The warehouse on the outskirts of Velmora reeked of rust, mold, and decay. Its broken windows rattled against the wind, allowing the cold night air to creep inside and bite at exposed skin. Dorian had taken shelter here after another grueling day of scavenging, his tattered cloak wrapped tightly around him. Hunger clawed at his stomach, and the bruises from the city's endless cruelty throbbed painfully. For once, he had hoped for a night of rest.
But rest is a luxury that Velmora never offered.
Shuffling footsteps echoed in the warehouse. Dorian's head snapped up, eyes narrowing at the shadows. Two figures slipped inside, moving with practiced stealth. One was tall, lean, and emanated a faint crackle in the air around his hands—the signature of a wind mage. The other was shorter, more cautious, carrying a dagger that glinted in the dim light.
"Hurry up before they catch up," the wind mage said with a panicked expression,"wait their is someone here."the two mean then stopped dead in their tracks and got ready for battle
Dorian rose shakily, his hands raised in a weak gesture of peace. "I don't want trouble. I… I have nothing worth taking. Just leave me alone," he croaked as he could guess they were thieves.
The taller thief sneered. "sorry but you saw us we can't risk you telling the police where we went."
"I won't,I saw nothing please spare me ,"Dorian tried pleading but he could tell his words fell on deaf ears. Dorian tried reasoning, pleading, and bargaining, offering scraps of information, telling lies about being a fallen noble to buy time. Yet nothing deterred them. In a sudden flicker of motion, the wind mage slashed a blade of compressed air across Dorian's chest. Pain erupted like molten fire. He gasped, staggering back as blood seeped through his hands, his ribs threatening to give way.
The shorter thief lunged, dagger aimed at his side. Dorian tried to dodge, but weakness and fatigue slowed his reflexes. Each strike was a knife to his body and soul. He collapsed to the cold concrete, vision blurring, heart hammering in panic.
For the first time since his fall from Vexhall Academy, Dorian felt utterly helpless. He had no magic, no allies, no hope. The city that had turned its back on him, the betrayal of friends and family, all of it collided into one unbearable weight. He couldn't even scream; his voice left him, swallowed by the warehouse's darkness.
Then, just as the wind mage prepared to strike again, something impossible happened. The air around Dorian shimmered. Time itself seemed to warp and stretch. A strange, invisible force enveloped him, lifting him off the floor before either thief could react.
"What the—?!" the wind mage shouted, eyes wide. The thieves scrambled back instinctively, tripping over crates, stumbling over the debris-strewn floor.
Dorian felt himself pulled upward and outward.He bodies felt as if it was being stretched in every direction.The warehouse, the streets of Velmora, the cold, the pain—all vanished. He didn't understand how, didn't even know what was happening. The sensation was dizzying. His chest still burned, but now it was accompanied by a strange, weightless pull that carried him through darkness.
He was suspended in nothingness. At first, he had no sense of up or down, left or right. The void stretched infinitely, cold and silent. Panic surged through him. "What's happening?!" he shouted, though his voice barely reached his own ears. He flailed, arms and legs kicking through emptiness, spinning in endless loops.
His heart raced, as he tried to rack up his brain for a possible answer on what was happening but nothing made sense to him right now.
Around him, the void glimmered faintly, as if filled with distant lights that were just out of reach. Stars, nebulae, and cosmic gas swirled faintly, though he could not comprehend their scale or significance. Dorian felt the crushing reality of his own insignificance pressing in from all sides.
Then, somewhere in the distance, he sensed it—a presence. Immense, incomprehensible, radiating authority. It was not hostile, but it made him instinctively cower. He felt its gaze on him, observing every movement, every pulse of fear.
The colossal humanoid being almost a hundred metres tall with a glowing body which seemed to be made of starlight stood or rather hovered Infront of Dorian. It simply watched. Its sheer presence was overwhelming, a silent authority that made Dorian's panic intensify. He spun through the void, flailing, trying to find solid ground, but there was none. The emptiness seemed to stretch on forever, and the feeling of helplessness threatened to consume him entirely.
Minutes—or perhaps hours—passed. Dorian's mind raced with thoughts of despair and hopelessness. He was trapped in a void where his brilliance, his intellect, and even his survival instincts seemed useless. The gravity of his situation pressed down on him more than any weight on his chest ever could.
Far below—or perhaps far beyond—the thieves stumbled back, their escape interrupted by the impossible. Their eyes widened as they looked upward, glimpsing a faint distortion in the air where Dorian had been. For a moment, disbelief and fear struck them. They retreated, unaware of the true forces at work, leaving the warehouse in eerie silence, the city lights of Velmora flickering in the distance.
Dorian continued to spin through the void, entirely at the mercy of forces he did not understand. The Guardian Spirit observed silently, noting his fear, his panic, and his terror. It made no contact, offered no guidance. It simply watched, waiting.
And then, slowly, the infinite darkness gave way to color. Vast swirls of nebula gas and glimmering starlight began to coalesce around him. Dorian's vision widened in awe, though his panic did not cease. Every movement was instinctive, chaotic, a desperate attempt to regain control. Yet even as he flailed, the void's pull guided him, carrying him closer to the Guardian's presence.
Finally, he floated at the center of a vast cosmic expanse. Stars and clouds of energy stretched in all directions. He could see the faint outlines of distant planets, glowing with life beyond his comprehension. But at the center, immense and impossible to fully grasp, stood the colossal being.Its form shimmered, immense and majestic, radiating power and authority that dwarfed all comprehension.
Dorian's breath caught. "Wh… who—what—?" His voice cracked as his mind spun. He felt small, insignificant, utterly powerless in the presence of something so vast. Panic surged again, stronger than ever. He spun, flailed, and called out into the void, trying to find a foothold, trying to anchor himself to reality.
The Guardian did not respond. It did not move. It simply observed.
Dorian seemed to understand something profound, : he was no longer in velmora or any place he knew
After a while all that remained was the infinite void, his panic, and the silent, majestic presence of the Guardian Spirit watching him.
Dorian's mind raced. How had this happened? Why him? Could he survive? Could he escape? Questions crashed into him, each more urgent than the last. His heartbeat thundered in his ears as he spun helplessly through the void, the stars stretching into infinity in every direction.
But Dorian Vexhall, the fallen prodigy of Velmora, could not yet see the path forward. For now, all he could do was spin and panic.
"YOU,"
Suddenly Dorian heard a deep ancient voice it rang in his mind reverberating to every fibre of his being.
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