When Rey opened his eyes, the first thing he felt was pain. A splitting headache throbbed through his skull. His ankle burned with a sharp ache, and scratches covered his arms and legs like angry reminders that he'd survived something he shouldn't have.
"Yeah… makes sense," he muttered under his breath, his voice rough. "First, I die falling off a damn billboard. Then I nearly get eaten by a wolf. Now this migraine. Ten out of ten, life. Really."
He pushed himself up with effort, sitting against a tree. The air was cold and damp, carrying the scent of moss and wet bark. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in shafts of gold, scattering across the ground as if the forest itself was painted by some patient hand.
It was beautiful. Too beautiful. And Rey didn't trust it. Beauty here was a mask, and he had already seen what waited underneath.
He shifted his weight and caught sight of a small pool of water nearby. Curious, he leaned closer and froze.
The reflection staring back wasn't the awkward face he remembered. His jawline was sharper, cheekbones clean and defined. His hair was still dark but streaked with faint strands of silver that fell naturally across his forehead. But it was his eyes that truly stopped him—silver-blue, fractured like shattered glass that still caught light. They didn't look real. They didn't look human.
Rey blinked hard, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Still there.
"…Well," he said softly, laughing dryly, "at least I'm hot now. Dying twice in a day finally paid off."
The humor slipped quickly, leaving behind something heavy. He didn't recognize the man in the water, but worse—he didn't know what those eyes meant.
Before he could think further, the forest answered with movement. Leaves rustled, branches shifted, and faint footsteps drew near.
Rey's pulse spiked. He glanced around. Running wasn't an option—not with his ankle. If it was another wolf, he was finished.
The sound grew clearer until three figures stepped out from between the trees.
The first was a tall woman, silver hair flowing like liquid down her shoulders, caught in the breeze. A midnight-blue cloak draped across her frame, its hem stitched with faint glowing sigils. Her steel-grey eyes fixed on him, sharp as a blade, full of command.
Beside her walked a knight, tall and broad, a faded scar running across his cheek. Chainmail gleamed under his black coat, a longsword hanging at his side. His stance was rigid, precise, as if every breath followed discipline drilled into him long ago.
The third was younger, a woman with reddish-brown hair braided neatly behind her back. She wore a green jacket trimmed with silver and carried a wooden staff carved with runes that glowed faintly at the touch of daylight. Her eyes, watchful but curious, lingered on Rey a moment longer than the others.
Rey tried to stand, only to fall back with a hiss of pain. His ankle gave way instantly. They stopped, watching him without a word—like hunters who had stumbled across a strange, wounded animal.
The knight broke the silence. His voice was low, steady.
"Found half-dead in Runterwood, dressed like a fool, and yet…" His gaze narrowed on Rey's eyes. "Those eyes. I don't like it."
The younger woman shifted uneasily, her fingers brushing her staff. "I've read about them," she said. "Some call them the mark of seers—those who see through fate. Others… say they belong to monsters."
Rey's lips twisted. Great. Prophet or pest. Love that for me.
The silver-haired woman stepped forward and crouched down in front of him. Her presence carried a quiet authority that made Rey feel smaller than he already was. She brushed dirt from his cheek with her glove, studying him like one might study a dangerous relic.
"Whatever he is," she said, her tone calm but commanding, "the Council must not hear of it yet. Not until we decide ourselves."
Rey's stomach tightened. Council? Fantastic. Already being discussed like property.
He cleared his throat. "Uh… hi? Still alive here."
None of them answered. His words slipped into the air and vanished, ignored.
The woman rose again. "Cedric," she said, her voice firm. "Prepare the horses. We ride for Arendelle before noon. If word spreads, he won't live long."
The knight—Cedric—hesitated. His brow furrowed. "But, young miss… what if he's the one written in the old texts?"
The forest grew quiet at his words. Even the wind seemed to pause.
The woman's eyes, cold and unreadable, turned back to Rey.
"Then Luminaras' fate has already begun to unravel."
The words struck Rey harder than any wound. They hung in the air like a curse. He didn't know this world, didn't know their legends or their Council. But those eyes of theirs—their fear—told him one thing: he mattered to them, in ways he didn't understand.
Rey leaned back against the tree, every muscle aching. His chest rose and fell quickly, his mind racing. Why me? Why do they look at me like that?
The woman gave no more answers. She turned, her cloak brushing against the grass as she moved. Cedric followed, still watching Rey as if expecting him to sprout fangs at any moment. The younger woman lingered for one more heartbeat, her curious gaze meeting his fractured eyes, before she too turned away.
Rey sat there, stunned and powerless.
One thing became clear: this world had noticed him. And the strings, whatever they were, were already pulling tight.
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