The darkness consumed everything. There was no ground beneath him, no sky above—only an endless void that pulled at his very essence. His breath was shallow, his body weightless, as if he were sinking into something unseen.
Then, a pulse.
A surge of energy crackled through the void, and suddenly, he was no longer falling. Instead, he stood upon a vast expanse of black stone, illuminated only by the dim glow of ethereal flames flickering in the distance. Shadows twisted and coiled around him, forming vague figures—whispers of the past, memories long buried.
His instincts screamed at him to move, to escape, but his legs refused to obey. Something was holding him in place.
Then, from the darkness, it emerged.
A monstrous figure, clad in ancient armor, its face obscured by a jagged helm. Its eyes burned like dying embers, hollow yet filled with an unbearable weight of history. A massive blade rested in its grip, its surface cracked, pulsing with a power both familiar and terrifying.
"You have forgotten."
The voice was not just heard—it resonated within him, shaking the very core of his being. His breath hitched as memories flashed before his eyes. The scent of rain-soaked earth, the clash of steel, the echo of a name he could not remember.
"Who… am I?" he whispered, his voice barely audible against the oppressive silence.
The armored figure raised its blade.
Without thinking, he moved. His body acted before his mind could process the motion, instincts buried deep within him taking control. He barely dodged the downward strike as the ground beneath him shattered, cracks spreading like veins of fire.
A second swing came, and this time, he countered. His palm met the flat of the blade, redirecting its force as he twisted his body. Energy surged through him, a power raw and untamed, responding to his desperation.
The figure did not falter. It advanced again, relentless and unyielding, each movement precise, each strike carrying the weight of centuries.
Then, the whispers returned.
"The heir who was forsaken… The bloodline that was erased… You are more than you believe."
Something within him snapped.
A surge of memories—not clear, but fragments—rushed back. A figure standing before him, their hand on his shoulder. A promise made beneath a crimson sky. A symbol, glowing upon his skin, now flickering to life once more.
His body moved differently now. His strikes were sharper, his footing surer. He was not just fighting to survive. He was reclaiming something that had been stolen from him.
With a final, determined breath, he launched forward. His fist connected with the armored figure's chest, and for the first time, it staggered.
The whispers roared.
The darkness cracked.
And then, light.
He gasped as his body was pulled from the abyss, the echoes of battle fading into silence. The ground beneath him was solid once more, the mist swirling lazily around him.
But something was different now.
His heartbeat was steady. His breath came easier.
And on his arm, the mark of his lineage pulsed with newfound clarity.
He was not just a wanderer.
He was a forgotten heir.
And the world was about to remember him.