Salvus walked along an empty road, the kind of street where even the wind seemed hesitant to pass. The sky above was painted with shades of deep orange and purple as the sun dipped behind distant hills, casting long shadows that stretched like dark fingers across the cobblestones. He moved with a slow, almost mechanical pace, his black wavy hair slightly mussed by the evening breeze. His tall frame leaned slightly forward, as if carrying an invisible weight on his shoulders, yet his dark eyes scanned the horizon with a mix of curiosity and quiet apprehension.
He had no clear destination, only the instinctive pull of movement, as though walking might somehow answer the unspoken questions in his mind. The air smelled faintly of smoke and earth, a scent both foreign and oddly comforting. The village behind him was quiet, its lanterns flickering dimly, and the occasional hoot of an owl echoed from the surrounding trees.
Without warning, a sensation brushed across his arm—warm, deliberate, and impossibly gentle. Before he could react, a hand grasped his own. The touch was firm yet caring, sending a strange surge of electricity crawling up his arm. It wasn't painful, not quite; it was more like the sudden awareness of something greater stirring inside him. His heart jumped. He looked around, but there was no one else on the road, just the fading light and the soft hum of the evening.
The hand didn't let go. Instead, it seemed to anchor him to the ground, to the moment itself. He felt the warmth spreading from his chest through his veins, a pulsing energy that he could neither name nor fully understand. His knees buckled as a wave of dizziness overtook him, and the world tilted sharply. Stars—real or imagined—flashed behind his eyelids. A voice, faint and fragmented, whispered in the edges of his consciousness:
"…enough…"
"…so long…"
"…now it's you…"
Salvus tried to focus, to respond, but darkness rushed over him like a tide. His mind emptied of thought, leaving only the sensation of energy coursing through his body, small sparks dancing like lightning beneath his skin. His breathing became shallow, irregular. And then—nothing. Silence, save for the echo of that brief, inexplicable connection.
When he opened his eyes again, the world had shifted. He was lying on the ground, the road beneath him rough and unfamiliar, the twilight now deeper, almost unnaturally calm. Through his half-lidded gaze, he saw a figure—blurred, aged, hunched. The man's hand still hovered over him, faint sparks of electricity flickering across his fingertips. Salvus could make out only the faint outline of a face, eyes obscured by shadow, features impossible to discern. The man spoke again, though the words were fractured, fleeting:
"…art now…"
"…your time…"
"…take it…"
Before he could understand, the energy surged once more, stronger this time, wrapping around him like a living current. It was warmth and shock intertwined, a force that seemed to awaken something deep inside. His vision swam, his body felt weightless, and then finally—he blacked out completely.
The last thing he sensed before unconsciousness fully claimed him was the faint echo of a promise: a strange, intimate certainty that whatever had just happened was only the beginning. That a path had been set for him, one he did not yet understand. And though he did not know it yet, the man who had touched him, mysterious and powerful, would shape the fate that lay ahead—and one day, Salvus would learn why.