The morning sun pierced through the thick mist that wrapped the peaks of Kamar-Taj like a veil. Its golden rays scattered across the temple's ancient stone walls, illuminating patches of moss and lichen that had silently witnessed centuries of whispered secrets.
Eli woke in the small room assigned to him, the scent of sandalwood lingering faintly in the air. The rough canvas of the blanket was coarse against his skin, but he barely noticed. His mind was already stirring — not with childish dreams, but with quiet questions he dared not voice aloud.
Around him, the monastery hummed with life. Distant footsteps echoed down stone halls. The rhythmic chants of the monks rose and fell like waves, a living symphony of devotion and discipline. But for Eli, the noise was more than just sound. It was a backdrop — a steady heartbeat — to which his restless soul constantly measured itself.
He sat on the edge of his cot, eyes tracing the worn wooden beams overhead. The room was simple — a small altar with incense, a stack of scrolls, and a cracked ceramic bowl for water. But it was enough.
Eli's days were filled with rigorous training — not the kind that involved weapons or battle, but something more subtle and complex.
The monks believed that before a student could master the forces that surrounded and sustained life, they must first master themselves.
"Focus, Eli," Master Raghav's voice cut through the quiet hall.
The elder monk was tall and lean, with eyes that had seen far beyond the physical realm. His beard was long and white, flowing like a waterfall of time. He stood by the ancient bell, which resonated with every strike, vibrating in the bones and heart.
"Calm your mind. The energy is not outside you. It lives within."
Eli sat cross-legged on the floor, palms resting lightly on his knees. The cold stone seeped through his clothes, but he ignored it.
He closed his eyes and tried to still the thoughts that rushed through his mind like a wild river.
But the river would not calm.
Who am I? The question burned deeper than any flame.
He remembered fragments — shadows of faces and places he could not place. A city that glittered with lights not of this world. Voices calling his name in languages both strange and familiar.
Why was he here? Why had no one come for him? Why was he so alone?
The other children in the monastery were kind enough, but they kept their distance. Eli was different. Not just because of his power, but because of the quiet shadow that seemed to cling to him.
He was an orphan. A mystery.
And mystery bred isolation.
Days passed in a steady rhythm. Training sessions, lessons in the history of the monks and their sacred duties, silent meditation, and sometimes — rare and precious moments — he was allowed to read.
The scrolls were filled with ancient knowledge — spells, rituals, histories of worlds beyond counting.
Yet even here, Eli felt his mind stretching beyond the pages.
He dreamed of machines that moved without hands, of cities that soared into the sky, of battles fought not with swords, but with light and sound.
One afternoon, as the sun dipped low, casting long shadows through the temple courtyard, Eli sat beside the small koi pond. The water was still, reflecting the crimson and gold of the dying day.
Master Raghav joined him quietly.
"You seek answers," the elder said softly.
Eli nodded, eyes fixed on the water's surface.
"Your path is unlike any I have seen before," Raghav continued. "You carry knowledge that does not belong to this place, to this time. The memories you have are pieces of a puzzle — fragments of other lives, other worlds."
Eli swallowed hard. "Why me?"
Raghav smiled faintly, as if carrying the weight of all time on his shoulders.
"Because you are not simply a child of this world, Eli. You are a traveler… a bridge between what is and what could be."
That night, Eli lay awake under the thin blanket. The distant storm rumbled, shaking the temple walls.
He closed his eyes and reached deep into the silence within.
He tried to grasp the spark he had felt months ago — the flicker of light that danced in his palm without his control.
Suddenly, the room seemed to dissolve.
He found himself floating above the monastery, looking down.
Below, the monks moved in slow motion. Their lips formed silent words.
Then the world shifted again.
Eli was no longer alone.
Figures appeared around him — shadows at first, then clearer shapes. A man with a glowing hammer. A woman with eyes like molten silver. A figure cloaked in red and blue, spinning through the air.
They called to him — not with words, but with feelings.
Hope. Fear. Power.
Eli reached out, and the shadows faded.
He was left in darkness, breath heavy, heart pounding.
When he opened his eyes, the room was still.
But Eli knew, deep within, that his journey was no longer his own.
The multiverse had begun to stir.