The wind tore across the Thalorin Plains like a living thing, bending the tall grasses in waves. It carried the scent of wet soil, distant fire, and the faint, sharp tang of something unnameable — a presence that seemed to notice him.
Vaelen Korrin lay on his side, mud caking his clothes and face, body trembling from exhaustion. Each breath burned his lungs. Each heartbeat was a hammer striking bone. He tried to push himself upright, but his muscles refused. They shook and quivered as if mocking him.
'Where… am I?' he thought. His mind was hollow, empty, blank. Only fragments remained — flashes of heat, shadows of halls, laughter that belonged to someone else, and a voice that called his name but now existed only as an echo in his fractured memory.
"Ugh… I have to… move," he muttered aloud, his throat raw from disuse. His fingers dug into the wet soil as he forced himself to a kneeling position.
Beneath his skin, a current writhed, jagged and violent. Every attempt to call it forth sent shockwaves through his body. His limbs burned as if fire and ice simultaneously coursed through him. The energy inside was alive — but it was angry, rebellious, and uncontrollable.
'Why won't you… listen?' he thought, clutching his chest. 'It's supposed to be mine… isn't it?'
Vaelen struggled to his feet, swaying unsteadily. The plains stretched endlessly around him, silent yet alive. Grass bent beneath the wind, rivers of light traced the tips of each blade, and the subtle hum of currents pulsed in the air. Life flowed everywhere — but his own fractured Current splintered against itself whenever he dared reach for it.
"Stop… stop resisting…" he whispered aloud, voice trembling. "I'm not… afraid."
Something shifted on a distant ridge — a figure, cloaked, still, watching him. Vaelen squinted, leaning forward, but the distance and wind distorted the image. The figure didn't move, didn't call. It simply observed.
'Who… are you?' he thought, fear and curiosity gnawing at his chest. The air seemed heavier around the figure, subtle, almost alive.
Then a voice, soft but sharp, cut through the emptiness:"The boy is awake."
Vaelen froze. The voice wasn't human — not anyone he had known. Yet it resonated within him, tugging at the jagged threads of his Current. Recognition? Understanding? He didn't know. Only that this presence had been waiting, patient as the plains themselves.
"W-who's there?" he croaked, voice shaking. It sounded alien even to him.
No answer. Only the rustling grass, the faint hum of energy in the soil, and the wind whispering across the plains. The jagged Current inside him flared violently, thrashing in pain and confusion.
'It knows me,' he thought, heart hammering. 'It knows… what I am… or could be…'
Hours blurred into one another. Hunger gnawed, fatigue pressed heavy. Yet he moved, stumbling through the grass, seeking water, shelter, or anything to sustain him. A shallow stream offered him cold, biting relief. He drank greedily, letting the water wash down the dryness in his throat.
He found a copse of trees and leaned against the rough bark for shelter. The wind sliced through his clothes, cold and relentless. Hunger and thirst still gnawed. The dull ache in every muscle reminded him of how long he had wandered alone.
He scavenged small roots and berries, biting cautiously. Each bite reminded him that he was alive, painfully, relentlessly alive. He closed his eyes and felt the subtle hum of the plains, the hidden life flowing beneath the soil and in the air, and for a moment, it comforted him.
The jagged Current stirred again. Vaelen dared to call it — a weak flare, painful but revealing. The fractured energy shimmered, alive, testing him, curious.
"This… this isn't normal," he whispered, teeth clenched. "I… I don't understand… but I… can't stop."
The night crept across the plains, draping them in deep violet and silver. Vaelen curled beneath the trees, shivering, aching, exhausted. Every sound — the hum of insects, the rustle of grass, the faint flow of currents beneath the soil — reminded him that he was not invisible to the world, that the world itself could feel him.
He tried to remember something — anything — his past, his name, why he was here. Nothing came. Only empty echoes. His own heartbeat thundered in his ears, loud and persistent.
Then the voice returned, soft, almost imperceptible:
'Soon. You will go… but not yet. Learn first. Survive first. The world watches.'
Vaelen did not answer. He did not need to. Somewhere deep in his hollowed memory, he understood this was not guidance, not yet — it was a warning.
Hours stretched into night. He huddled beneath the trees, staring at the sky. Stars twinkled faintly above the endless plains, and with them came a realization: this world was vast, alive, and indifferent, but somehow, he mattered to it. Somehow, it had recognized him.
'The Currents… they're broken… but maybe… maybe I can fix them,' he thought. 'Or maybe… I'll break them completely.'
Vaelen spoke aloud, voice gaining strength:"I'll survive. I… I'll survive. No matter what."
The jagged currents inside him responded — wild, dangerous, alive. They pulsed, chaotic yet aware. And somewhere beyond the horizon, unseen eyes watched. Ancient, patient. Calculating.
A plan shifted quietly in the shadows of Aetherion. A boy had awakened. A storm had begun.
Even as he settled into the uneasy quiet of the night, Vaelen could feel the fractured threads of his Current trembling beneath his skin. Pain, hunger, fear — all were constant companions. But so was the faint, unyielding spark of something else. Potential. Something wild, dangerous… and his own.
He shivered in the cold night, hugging his arms close. 'I have to survive. I have to understand… who I am… and what this is.'
The wind carried whispers through the grass, subtle, almost like voices in a language he almost remembered. Vaelen shivered again, his chest tightening, but he did not close his eyes. He could not. Too much of the world was alive, watching, waiting.
'I'll survive,' he repeated silently, letting the words anchor him. 'No matter what it takes.'
And in the distance, the faintest shimmer of energy pulsed through the grass, as if the land itself responded to his determination. The first step of a long journey had begun.