for the man who had been chasing her, but he saw no one. She was sitting on the ground, breathing heavily, exhaustion etched into every line of her face. Her clothes were torn from the branches and thorns of the forest, and her hair hung in wild tangles, making her look almost unrecognizable. At least she was safe—for now—but he had no time to relax. He couldn't stop moving, not until she was truly safe.
But his body betrayed him. With a painful groan, he fell once more, struggling to push himself up. His energy was nearly gone. He managed to pull himself into a sitting position under a tree, gasping for air, desperately trying to regain enough strength to get back on his feet. When he finally stood again, it was almost in a daze, but then she turned. Her eyes met his, and a smile broke across her face.
"Aramith!"
She stood up, relief flooding her features. But that joy quickly shifted to fear. Before she could reach him, a man appeared in front of her out of nowhere. The moment he landed, he grabbed her wrist with brutal force. She struggled, but he yanked her off the ground, pulling her away from Aramith with terrifying strength.
Without thinking, Aramith surged forward, pushing himself into a desperate run. "Lia!" he called, his voice hoarse, filled with urgency. She turned, her eyes wide with terror.
"Aramith!" Her voice, trembling, barely reached his ears as she reached out to him with a hand that seemed to slip through his fingers like sand. He lunged forward, but just as their hands almost touched, she was dragged away.
"No! NO!"
He reached for her, but he was too slow. She was torn from his grasp, and before he could comprehend what was happening, he felt the ground give way beneath him. He fell, deeper and deeper, the darkness swallowing him whole.
The world around him blurred into blackness, and his body grew numb with every second he fell. He didn't scream, didn't cry out—he just fell.
"I failed you, Lia…" The words barely escaped his lips, a final thought as the darkness closed in.
"I failed you, Lia."