The weightlessness came first, clinging to Azhaan like an anchorless drift in an endless sea. He was caught in a void, with neither sensation nor sound to tether him. Then came the sudden surge—a rushing torrent of something, a jarring snap as if the universe had seized him and pulled him somewhere else.
His eyes opened abruptly, and he gasped for air as though surfacing from deep water. But what greeted him wasn't Earth or anything remotely familiar.
The meadow sprawled beneath him was a vibrant, otherworldly blue, the grass shimmering like molten moonlight. Above him, the sky bled colors he couldn't name: violet streaked with gold, and hanging in the heavens, two colossal moons glowed faintly, their surfaces etched with intricate, glowing cracks. Around him, tiny motes of light floated lazily through the air, winking in and out like fireflies.
"What…" Azhaan's voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse and trembling. "Where am I?"
He pushed himself up on shaky arms, his palms sinking into the soft, glowing grass. The memories rushed back, fragmented and sharp: the screech of tires, the blinding glare of headlights, the impact that had rattled him to his core. He touched his chest instinctively, expecting pain or bruises, but there was nothing. No wounds, no scars—just the unsettling realization that whatever had happened to him… this wasn't Earth anymore.
"You've crossed over," a voice thundered, deep and resonant, shaking the air itself.
Azhaan froze, his heart pounding in his chest. The voice didn't come from anywhere specific; it was everywhere—above him, beneath him, around him.
"Who's there?" he shouted, his voice cracking. He spun in place, but there was no one. Just the endless meadow and the eerie silence that followed.
"Be calm." The voice reverberated again, commanding yet not unkind. The ground trembled faintly, and the air shimmered as if reality itself was bending. Slowly, a figure emerged from the ether.
Azhaan stumbled backward, his breath catching in his throat. The being before him was colossal, its form cloaked in swirling mist that radiated a faint golden glow. It had no clear shape, constantly shifting between humanoid and something unrecognizable. But its eyes—bright, piercing orbs of light—seemed to see straight through him.
"What… what are you?" Azhaan stammered.
The figure tilted its head, the motion almost curious. "I am a guide. A messenger of sorts." Its voice was calm now, almost soothing, though it still carried an immense weight. "And you, Azhaan, have been chosen."
"Chosen?" Azhaan's voice wavered, caught between disbelief and fear. "Chosen for what? And how do you know my name?"
"I know many things," the figure said cryptically. "Your life, your death, your potential. You are an anomaly, Azhaan—a ripple in the currents of fate. And now, you stand at the threshold of Aetheris."
"Aetheris?" Azhaan echoed, the word foreign and strange on his tongue. "What is this place?"
"It is a world where the bond between man and beast shapes destiny itself," the figure explained, its tone patient yet commanding. "Tamers walk this land, forging connections with creatures of immense power. These bonds determine the fate of this realm."
Azhaan's brow furrowed, a mixture of confusion and frustration bubbling to the surface. "And you think I'm supposed to be one of these… tamers?" He gestured vaguely at the shimmering meadow. "I'm just a college student! I don't belong here!"
The figure's eyes seemed to glow brighter, and Azhaan felt a sudden pressure settle over him. "Fate does not ask for permission," it said. "You are here because you were meant to be. The question is not whether you belong, but whether you will rise to the challenge before you."
Azhaan opened his mouth to argue but found himself at a loss for words. The weight of the figure's gaze pinned him in place, its intensity forcing him to confront the reality of his situation. He had died—he remembered that much. Whatever this was, it wasn't a dream.
"Why me?" he finally asked, his voice soft. "Why not someone else?"
"You are… different," the figure replied after a pause, its tone carrying a strange mix of curiosity and certainty. "Your bonds will not follow the rules of this world. They will be strange, unpredictable, and powerful. You will face challenges that others cannot fathom. And in doing so, you will shape the course of Aetheris itself."
Azhaan swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. The figure's words were cryptic, yet there was an undeniable weight to them. He didn't understand everything it was saying, but one thing was clear: he was no longer in control of his own fate.
"And if I say no?" he asked cautiously.
The figure's eyes flared, and the golden mist around it began to swirl violently. "Then you will remain here, adrift in the void, until eternity forgets you."
Azhaan's stomach twisted. That didn't sound like much of a choice.
"Fine," he said, his voice trembling but resolute. "I'll do it. Whatever this is—whatever you need me to do—I'll figure it out."
The figure extended what could only be described as a hand, its shape shifting fluidly as it reached toward him. A pulse of light shot forth, enveloping Azhaan in a blinding glow.
"Then go forth, Azhaan," the figure intoned, its voice echoing through the void. "Your path begins now. Prove yourself worthy."
The light grew brighter and brighter until it consumed everything. Azhaan felt a sudden rush of air, the weightlessness replaced by a sharp, jarring impact.
He landed hard on his back, the breath knocked from his lungs. Groaning, he sat up, blinking against the sudden onslaught of light and sound.
Around him was a bustling town square, unlike anything he'd ever seen. Towering wooden buildings etched with glowing runes lined cobblestone streets that wound upward toward a massive spire in the distance. The air was filled with the hum of activity: merchants shouting, adventurers laughing, and the occasional roar of something distinctly non-human.
Azhaan stared, wide-eyed, as a child ran past him, chasing a bird-like creature with feathers that shimmered like molten gold. Nearby, a hulking beast with crystalline horns pulled a cart piled high with glowing crystals.
"Welcome to Ashenfield," someone called out, snapping him from his daze.
Azhaan turned toward the voice, his heart racing with equal parts fear and anticipation.