A young boy, no more than seven years old, lay motionless on a simple bed.
Suddenly, Jaden's eyes flickered open, and he bolted upright, fear and terror etched across his face. The last thing he remembered was being confronted by terrifying monsters, and everything that followed was a blur, lost in the chaos. He glanced down at himself and felt a pang of sadness; he wasn't wearing his suit anymore.
His heart sank. The suit was more than just clothing; it was a piece of him, and its absence made his chest tighten.
"Where am I?" he murmured, his voice trembling as he looked around.
The room was small, starkly white, and bare. A bed, a chair, a table, and a lamp were the only furnishings, each painted the same sterile shade of white. It felt cold and impersonal, like a space designed to strip away identity. Then, his gaze landed on something that sent a chill down his spine, his suit, reduced to nothing but ash.
