A cold sensation crept into his bones as he slowly opened his eyes, finding himself lying on a cracked wooden floor. The low ceiling and wooden walls enclosed him, and in the corner of the room, a small fireplace emitted faint, dying embers. He sat up, leaning on his elbow, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
His mind felt foggy, like a dream half-remembered. He struggled to piece together fragments of his past, but one thing stood out—Earth. He remembered living on Earth, a familiar world now shrouded in the haze of his memory. He recalled going to sleep, but everything after that was a blur, as if his life had been abruptly severed from that reality and transplanted here.
He took a deep breath, running his hands over his arms and legs, then touched his face. The body felt strange, foreign even. It was as if he were inhabiting someone else's skin. "Who am I?" he murmured softly.
As he stood, a name surfaced in his mind: Marlin Nile. The name resonated within him, like an echo from a distant part of himself. Yet, the context eluded him, lost in the thick fog of his fragmented thoughts.
He moved toward the single window in the room, peering outside at a snow-covered landscape stretching into the distance, with flakes gently falling from a pale sky. The place seemed utterly isolated, with no signs of life nearby. The cold seeped into the room, making him shiver as he edged closer to the fireplace for some warmth.
His eyes scanned the small house, seeking anything that might offer clarity. The furnishings were sparse: a wooden table, a single chair, and a small shelf with a few dusty books. He touched the spines of the books, feeling the grainy texture under his fingertips.
As he stood there, the sound of the wind outside faded, and a profound stillness enveloped him. A sense of displacement gnawed at his consciousness, the feeling that this place, wherever it was, wasn't his. He had been placed here, but why?
He looked at his hands once more, whispering, "Marlin Nile... who are you? And why am I here?"