A sharp breath filled Noah's lungs as his body lurched awake. Cold air stung his skin, and the scent of damp earth and moss flooded his senses. He gasped, his muscles tightening with instinctive fear, his mind sluggishly processing his surroundings.
Where… was he?
The ground beneath him was uneven, covered in a thick layer of fallen leaves. Towering trees stretched endlessly around him, their trunks ancient and gnarled, their canopies shrouding the sky in a blanket of green. Shafts of golden sunlight pierced through in patches, illuminating dust and mist swirling in the air. The only sounds were the distant rustle of leaves and the faint chirping of unseen birds.
Noah sat up, wincing as pain flared through his body. His arms were scraped, his clothes torn, as if he had been running from something. But no memory surfaced. His mind was empty. A void where his past should have been.
His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to force something—anything—to come back to him. His name? He knew that much. Noah. But beyond that… nothing. No family, no home, no reason for being here.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to his feet, wobbling slightly. He had no weapons, no supplies. His clothes—dark and simple—were practical but bore no markings, no hint of where he might have come from. He patted himself down. No bag, no map, no coins. He was completely alone in an unfamiliar wilderness.
He had two choices.
1. Panic and wait for something to find him.
2. Move.
Noah clenched his fists. Waiting meant death. He didn't know why, but he felt it deep in his bones. Whatever had happened to him, whatever had left him here—he couldn't stay still.
So he picked a direction and started walking.
The deeper he moved into the forest, the more unsettling it became. The trees were too silent. The distant chirping had vanished, replaced by a hollow stillness. Every step he took felt watched, like something just beyond his vision was following.
His stomach clenched with unease. He didn't know much, but his instincts screamed that this place was wrong.
He needed food. Water. Shelter.
Noah forced his body into motion, ignoring the gnawing hunger in his gut. His hands brushed against tree bark as he moved, feeling its rough texture, grounding himself in something real. His eyes scanned for anything useful—fruit, nuts, even a pool of drinkable water.
Snap.
Noah froze.
The sound had come from behind him. A branch breaking.
His breath caught in his throat. His heart hammered. Slowly, he turned his head, expecting to see something lurking in the trees.
Nothing.
Only the endless stretch of forest.
His skin prickled. Something was there. He felt it. Watching. Waiting.
He took a step forward—
And the world shifted.
The ground collapsed.
A sharp crack echoed through the air as the forest floor gave way beneath Noah's feet. He barely had time to let out a startled cry before he was falling, tumbling down into darkness.
His body slammed against cold stone, knocking the breath from his lungs. Dust filled the air, choking him. He coughed violently, struggling to push himself up. Pain flared in his ribs, but nothing felt broken.
What the hell just happened?
He glanced upward. The hole he had fallen through was a jagged tear in the earth, sunlight barely filtering through. He must have stepped onto a weak section of ground, covering some sort of underground structure.
Slowly, Noah staggered to his feet, his eyes adjusting to the dimness. The air here was old, thick with the scent of stone and decay. Carvings lined the walls, their inscriptions worn by time. He traced his fingers over them, feeling the grooves—symbols he didn't recognize, yet they felt familiar.
This place was ancient. Forgotten.
And he wasn't alone.
A low, guttural growl rumbled from the shadows ahead.
Noah froze. His pulse pounded as he turned his gaze toward the source of the sound. A pair of glowing amber eyes stared back at him from the darkness.
His breath hitched. The creature lurked just beyond the reach of the dim light, its form obscured. But he could hear its breathing—slow, deliberate. Predatory.
Then, it moved.
A blur of motion, too fast—Noah barely had time to throw himself aside as something massive lunged at him, claws raking through the air where he had just stood. He hit the ground hard, rolling, panic flooding his limbs.
The creature snarled, stepping into the faint glow of the ruined chamber.
It wasn't human.
Towering over him, it was twisted and unnatural—a warped fusion of a wolf and something worse, its flesh stretched too thin over its bones, its limbs elongated and wrong. Shadows clung to it like smoke, writhing and shifting.
Noah's body screamed at him to run.
But there was nowhere to go.
The beast lunged again.
No weapon. No strength. No escape.
His mind raced. Think, damn it!
As the creature closed in, instinct took over. Noah grabbed a broken stone from the ground and threw it with all his strength. It struck the beast's snout, making it recoil with a snarl. Not enough.
The moment of hesitation gave Noah a chance to move. He scrambled backward, desperately searching the chamber for anything—a weapon, an exit, a miracle.
Then he saw it.
A faint blue glow pulsed from beneath a layer of dust—a sigil carved into the stone floor. The same strange symbols that lined the walls.
A ritual circle.
Noah didn't know how he knew, but his gut told him that stepping inside it meant something. A chance. A risk.
The beast lunged a third time.
No time to think.
Noah dived into the sigil.
The instant his body crossed the threshold, the air shuddered. A surge of energy crackled through the chamber, the symbols igniting with blinding light. The beast skidded to a halt, snarling—hesitating.
Noah's vision blurred. His body burned.
And then—
Everything changed.