The world felt different this time. The air was crisper, sounds sharper, yet shadows seemed heavier than they should have been. Eaven opened his eyes, blinking against the unfamiliar morning light streaming through a modest bedroom window. He lay in a small bed in a quiet middle-class home, his mind foggy, fragments of memories stirring like ghosts.
He was a boy of sixteen—or so it seemed—but something within him whispered that this body had been chosen, not born. Names, faces, battles, and ancient voices flickered through his mind like broken reflections in a shattered mirror. Some memories were vivid: snakes coiling in patterns he could feel in his bones, the Book's pages glowing, the echo of betrayal ringing in his ears. Other memories were blank, dark spaces he could not penetrate.
Sitting up, Eaven instinctively scanned the room, ears twitching at the faintest disturbance. The morning seemed ordinary, yet a subtle vibration ran beneath his feet. It was quiet, almost imperceptible, like the heartbeat of the world itself. He rose, testing his senses, and realized with a start that the instincts he felt—agility, awareness, perception—were not natural to this world or this body.
Outside, the streets were waking. Cars roared past, people bustled, unaware of the delicate balance vibrating beneath their feet. Eaven's heart raced, not from fear, but from recognition. He knew the world was alive in ways humans rarely noticed. Small movements—the chirp of a bird, the scuttle of a rat, the rustle of leaves—carried messages he could understand. His lips parted, though no words formed, as his mind reached out to the subtle currents of life around him.
Yet, the greatest mystery weighed heavier than the morning air: snakes. Not ordinary snakes, but those bound by godly genes, able to communicate in ways humans could not. He remembered a little golden snake—a flicker of light and intelligence—but the memory was incomplete. He did not know where it was, or why it mattered.
His mother's voice called from the kitchen, faint but familiar. "Eaven! Breakfast is ready." He hesitated, then shook his head, trying to dislodge the echoes of another life. He obeyed, moving mechanically toward the smell of eggs and bread. Yet even as he sat, fragments of the past clung to him. He recalled training—sword forms, martial arts, arrows, flutes, and blades. His muscles remembered motions he could not consciously recall.
The dream had been vivid again: a thread of white with red stripes, a crossing, and then… all white. His stomach tightened. The dream felt like a message, a warning he could not yet understand. Eaven rubbed his temples. Even in this modern world, his instincts were alert. Something was coming, something that required attention and awareness. He did not yet know what—or who—it was—but the pull was undeniable.
He walked to the small mirror in his room, staring at the boy who looked back. Part of him felt foreign, incomplete, yet every fiber of his being whispered familiarity. He was not alone. He was part of something larger, connected to forces beyond time, beyond ordinary understanding. The world of snakes, the Book, the guardians—all were shadows in his mind, waiting to emerge fully.
Stepping outside, the sun fell on the streets with deceptive calm. People moved blindly, unaware of the ripple of change stirring the city. Eaven felt it: subtle vibrations, a faint shift, the whisper of life that was extraordinary. Somewhere, hidden, a golden presence was moving—a creature from another world. A snake. A guardian. A mystery waiting to cross his path.
He clenched his fists, muscles taut with readiness. The world was awake, and so was he.
This was only the beginning
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End of Chapter 1
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