Darius floated in an endless sea of darkness. At first, he thought he was still in that study, lying on the cold floor while Ferric and his robed mages watched him die. Yet he felt no pain. His muscles did not spasm with the lingering electricity. Instead, his mind drifted without anchor, slipping in and out of awareness like a leaf in the tide.
He tried to speak. Nothing emerged but a silent thought.
"I should be dead."
Slowly, a faint glimmer appeared in the blackness, a single pinprick of silver light. It pulsed in time with something that might have been his heartbeat. He reached for it, though he had no sense of arms or legs. The light grew and flickered with an almost fragile intensity, and a new realization sank in: he was not in his body.
A voice, cold and distant, echoed through the void.
"Your time is not yet over."
He wanted to demand answers but managed only a mental whisper.
"Where am I?"
The space around him brightened. A swirl of pale colors rippled across a vast emptiness. It reminded him of oil on water, shimmering and fluid. Another voice, softer but urgent, whispered just beyond his senses.
"This soul is damaged. Stabilizing it now."
Darius tried to focus on that source.
"Who's there?"
A low hum reverberated through the darkness, and for an instant, he thought he saw faint silhouettes: robed figures different from Ferric's mages. They were transparent and faceless, as if carved from moonlight. One reached out an ethereal hand.
He felt a sudden pull—like being yanked through a narrow passage—and pressure built in his chest. Then, in a shattering burst of light, he inhaled sharply as if he had been underwater for too long.
A harsh gasp escaped his lips. He coughed, rolling onto his side, feeling rough ground under his fingers. A chill wind grazed the back of his neck, carrying the scent of wet earth. He forced his eyes open. Darkness surrounded him, but it was a different sort of darkness than the void he had just experienced. This was a real night sky, with distant stars partially hidden by shifting clouds.
He pushed himself to a kneeling position. His body felt intact. No sign of the burns or cuts from that black lightning. His clothes, though, were a tattered mess, and the battered dagger still hung from his belt.
He spat out a shaky breath and lifted his gaze to take in the surroundings. He appeared to be in a wide plain, dotted with waist-high grasses waving in the breeze. Mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks faintly outlined by moonlight.
He spoke to himself in a hushed tone.
"This can't be Blackstone."
A flicker of movement caught his eye. Darius spun, heart pounding, only to see a small glowing orb the size of a marble drifting toward him. Its pale light pulsed gently, casting a subtle reflection against the grass. He tensed, half expecting another trick.
The orb hovered at eye level.
"Welcome to the Outer Plains of Helia."
He stared, uncertain if he had actually heard words or imagined them.
"Who's speaking to me?"
The orb brightened, then projected a faint shimmer of text into the air.
[You have been granted provisional access. Prepare for a mandatory assessment.]
He swallowed. This was unlike any magic he had known.
"What assessment?"
The orb dimmed.
[Assessment begins in five seconds. Remain still.]
He stayed rooted in place, scanning for threats in every direction. No robed figures, no flicker of dark magic. Just the whispering grass and the heavy night air. An odd pressure filled his ears, then a sharp ring.
[Assessment complete. Category: Mortal Remnant. Score: Undetermined.]
A grimace crossed his face.
"Mortal Remnant? What does that mean?"
The orb flitted closer, as if studying him.
[Clarification: You have arrived in an unstable condition. Your soul was nearly destroyed. Your latent abilities will be determined through trial.]
He ran a hand through his hair, still trying to make sense of the situation.
"So I survived Ferric's ambush, but ended up... here. Is this some afterlife? Or another world?"
The orb offered a single pulse of light, then displayed more text.
[You must reach the nearest safe zone to continue integration. Nearest safe zone: Hearthpoint Village, approximately five miles west.]
His assassin instincts flared. This orb, or whatever force controlled it, seemed more like a system guiding him than any typical magic. The name "Hearthpoint Village" meant nothing to him, yet it might be the only lead he had.
"I don't trust you, but I have nowhere else to go."
He rose to his feet, checking the dagger strapped to his belt. The wind rustled his coat, and the open field offered no immediate cover. He paused, casting a long look at the orb.
"If this is a trap, I swear I'll..."
The orb flashed twice.
[Follow the path of luminescence. No hostiles detected within one mile.]
Before he could respond, it drifted west, leaving a faint trail of glimmering sparks behind. He sighed, recalling how any chance of returning to Blackstone City might be slim. Ferric undoubtedly believed him dead, and so would any of his underworld contacts.
He trudged after the orb, muttering to himself.
"What am I walking into?"
As he moved, the grass gave way to patches of rocky soil. A scattering of pale-blue flowers glowed under the moon, their petals reminiscent of stained glass. He paused for a moment, mesmerized by their gentle luminosity.
He touched one petal lightly and wondered if he was truly in a new world. Everything felt real: the chill in the air, the scent of wildflowers, the faint ache in his limbs from that earlier spell. No dream had ever been this vivid.
He continued until the gentle slope leveled out. In the distance, he spotted dim lights flickering behind rolling hills. The orb spun around him once, then started upward, as if guiding him in a straight line to that faint glow.
He pressed his lips together.
"So that's Hearthpoint Village."
His foot caught a slight depression in the ground, and he stumbled, cursing softly. He missed the sure footing of city rooftops and the cobblestone streets he had known for years. But hesitation would get him nowhere, so he forced himself onward.
Soon, an actual path emerged from the wilderness. He glimpsed a cluster of small homes with thatched roofs and wooden fences. Flickers of lanterns revealed a dirt road, and the low murmur of voices drifted through the air.
He slowed his pace, dagger in hand.
"Better not let them see a battered stranger strolling in with a weapon."
He reached the outskirts of the village, stepping carefully behind a storage shed. He kept to the shadows, memories of infiltration routines guiding him on instinct. At last, he crouched beside a low fence where he could observe an open plaza. It was modest, with a stone well at the center and a few stalls that seemed abandoned for the night.
A single guard leaned against a wooden post near the entrance of what looked like a small tavern. The man wore no armor beyond a thick leather vest. He yawned, rubbing tired eyes.
Darius waited, scanning the area for any sign of a threat. The orb's glow faintly bobbed above a nearby rooftop, as if urging him forward. He clenched his jaw. Even if he passed this guard unseen, what then? He knew nothing of the local customs or currency.
He whispered, trying to steady his thoughts.
"Could I ask for help? Or is that too risky?"
The orb drifted lower, settling in the space between two houses. Another line of text shimmered for a moment before vanishing too quickly to read. Darius frowned. He had to make a decision.
He rose and approached the guard.
"Excuse me."
The guard tensed, hand twitching near a short blade.
"You came out of nowhere. Who are you?"
Darius swallowed, deciding on partial truth.
"Name's Darius. I... woke up outside the village. I was attacked. I need help."
A flicker of concern crossed the guard's face.
"This isn't exactly a place for travelers at this hour. Were you on the road from Helia's Gate?"
He shook his head, playing ignorant.
"I'm not sure. It's all a blur."
The guard studied him, taking in the torn clothes and exhausted eyes.
"You look half-dead. The inn's that way, but pay in coin, no bartering. If you try any tricks, we'll throw you out."
Darius nodded.
"I just need to rest."
The guard jerked a thumb toward the tavern.
"Name's Arok. If you need anything, that's where folks gather. Don't cause trouble."
Darius noted the absence of the orb. It had drifted away, possibly satisfied he'd reached the village.
"Thank you, Arok."
He stepped past the guard, thoughts churning. The place had the vibe of an old country settlement, with lanterns flickering against rough wooden walls. A faint melody drifted from inside the tavern: low pipes and a soft drum.
He pushed open the door, greeted by a rush of warmth and the smell of ale and roasted meat. The room was small, occupied by only a handful of patrons who sipped drinks in weary silence. A tall woman behind the counter glanced over, unimpressed.
Her voice carried a guarded tone.
"Late arrival, huh? You paying or just looking?"
He approached, removing his hood.
"Paying, if you'll have me."
She eyed his ragged clothes with a critical stare.
"We've got one room left upstairs. It isn't cheap."
He patted his belt pouch. He had a few coins from Blackstone, though he doubted they'd be recognized here. He laid three silver pieces on the counter. The woman's gaze softened, perhaps deciding that silver in any form was acceptable enough.
She snatched up the coins.
"Welcome to the Coiled Serpent Inn. I'm Freya. Don't pick fights and you'll sleep soundly."
He offered a faint nod and turned toward the wooden staircase at the back. As he climbed, he felt the day's exhaustion tug at his limbs. That clash in Ferric's study still lingered in his mind, replaying in flashes. The memory of black lightning made his pulse spike.
When he reached the small room, he closed the door behind him, setting the dagger within arm's reach on a rickety bedside table. The bed looked lumpy, but any rest was better than none. He sank onto the mattress, letting out a breath that carried the weight of a life turned upside down.
His last coherent thought before sleep took him was a silent vow.
"I need answers, and somehow, I'll find a way back."
He drifted into an uneasy sleep, unaware that the orb watched from afar, patiently waiting to deliver the next message.