Noah floated in a cold, endless darkness. The silence pressed in on him, thick and heavy, like a weight on his chest. But somewhere in that silence, something stirred—a voice, rough with desperation, clawing through the darkness.
"Noah… LISTEN TO ME! You can't… you can't go after it!"
The words sent a tremor through his bones, striking something deep within him. He strained to see the face behind the voice, to reach for it, but his hand met nothing. The voice felt familiar, piercing through the fog of his mind, but the details stayed maddeningly out of reach.
"Trust me, Noah. You… you HAVE TO TRUST ME! Please, don't—"
The words fractured, fading as if snatched away by an invisible force, leaving only a faint, trembling echo in their wake.
And then, silence.
Awakening
Noah's eyes snapped open, his breath catching as he stared up at a fractured metal ceiling. Moonlight streamed through a jagged crack, casting thin beams across the twisted wreckage surrounding him. The cold metal beneath him pressed against his back, sharp and unyielding, and the air was thick with the smell of burnt machinery.
Slowly, he pushed himself up, every muscle aching. He lay amidst the skeletal remains of a vessel—tangled cables, shattered glass, warped beams. His thoughts were heavy, clouded, as though they were buried under layers of fog. Where… am I? The question drifted through his mind, deepening the strange emptiness inside him.
He looked down at his hands, scraped and raw. A strange hollowness gnawed at him, a sharp, quiet ache. He felt like he was reaching for something—something just beyond his grasp.
Who am I? The thought echoed, laced with frustration. It felt wrong to be here, in this cold wreckage, without a single memory of how he got here. Every time he tried to recall something, his mind hit a wall, blank and unyielding.
The silence was broken by a soft crunch of footsteps.
"Well, that's a sight I didn't expect."
Noah turned, heart pounding. A figure stood at the edge of the wreckage, blond hair catching the moonlight, his expression curious but cautious. The boy looked to be around his age, yet there was something oddly steady in his gaze, a hint of wariness.
Noah swallowed, his throat dry. "Who… who are you?"
The boy raised his hands slightly, a small smile flickering on his face. "Name's Luke. I was just passing through and saw this… well, crash. Didn't expect anyone to be, you know… alive in here."
Noah glanced around at the twisted remnants of the vessel, its skeleton broken and hollow. A flicker of unease twisted in his chest. "I… don't remember how I got here. Or… anything."
Luke's face softened, though he kept a careful distance. "Nothing at all?"
Noah shook his head, the ache in his temples intensifying. "Just… fragments. I think I heard someone—a voice, but I don't know who it was. Or what it meant."
Luke watched him thoughtfully, then sighed, glancing around the crash site. "Well, you're not the only one who feels lost. The world's… different lately. Changed."
Noah took in the barren landscape around them, his gaze drifting over the blackened remains of trees with twisted branches that stretched toward the sky like skeletal fingers. A strange sensation tightened in his chest, like he was connected to this desolation, as if the land and his own fractured mind were mirrors of each other.
A faint, pulsing glow caught his eye on the horizon. It flickered, warm and steady, a distant light that seemed to call to him.
He felt a strange pull, deep and instinctual, tugging at him from somewhere he couldn't name. "What… is that?"
Luke followed his gaze, his expression unreadable. "That," he said quietly, "is the Aegis Tree. People call it the Tree of Protection."
The name stirred something in him, a faint, unsteady recognition. Noah frowned, feeling a strange ache in his chest. "The Tree of Protection?"
Luke nodded, gaze distant. "It's ancient. They say it's been here longer than the empires, longer than anyone can remember. It kept the world in balance… until things went wrong."
Noah looked at him, piecing together fragments of meaning from the words. "What happened?"
Luke's gaze darkened as he looked at the glow. "A thousand years ago, they say the world was whole—one vast land, filled with cities, people, life. Then came the Shattering."
The word sent a chill through Noah, like an echo from a dream. "The Shattering?"
Luke nodded, his voice low. "There was a cult—a group called the Harbingers of the Shattered Veil. They followed a man some call a mad scientist. He took something from the Aegis Tree, something called the World Runes, and shattered them. It tore the world apart. What you see now? It's the fragments of what was."
Noah stared out at the desolate land, the twisted trees, the empty sky. He felt a hollow ache settle inside him, as if something deep within recognized this broken world.
"So… it's all… pieces?" he murmured.
Luke glanced at him. "Mostly. The empires have rebuilt in their own ways, but the land is fractured, split into six regions. And as for the Tree… it's still there, still giving power to some. They call them the awakened—people who can draw on the Tree's energy, those who carry its essence. They're… different."
Noah looked down at his hands, feeling a strange warmth pulsing beneath his skin. "Awakened," he repeated.
"Yeah," Luke said, his tone lighter. "If you've got the spark, you're one of them. People come from all over to the central academy—neutral ground, where anyone with potential can train, learn… become stronger. It's where the empires send their best."
Noah felt a faint spark of hope, mixed with unease. "And they… let anyone join?"
Luke gave a small, wry smile. "Not quite. You have to prove yourself first. The trials are… well, they're not for the faint-hearted."
Noah took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Despite the fog in his mind, he felt a strange pull toward the academy—a whisper that this was where he needed to be.
"What about… the Aegis Tree?" he asked, glancing back at the distant glow. "What's it like?"
Luke's face softened, gaze distant. "The Tree's… complicated. Some say it watches over us. Others think it does more than that." He hesitated. "It's ancient. No one really knows."
Noah shivered, feeling the weight of those words. Something about the Tree felt… unsettling, like it was something better left unexamined.
Outside the Crash Site
They climbed out of the wreckage and stepped onto the rocky ground. The wind was sharp, carrying a faint metallic chill, and Noah felt the cold seep into his skin. The night stretched above them, stars scattered across the sky like distant fires, dim and pale against the dark.
The silence was deep, almost suffocating. Noah glanced back at the crash site, the torn remnants of metal and glass, the skeleton of something that had been destroyed beyond recognition. He felt a sense of loss, an ache that he couldn't explain.
"How long has it been like this?" he asked quietly.
Luke looked at him, his expression unreadable. "Since the Shattering? A thousand years, give or take. Empires have come and gone, and the land's… well, the land remembers."
Noah's gaze drifted over the barren expanse, feeling as if the world itself was scarred, fractured. He didn't know why, but he felt connected to this place, as if he were a part of its broken history.
They walked in silence for a while, the crunch of their footsteps the only sound. Noah stole a glance at the glow of the Aegis Tree on the horizon, feeling its presence like a memory buried deep within him.
As they walked, the fragments of his vision lingered, the words haunting him.
Don't go after it… trust me…
He didn't know whose voice it was, but he felt its weight, its desperation, as if the warning was etched into his bones. He didn't understand what it meant, but he knew, somehow, that it was tied to the Tree, to the academy, to the fragments of memory that eluded him.
And as he walked beside Luke, he felt a whisper of something dark, something hidden, lying just beyond the edge of his mind, waiting.