Ryan's world was darkness. No, not darkness – nothingness. A void devoid of sensation, emotion, or thought.
And then, suddenly, there was something.
A spark. A flicker. A sense of being.
Ryan's consciousness coalesced, his mind reassembling like shattered glass reforming into a cohesive whole. Memories flooded back, disjointed and unclear, but unmistakably his own.
He recalled his life on Earth, his family, his friends, his job. But something was off. The memories felt distant, as if they belonged to someone else.
Ryan's gaze fluttered open, and he found himself in an unfamiliar room. The ceiling was made of dark wood, and the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes of forests, mountains, and mythical creatures.
A figure sat beside his bed, watching him with an intense gaze. Ryan's heart skipped a beat as he took in the stranger's appearance. The man had piercing blue eyes, jet-black hair, and skin with a subtle, golden undertone.
"Who...who are you?" Ryan stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
The stranger's expression softened. "You don't remember, do you? You are Prince Arin, the last heir of the Eldrid dynasty. You have been reborn, Prince Arin. Reborn into a new world, with a new destiny."
Ryan's mind reeled as the stranger's words echoed in his thoughts. Prince Arin? Eldrid dynasty? Reborn?
What did it all mean?
And then, like a key turning in a lock, Ryan's memories shifted. New recollections flooded his mind, memories of a life he had never known.
He remembered being Prince Arin, standing atop the battlements of Eldrador, fighting against the dark alliance. He remembered Lyraea's words, her promise that the Arcane Blade would rise again.
Ryan's gaze locked onto the stranger's. "What do you want from me?" he asked, his voice firm, his heart pounding with excitement and trepidation.
The stranger smiled. "I want to help you reclaim your throne, Prince Arin. And unlock the secrets of the Arcane Blade."