When Ragnar awoke, he was no longer in the void.
For a moment, his mind struggled to grasp the shift. He had been torn apart, extinguished in that nameless dimension. And yet, here he was, lying on something soft, something warm. He felt the gentle touch of grass beneath him, the earth cool against his skin. His breath was slow, steady—there was no pain, no fear, no pressing urgency. For the first time in what felt like eons, there was only peace.
He sat up slowly, blinking against the bright, unfamiliar light. The world around him was vibrant, alive in ways he had never imagined. Above him stretched a vast sky, its azure hue gently dotted with clouds that drifted lazily across the expanse. The sun blazed in the distance, casting golden rays of warmth that bathed the land in soft, comforting light.
His eyes wandered, taking in his surroundings. Tall trees swayed in the breeze, their leaves a rich, lush green. Birds—actual, living birds—sang from their branches, their melodies sweet and clear. The air smelled fresh, clean, filled with the scent of wildflowers and damp earth. The world was alive.
Ragnar's fingers flexed, feeling the texture of the grass beneath them. He could taste the air, hear the hum of life all around him. For all the endless darkness he had known, this world was so full of light, so full of… life.
He looked down at himself, at his body. It was no longer the swirling mass of darkness he had once been. His form was solid, humanoid—a body that felt his every movement. His skin was pale, almost translucent in the sunlight, and his silver hair cascaded down his back in soft waves. His eyes, when he looked into them in a nearby pool of water, were a pale blue—uncertain, unfamiliar, but undeniably his.
For a long time, Ragnar simply sat there, unsure of what to do next. His mind was blank, his memory fragmented. He knew, in some distant part of himself, that he had been... someone before. But who? And why?
He tried to recall the events of his death in the void—the sensation of being torn apart, the battle with the radiant figure, the overwhelming feeling of release as his existence unraveled. But it was all clouded, distant. The more he reached for it, the more it slipped away from him.
A noise broke his thoughts.
Footsteps.
He turned his head toward the sound, and there, emerging from the trees, was a figure.
At first, he thought it might be another challenger, one who had come to destroy him—another killer, another force that would tear him apart. But as the figure drew closer, he saw that this was not an enemy. It was… a person.
She was young, perhaps in her early twenties, with fiery red hair that fell in waves around her shoulders. Her eyes were bright, gleaming with curiosity, and her face was soft, open. She wore simple, flowing robes, and in her hand, she carried a staff—a long, slender piece of wood adorned with intricate, glowing runes. The staff hummed with a quiet power, though It seemed far gentler than the weapons he had once faced.
The woman stopped a few paces away, her gaze settling on him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. She studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"You're awake," she said, her voice soft but steady, almost as if she had been expecting him.
Ragnar blinked, unsure of how to respond. His throat felt dry, and the words seemed distant, as if he had never used them before. But he forced them out, his voice rough and uncertain.
"I… I don't remember."
Her expression softened, and she took a step closer, her staff resting gently against the ground. "That's okay," she said, her tone reassuring. "You're safe now."
Ragnar didn't know what to make of her words. Safe? He had no idea what "safe" even meant in this place. He had never known safety in his life, never known peace. His existence had been defined by violence, by the endless cycle of fighting and dying.
But this… this felt different. The air was warm. The sky was bright. Life was not a fleeting thing here, not something to be feared or destroyed.
The woman knelt beside him, her gaze never leaving his. "I found you collapsed near the edge of the forest," she explained. "It seemed like you were… lost, or hurt. Are you alright?"
Her eyes were filled with a quiet kindness, but Ragnar couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He didn't belong here. This world was too peaceful, too gentle. He had been forged in the endless darkness of the void, torn apart by people who came to kill him. He was something… other.
"I don't know what's happening," he muttered, his mind swirling with confusion. "I don't know who I am."
The woman nodded, her expression thoughtful. "We'll figure that out," she said softly. "But for now, let's get you somewhere safe. You've been through a lot."
Ragnar didn't protest. He wasn't sure what else to do. So he let her help him to his feet, and together, they began to walk through the forest. With every step, Ragnar could feel the weight of the world pressing against him, the weight of his forgotten past. He could still feel the echo of the void within him, the lingering sensation of a life filled with fear and violence.
But with each step, that feeling seemed to lessen, if only slightly.
The woman—Ragnar could barely bring himself to ask her name—led him through the forest, her movements graceful and assured. As they walked, he found himself noticing the beauty of the world around him. The trees were tall and proud, their leaves shimmering in the sunlight. The air smelled like fresh earth and wildflowers. Birds flitted between the branches, singing songs that filled the silence with life.
It was a world alive.
Eventually, they emerged from the trees into a small clearing. A simple house stood at the center, its walls made of stone and wood, its roof a thatched expanse of straw. It was humble, but it radiated a kind of warmth—a welcoming, safe place.
The woman led him inside, where a fire crackled in a hearth, casting soft shadows on the walls. The room smelled of cooked food, herbs, and something sweet. A table sat in the center, filled with bowls and plates of food. The woman gestured for Ragnar to sit.
"You must be hungry," she said with a smile. "I'll make you something to eat."
Ragnar nodded, though he wasn't sure how to feel. Hunger was a foreign concept to him. He had never known true hunger, not in the sense that people did. In the void, there was no need for food, no need for sustenance. But here, in this strange new world, his body felt different.
He sat at the table, watching her move around the room with practiced ease, preparing the meal. Her presence was comforting, soothing even, and yet Ragnar couldn't shake the feeling that he was out of place.
"So," the woman said, breaking the silence, "I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Riona."
Ragnar looked at her, the name rolling off his tongue as if it were something he should have already known. "Riona," he repeated softly.
"Yes," she said, glancing back at him with a smile. "I've lived here for many years. This place—this land—is my home. And now, it's yours, too."
Ragnar didn't respond immediately. His mind was still swirling with questions, with thoughts of his past—of the dimension he had come from, of the endless battles he had fought, of the strange, radiant figure who had ended it all. But there was something about Riona, something in her eyes that made him hesitate. She spoke with a certainty that he did not yet possess, as if she knew something he didn't.
As she placed a bowl of food in front of him, she watched him closely, her expression softening. "Ragnar, whatever happened to you—whatever you've been through—you're not alone anymore. You don't have to carry it by yourself."
Her words… they struck something deep inside him. For a moment, he wanted to argue, to say that he wasn't like the people in this world. He was different. He was broken. But instead, he found himself nodding slowly, unsure of what to say next.
They ate in silence, the fire crackling softly between them. Ragnar couldn't shake the feeling that this was the beginning of something, something important. But what? And why him?
He didn't know.
But for the first time in his life, he felt a flicker of hope—a small, fragile thing—but it was there. Perhaps, just perhaps, this new world held the answers he had been searching for.
Ragnar had no idea what the future held. But he knew this: he wasn't alone anymore.
To be continued.