Arin gasped, his lungs filled with crisp, unfamiliar air. His body was cold, but not from pain—rather from the sensation of lying on soft grass under the light of two moons. He shot upright, heart pounding, as his mind grappled with what had just occurred.

"This... this can't be real," he muttered, staring in disbelief at the alien sky above.

The landscape was ethereal. Tall silver trees swayed gently in a breeze that carried the faint scent of lavender. Strange glowing creatures flitted between the branches like will-o'-the-wisps, and the distant hum of magic resonated through the air.

Arin looked down at his hands. They weren't his hands—not the ones he had known in his previous life. His skin was smoother, unmarked by scars, and his fingers felt longer, more nimble. His body was stronger, leaner. He felt… different.

A wave of panic surged through him.

"Where am I?" he breathed, clutching his chest. His heart was racing, but it wasn't the same heart that had failed him before. He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. Memories of his old life surfaced—an apartment in disrepair, loneliness, the endless monotony of work—but now they felt distant, almost foreign.

A soft rustling nearby broke his thoughts. Instinctively, he turned toward the sound. From the underbrush emerged a figure, tall and cloaked in dark, flowing robes. A pair of glowing blue eyes peered out from beneath the hood.

"Ah, the Outlander has finally awakened," the figure said in a voice that was deep and melodic.

Arin scrambled to his feet, stumbling backward. "Who are you? Where am I?"

The figure stepped closer, removing the hood to reveal a woman's face—sharp and angular, with skin as pale as moonlight. Her silver hair cascaded down her shoulders, and around her neck hung an intricate pendant that pulsed with faint light.

"I am Seris," she said, her eyes never leaving his. "And you, Outlander, are in the Shattered Realm—a world born from the remnants of a forgotten age."

"The… Shattered Realm?" Arin echoed, his confusion deepening.

Seris nodded. "A place where time and magic intertwine, where the boundaries between life and death are thin. You are not the first to be reborn here, though you are certainly… different."

"Different?" Arin's mind raced. "What do you mean?"

Seris tilted her head, studying him. "Most souls that find their way here are fragmented, lost. But you…" Her gaze sharpened. "You have come with purpose. You have retained your memories, your will. That is rare."

Arin swallowed hard. "So, I'm… reincarnated?"

"Yes," she said, her voice softening. "You have been given a second chance, though at what cost remains to be seen."

Arin's thoughts spun. He had died. He was sure of that. But now he was standing in this strange, magical world, in a body that wasn't his own. A second chance? For what?

"Why me?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "Why was I brought here?"

Seris's eyes darkened. "That, Outlander, is a question only the Fates can answer. But know this—the Shattered Realm is a dangerous place. Power struggles between kingdoms, ancient evils lurking in the shadows, and a prophecy that speaks of a soul from beyond our world, one who will either save us or bring about our destruction."

A chill ran down Arin's spine. "And you think that's me?"

Seris smiled, though there was no warmth in it. "Perhaps. Or perhaps you are merely a pawn in a game far greater than you can imagine."