Revik gasped his first breath in what felt like an eternity.
It burned.
Not with the familiar fire of Aether, not with the overwhelming energy of sacrifice—this was something else.
Something raw. The air was thick, and heavy with the scent of damp earth and something acrid, something wrong.
His vision blurred, his body foreign. Every nerve screamed in confusion.
He was lying on his back, the ground beneath him rough and unsteady. Dirt clung to his skin, his limbs weak, and trembling. But something else pressed at the edges of his senses.
Screams.
Not battle cries, not the clash of steel, not the roar of war. These were desperate, filled with terror, pleading for salvation that would never come.
His instincts flared. He moved to push himself up, to assess, to fight—
But the moment his hand touched his forehead, he froze.
It was smooth. Soft.
His breath caught. His hands had been calloused, roughened by years of training, scarred by countless battles.
But these fingers were untouched by war. His chest tightened. His muscles had been strong, his body tempered through endless conflict. But now—
He forced himself to move, rolling onto his side. His limbs felt wrong, smaller, weaker. He pressed his palms against the ground, pushing himself up—
And immediately collapsed again, landing hard beside a puddle.
His pulse pounded in his ears. Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his head.
The water was murky, disturbed by his fall, but the reflection that stared back at him was not his own.
A younger face.
Wide, unfamiliar eyes.
Lips parted in shock, in fear, in disbelief.
This wasn't him.
He wasn't in his own body.
His breathing quickened, his heart a hammer against his ribs. His mind fought against reality, screaming at him to wake up, to return to the battlefield, to fix this.
Then the ground shook.
A monstrous shriek split the air, reverberating through his bones. The earth trembled beneath him, and the sky seemed to shrink away from the horror that followed.
Revik turned.
And he saw it.
It stood at the village's edge, a towering abomination of gnarled flesh and writhing shadows. Its limbs twisted and elongated into jagged talons.
Its maw was split wide, a grotesque wound lined with serrated teeth, dripping with something black and steaming.
It wasn't just hunting.
It was feeding.
The villagers fled in every direction, but some—some didn't run.
An old man clutched his wife, whispering frantic prayers. A mother shielded her child, pressing her face into the dirt. Others stood, frozen in silent resignation.
And then, as if the gods themselves had cursed him—
The creature's gaze locked onto him.
Revik stiffened. His heart slammed against his ribs as the monster let out another piercing shriek—
And lunged.
His body moved before thought could catch up. He turned and ran, his feet barely finding purchase on the uneven ground.
The air behind him distorted, the beast crashing through wooden stalls and stone structures as it pursued him.
His mind raced. His body was different, untrained. He had no weapons, no Aether, no power—nothing but this frail new form and the instincts buried deep within him.
The forest.
It was his only chance.
He pushed forward, weaving through scattered debris, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The villagers watched him go, and—
Some of them sighed in relief.
They weren't going to help him.
They weren't screaming for him to run faster.
They were grateful it was chasing him instead of them.
A sickness curled in his stomach, fury bubbling beneath the terror. But he had no time for anger.
The treeline loomed ahead. If he could just make it—
A deafening crack erupted behind him. He twisted, just in time to see the monster leap—
And then, darkness swallowed him whole.