I opened my eyes to nothing but darkness. It wasn't the kind of darkness I expected, the kind that follows sleep, but an endless, suffocating void that pressed against my skin. My head throbbed, sharp pain slicing through my skull. I tried to lift my hands, but something was wrong—my limbs felt stiff and unfamiliar. The air tasted bitter, sharp, as though the world had turned into a place where breathing itself was a struggle.

I coughed, the sound ragged, but no one was around to hear. A soft rustle came from somewhere, but I couldn't pinpoint where. Slowly, I pulled myself up, blinking hard. My fingers brushed against the rough bark of a tree, and the sudden sensation grounded me. I was... outside. The wind was cold, biting at my skin like a reminder that I was in no place familiar.

Then, the fog lifted—just a little. The memory began to return in pieces, jagged and painful. The last thing I remembered before the darkness was being hit—hard—then a crushing sense of panic. Something had happened. And I was no longer where I used to be.

My breath quickened, panic rising in my chest. I tried to speak, but the words felt foreign, slipping out of my mouth with a strange heaviness. I clenched my jaw, willing myself to stop, to think. The world was unfamiliar. This place was nothing like the home I had known before. The air was... different. The ground felt... harder. The sky was a shade of grey I couldn't recall ever seeing.

I pushed against the ground, my hands pressing into the dirt and leaves. My knees were shaking as I stood, testing my balance. I could barely feel my feet, but somehow, I managed to stay upright.

Then it hit me—what I had become.

My body. It wasn't mine. I was small—too small. My hands were smaller, my legs shorter. My mind raced, struggling to comprehend what had happened. The faintest of memories flitted at the edge of my mind. Seven. I'm seven years old now.

I staggered backward, my head reeling. It wasn't just my age—something was wrong with my surroundings, too. The trees were too tall, the sounds too sharp. I could smell something in the air—wood smoke mixed with something bitter, something burning.

A rustle. The wind? Or something more?

I strained my senses, and in the distance, I heard the faint sounds of movement. I wasn't alone. Panic surged again, but I forced myself to calm. I wasn't in any state to be found. Not like this. I needed to think.

I squatted low, my heart racing as I tried to force my panic under control. Think. Focus. What do I remember?

I scoured my memory—flashes of images came to me in sharp jolts. The pain. The fear. And then… nothing. A vast, empty space. I had no idea what happened after. What was real, and what was a fragment of a nightmare?

But there was one thing that stuck—this was not home.

I swallowed hard, glancing around. The world was unnaturally quiet, save for the distant rustling of leaves. The sky was darkening, and I felt a growing chill in the air. Without a plan, I moved.

One step. Then another. My legs felt awkward, uncoordinated as I tried to make my way through the underbrush. My feet slipped on the wet earth, and every breath felt heavier than the last.

I need to find food. That thought was clear. The sharp pang in my stomach reminded me of the simple fact: survival. I needed to survive.

There was no time for panic, no room for weakness. I had to move forward, even if I didn't understand where forward led.

Hours—or maybe minutes—passed before I finally stumbled across a small stream. The sound of the water was almost comforting. I knelt down, hands trembling as I cupped my fingers together and scooped up a small handful. The water was cold and fresh, and for the first time since I woke up, I allowed myself a small breath of relief. It wasn't much, but it would have to do for now. I drank greedily, not caring that I might be too quick, that it could make me sick later. It was all I had.

The realization hit me again—this is it. I'm alone.

I sat back on my heels, looking around at the unfamiliar trees, the strange underbrush. I could hear the rustling of leaves, maybe something moving through the shadows, but nothing that felt like company. Nothing that felt safe. There were no clear roads, no signs, no civilization in sight.

I felt my stomach growl again, louder this time, and a sharp reminder jolted me into action. Hunt. Find something.

I stood, a slow ache pulling through my body, reminding me how weak I was. I was used to being a part of something bigger, but now, I was a small child in a place where nothing made sense.

And as the sun dipped lower, leaving only faint light behind, I knew this was only the beginning. The beginning of what, though?

I didn't know. But for now, that didn't matter. What mattered was food, and finding shelter.

I moved cautiously into the underbrush, every sense alert. The world felt alien, distant, but at least I had some idea of what I needed. The rest, I would have to figure out as I went.