Theos drifted between waking and oblivion, his mind caught in a labyrinth of shadows that writhed and whispered at the edges of his thoughts. Each breath clawed its way into his lungs, raw and agonizing, the air dense and alien, thick with an otherworldly weight that pressed against him. What is this? he wondered, fragments of thought slipping through his grasp like smoke. The darkness wasn't just around him—it was inside him, wrapping his mind in a suffocating haze.
He fought against it, straining to anchor himself. The silence around him was not the absence of sound but a tangible force, oppressive and suffocating, as though the world itself held its breath. Yet, beneath the crushing quiet, his heartbeat pounded, wild and defiant, each beat a painful reminder of his fragile existence.
This is just a dream, he told himself, clinging to the thought like a lifeline. But the memories that emerged felt fractured, incomplete. Faces flickered before him, familiar yet blurred, their voices drowned in the void. My name is Theos Kronus. The declaration reverberated in his mind, a thin thread of identity in a sea of confusion. For a fleeting moment, it steadied him. Then, the questions surged back with ferocity. Where am I? What day is it? What am I?
When his eyes finally opened, the world came into focus slowly, as if through a veil. He was lying at the heart of a colossal crater. The land stretched out in every direction, barren and lifeless, as though the earth itself had been gouged out by some cataclysmic force. Jagged rocks jutted from the ground, their edges shimmering faintly in a dim, unnatural light. Above him, the sky churned with roiling clouds, their color an unsettling mix of gray and green, casting a pall over the desolation.
At the edge of the crater, a lone figure stood. She was statuesque, her hair cascading like molten gold over her shoulders. Her eyes, sharp and glacial, seemed to pierce through the distance, locking onto him. Her combat gear, sleek and dark, appeared almost organic, as if it had grown from the earth itself. For a moment, Theos thought she might be an illusion, a mirage conjured by his fading consciousness.
But then she moved, closing the distance with purposeful strides. Before he could react, she knelt beside him, her gaze unyielding. Without a word, she lifted him as though his weight were nothing. Her touch was a contradiction—soft yet imbued with an undeniable strength. Theos wanted to speak, to demand answers, but his thoughts spiraled into incoherence. The void claimed him once more.
Light flooded his vision when he awoke again, blinding and unrelenting. He groaned, shielding his eyes as the brightness seared into his mind, chasing away the lingering shadows. The room he was in felt both sterile and ancient, its stone walls adorned with faintly glowing runes that pulsed rhythmically. His head throbbed, his body heavy and unresponsive, as though he were submerged in a thick current.
Why am I still alive? The question was a quiet whisper in his mind, but its weight was unbearable. Memories surfaced unbidden, their edges sharp and cruel—an empty house, echoes of laughter long faded, a life defined by isolation. The ache in his chest swelled, a hollow void that threatened to consume him. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself back to the comforting embrace of unconsciousness.
But then he felt it—a presence, soft yet undeniable. It was a quiet warmth that reached for him, grounding him. Slowly, he opened his eyes. She was there. The woman from the crater. Her face was unfamiliar yet inexplicably soothing, her gaze steady and kind. Without thinking, Theos reached for her, his trembling arms encircling her in a desperate embrace. Tears spilled unchecked, his body wracked with silent sobs.
As the embrace ended, Theos's breath hitched. A faint green luminescence shimmered around the woman, pulsing softly like the heartbeat of the earth. Warmth radiated from it, not just physical but something deeper—a comfort that reached into the fractured pieces of his soul. He flinched at first, his instincts screaming at the unfamiliar, but the light wasn't menacing. It was alive, calming, as if it carried whispers of an ancient forest after a storm. This isn't a dream, he thought, his chest tightening with a mixture of awe and fear. It can't be.
The woman's presence filled the room with an unspoken authority. When she spoke, her voice was a gentle cascade, each word deliberate and imbued with a quiet power. "This is Aryka," she began, her gaze steady and unwavering. "A world divided into five continents. You are in the land of humans and elves, a fragile balance between two worlds often at odds."
Theos stared at her, trying to anchor himself to her words, but his mind spiraled. "Aryka…?" he repeated, the name foreign and heavy on his tongue. His hands curled into fists, the rough texture of the bed's fabric grounding him momentarily. "Why am I here? Why me?"
Her expression softened, her glacial blue eyes meeting his with something close to understanding. "You were brought here because you survived what others would not. The crater you woke in—it wasn't random. Something ancient called to you, something powerful enough to tear apart the earth itself. That power… is now part of you."
Theos blinked, the enormity of her words hitting him like a tidal wave. Memories of the crater surged back—the desolation, the raw emptiness that seemed to echo inside him even now. "I don't… understand," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I don't feel powerful. I feel broken."
She moved closer, kneeling so they were at eye level. Her hand hovered just above his chest, not touching but close enough for him to feel the warmth of her presence. "Broken things can heal, Theos," she said softly, her words carrying a weight that resonated deeply. "Sometimes, they become stronger than before. But healing requires time… and a choice."
Her words kindled something within him—a flicker of defiance, of hope. He thought of the emptiness that had plagued him before this moment, the loneliness that had defined his life. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he didn't feel alone. This woman—this ancient elf with her luminous presence—was an anchor in a world that made no sense. He wanted to trust her, even if he couldn't yet trust himself.
"What's your name?" he asked finally, his voice barely above a whisper.
She smiled, a small, fleeting thing, but it reached her eyes. "Roseville," she said. "I am an ancient elf, a guardian of nature's essence." She gestured to the faint green glow that surrounded her, the light growing softer as she spoke. "This is the bond I share with the earth. It sustains me, and I sustain it."
Theos nodded slowly, his mind trying to process the enormity of her words. "And what am I?" he asked. The question hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed.
"You," she said, her tone careful, "are something new. Not just human anymore. The power that found you… it's awakening. What it will make of you is still uncertain."
He swallowed hard, the implications sinking in. His mind raced with possibilities, fears, and an unfamiliar determination. "If this power is part of me now, I need to control it," he said. "I can't… I won't let it destroy me."
She studied him for a long moment, her gaze searching. Then, she nodded. "Control takes discipline. Strength. But most of all, it takes purpose."
He looked at her, his tears now replaced by a quiet resolve. In the depths of his despair, she had become a beacon—not just of survival, but of something greater. "Then teach me," he said, the words carrying the weight of a vow. "Teach me to use it. Teach me magic."
Roseville's expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of approval in her eyes. "Magic is not something you use, Theos. It's something you become. But I will guide you."
Theos straightened, the ache in his chest dulling for the first time. He thought of the crater, the vast emptiness he had woken to. And then he thought of Roseville—the warmth of her presence, the strength in her words. "I'll protect you," he said suddenly, the promise escaping before he could fully grasp it. "No matter what it takes. I'll protect you."
Her eyes softened, her gaze briefly flicking away. "The path ahead will be dangerous," she said. "To protect, you must first survive."
"I'll survive," he said, the certainty in his voice surprising even himself. For the first time, he felt a spark of purpose—a reason to fight, to grow stronger. And as he held her gaze, he knew that whatever lay ahead, he would face it with everything he had.