Xyro woke up to the sound of chains.

It wasn't a harsh, rattling noise. It was softer, slower. Like metal links brushing together with each breath of air. It sounded too close—like it belonged to him.

Where am I?

The question barely formed in his sluggish mind before a wave of nausea hit him. He inhaled sharply, trying to steady himself, but his breath caught.

The air here was... wrong.

Thick. Heavy. It carried an unfamiliar weight, something sharp hidden beneath the silence.

His fingers twitched against the ground beneath him. It was rough, cold, and damp. Stone? His sense of touch was hazy, but he could feel small cracks, tiny edges—like the surface of something old, something untouched for centuries.

He forced his eyes open.

Darkness.

A deep, consuming blackness stretched in every direction, endless and absolute. It wasn't just the absence of light—it felt like there was nothing beyond this place. No walls. No sky. No sound except the slow, shifting chains.

His chains.

That realization jolted him. Xyro lifted his arm, and the metal around his wrist bit into his skin. His fingers wrapped around it instinctively, tracing the cold steel. Thick. Secure. Meant to hold.

He exhaled through clenched teeth.

This wasn't right.

A faint pressure settled at the back of his skull—a whisper of a memory, something important just beyond his reach. But when he tried to grasp it, it slipped away like mist.

Who am I?

No. That part, he knew.

Xyro.

The name felt real. It settled into his mind with an undeniable certainty, anchoring him for a brief moment.

But beyond that?

Nothing.

No memories. No past. No reason for him to be here.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears. He could feel panic clawing at the edges of his mind, demanding he do something—run, fight, escape. But there was nowhere to run.

Then—

A sound.

It was soft at first, barely distinguishable from the eerie silence around him. But it grew louder, closer.

Drip.

A slow, rhythmic drop of water echoing through the void.

Drip.

A shiver ran down his spine.

There was no water here.

Then what was making that noise?

Xyro's breath came faster. His body was waking up now, adrenaline pushing through the sluggishness. He needed to move. He needed to see.

His muscles screamed as he forced himself upright. His legs felt weak, unsteady, but he ignored the discomfort. He had to get his bearings.

The darkness remained unchanged. No shadows. No depth. Just nothingness.

But then—

A flicker.

A distant red glow blinked into existence high above him.

Xyro froze.

It wasn't a light. It was an eye.

Watching.

His stomach twisted. He could feel its gaze digging into him, calculating, waiting.

The chains around his wrists tightened.

Then—

"Welcome back, Xyro."

His breath stalled. The voice was calm, unnervingly smooth. It didn't echo in the space around him—it sank into his bones.

The ground beneath him vanished.

And he fell.

Down.. no surface

There was no wind.

No rushing air, no sensation of movement—only the sickening weightlessness of a fall with no end.

Xyro's heartbeat pounded in his ears as he twisted midair, trying to see, trying to grasp onto something—anything. But there was nothing. Just an endless, crushing void.

Panic swelled in his chest.

This isn't real.

He clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus. But how could he, when there was nothing to focus on?

Then—

Something shifted.

It was subtle, like the space around him had suddenly changed its mind about being empty.

Then the darkness shattered.

A flash of blinding gold exploded below him.

Xyro barely had time to process it before he hit the ground.

Hard.

He gasped, body jolting violently—but instead of breaking, he simply... stopped.

No pain. No bruises. Just the sudden shock of being somewhere else.

His fingers dug into the surface beneath him.

Warm. Soft. Moving.

Sand.

His breathing slowed as his senses adjusted. The air was thick and dry now, carrying a faint scent of something burnt.

Xyro lifted his head.

A sky stretched above him, vast and unnatural. The clouds churned in slow spirals of red and black, like fire-smoke trapped in an endless loop.

The sand beneath him was the color of gold but shifted like liquid with every movement. It felt alive.

Xyro's pulse drummed against his ribs.

Where the hell am I?

Then, he noticed something.

Just a few feet away, half-buried in the sand...

A person.

Xyro tensed.

It was a woman. Or at least, she looked like one.

Her body was limp, her dark hair spilling over the shifting sand like ink. She wore strange clothing—not quite royal, but not common either. There was something dangerous about her presence.

Xyro stared for a long moment, his muscles coiled and ready. He didn't trust this.

But then—

Her fingers twitched.

And slowly, her eyes opened.

They were sharp, golden, and far too knowing.

Her gaze met his, and in that single moment, Xyro understood one thing.

She wasn't confused. She wasn't afraid.

She knew exactly where she was.

And that terrified him more than anything.

Should I ask her.. about where I am.. about who I am..