It felt like a jolt of lightning — a thorn which had pierced into his center, taking claim and burrowing in his skin. His eyes shot open, a slight tear beginning to form in his eye.
The more his vision drifted downwards, the more he began to panic. A color of dark moss rooted itself outward — looking as if it were a system of veins beneath his skin. At its center, chunks of flesh separated and split asunder, leaving only exposed tendrils of his guts to the open air.
He had awoken with a dagger in his chest.
He tried to call out for help, though it was too late; Blood already clogging his throat and spilling from his mouth.
All he could get out was a pathetic cry. The helpless gaggle for a fading breath. He didn't even have the energy left to close his eyes for one final time.
And yet, just like that, he was gone. From the bed he lay, not even a moment had passed and he somehow managed to disappear as though he never existed at all.
The boy, however, was very much still alive.
From the cold, dark ceiling which he was certain would be his final view, he was greeted with the fresh breeze of autumn air and the oppressive yet gleeful sun billowing its glow upon his cheek.
Hastily did his arms reach for his chest, trying to grip the blade and remove it from his person, though much to his surprise, there was nothing there.
There was no wound. There was no blood. The only evidence of what had happened was the tears still swelled up in his eyes.
Slowly did he lift his back from the ground, clenching his own forehead in undisputable displeasure. His mind was assaulted with memories of which weren't his own — jumbling together as if a puzzle he needed to try and decipher. There was no coherent order to anything: Only thoughts and scattered fragments laid out on a broken platter.
Still sitting, he took only a brief moment to assess his... predicament.
The towering trees of spruce and pine that surrounded the almost comically large platform of which he lay upon. Engraved into its stone surface was that of intricate patterns he failed to understand. Albeit, he didn't even try to understand. In his mind, there was much more pressing concerns to worry about.
The platform was circular in shape, sitting nearly two meters off from the forest floor. To mention the forest would also be to mention its scale. In this case, 'the middle of nowhere' was a severe understatement.
He was truly and completely isolated.
"What the hell is happening..." He muttered, a slight seeth squeezing out from between his clenched teeth, "Where the hell... am I?"
It was the sudden gasp from behind him that made his eyes widen.
Never before had he turned his head with such speed, eyes taking the full length to process what he was seeing.
A young girl, looking to be around the same age as him, slowly and steadily began to raise her body from the ground. Her hair was a rather long and refined black, and eyes a shimmering red. She wore what appeared to be a dull-grey samue, along with a single white flower tied in her hair.
Quickly, he turned his body to the side, shuffling away from the mysterious girl. As soon as she spotted him, she didn't waste any time in doing the exact same with a quiver in her voice.
She reached towards her chest, as if — similar to the boy — trying to reach for the knife or dampen a fictitious form of pain. Perhaps both.
"W-Who are you!?" She yelled, voice giving a lengthy echo as it bounced through the labyrinth of trees surrounding them. Birds that had found themselves resting on the nearby branches suddenly took flight, their disturbing caws acting as a depressing silence-breaker between the two.
Only then did it manage to click in the boy's mind. Still with countless thoughts and questions snaking through his gut, his eyes began to drift to the girl's clenched hand.
In his mind, only one conclusion became evident; She was like him.