Ren Solas was still asleep that morning, tucked beneath his warm blanket, breathing softly in the comfort of childhood dreams. The golden light of dawn crept through the curtains, casting faint patterns on the walls. His door creaked open.
Wren, his older sister, stepped inside on quiet feet. She approached the bed with a practiced gentleness, her voice barely a whisper.
"Wake up, Ren. It's time for school."
He didn't stir.
She sighed—half amused, half resigned—and grabbed him by the shoulders. With a grunt of effort, she hauled him up, half-dragging the sleepy boy toward the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, Ren finally stumbled into the dining room, rubbing his eyes and yawning. The smell of toasted bread and fried eggs greeted him. His father sat at the table, sipping tea, while his mother placed a warm plate before the sleepy child.
Without a word, she handed him a glass of milk, gently patting his hair with a fond smile.
Ren smiled back, still too drowsy for words, and began eating in silence.
Once the meal was finished, his father rose, grabbed his worn leather bag, and with a short wave, left for work. Ren trudged back to his room, changing slowly into his neatly pressed school uniform.
As he zipped up his bag, his gaze fell upon a small drawer left ajar.
Inside, nestled among old stationery and clutter, lay a tiny emergency knife.
He grinned mischievously.
One by one, he began slipping odd items into his bag: the knife, a box of matches, a flashlight, two candies, and a handful of glass marbles—his secret arsenal, just in case the world ever needed saving.
Just as he stepped outside, Wren stood waiting on the porch, tying her hair with a ribbon. She looked up and smiled brightly.
"I got my salary today!" she called. "Come home straight after school—we'll go buy you some new toys."
Ren's face lit up. "Really?!"
She nodded, laughing softly at his excitement.
He beamed, jumped once in the air, and sprinted down the road toward school, waving behind him.
He never looked back.
It would be the last time he ever heard his sister's voice.
The day unfolded like any other. Morning classes passed, lunch was noisy, and soon it was time for Physical Education. Ren lingered in the changing room longer than the others, tying his shoelaces lazily.
He had just zipped his bag shut when he heard something.
A voice.
Whispers—low and unearthly—echoing inside his head. He froze.
Words he didn't understand, chanted in a language that didn't belong to this world, filled his ears. He looked around wildly. The room was empty.
"W-What is that…?" he whispered.
The whispers grew louder, circling him like a storm. A sharp light spread from his fingertips.
He stared in horror as his skin began to glow—softly at first, then brighter, until his hands shimmered like fireflies in the dark.
Panic seized him.
He bolted from the room, stumbling into the hallway, his breath ragged and shallow. With each step, his glow intensified. The world blurred around him. His heart pounded like a drum.
Then—
A flash.
White light consumed him.
And Ren Solas vanished.
When students and teachers rushed toward the sound, they found nothing.
No light. No boy. No sign.
Only silence.
Ren opened his eyes slowly.
The warmth of his school uniform was gone. His back ached. He lay on damp stone in a narrow alley, walls rising high on either side like prison gates. Above him, the sky was not blue—it was purple, murky, and strange.
He sat up, dazed.
"Where... where am I?"
Ahead, a hooded figure slumped against the wall.
A woman, silent and still.
Ren approached hesitantly. "Ma'am? Are you okay? What is this place?"
No reply.
He reached out and touched her shoulder.
She fell forward.
A swarm of glistening black insects erupted from beneath her cloak, spilling onto the ground, scurrying over his shoes.
Ren screamed.
He turned and ran, blind with fear, through the twisting maze of alleys. His feet pounded against stone, his breath came in gasps. He ran until his lungs burned.
Then—light.
A wide street opened before him.
Carriages rolled past. Horses trotted lazily. People—human and otherwise—walked by as if nothing was wrong. Dwarves, elves, beastfolk in armor and cloaks—all speaking strange dialects, buying food, bartering, laughing.
He stepped into the road, stunned.
Someone shoved him. He fell hard to the cobblestones.
As he sat up, dazed, an old woman bent toward him.
"You look lost, child," she said kindly. Her face was lined with age, her eyes warm. "Where are your parents?"
Ren blinked back tears. "I… I don't know where I am. I just want to go home."
She offered him a hand. "Come with me. We'll get you something warm to eat. We'll find someone who can help."
Desperate, Ren followed.
The woman's home was a fragile wooden shack nestled between stone buildings. Inside, she offered a bowl of stew and a wool blanket.
"There's a friend of mine," she said as he ate. "He knows people. Important people. He might be able to help you get back to your family."
Ren's eyes lit up. "Really?"
She smiled. "We'll visit him tonight."
The tavern was dark, smoky, and alive with noise. Drunken laughter rang out. Men gambled, women danced, and fists occasionally flew.
The old woman guided Ren through the chaos to a back room behind the bar.
A man sat waiting.
Scarred, broad-shouldered, draped in tattoos, he sat on a low couch like a king of shadows. Beside him stood a tall, silent woman in black leather armor, her eyes cold and watchful.
"This is the boy," the old woman said, settling into a chair.
The man turned to his companion. "Inspect him."
The woman stepped forward. Her hands were rough, clinical. She checked his eyes, his teeth, his arms. Ren squirmed in confusion.
"Healthy," she said. "Good quality."
The boy looked at the old woman. "What's going on?"
She rose from her chair with a smirk and took a jingling pouch of gold from the man.
"You've been sold, kid," she said, voice flat. "They'll take good care of you now."
Ren stood, stunned. "W-What…?"
He turned to run—but the woman grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
Chains rattled.
Cold iron closed around his wrists.
The man stepped forward, voice like gravel. "Name's Skarith. I trade in people. She's Keva. She breaks the new ones."
Keva yanked him by the chains, dragging him across the stone floor like a sack of grain. She opened a door and hurled him inside.
Darkness.
The door slammed shut. The lock clicked.
Ren cried out, fists pounding on the walls. He screamed for help until his throat ached, until his voice broke.
No one came.
Alone, chained in a cold, lightless room, Ren curled into a corner, his tears soaking into the filthy floor.
This has to be a nightmare, he thought. Please… let me wake up.