White.
Endless. Blinding. Weightless.
Eryx sank to his knees, even though there was no floor beneath him, no walls to lean against. The room had dissolved, and with it, the faint safety of familiarity. He swallowed hard, heart hammering so loudly he feared it might shatter the silence.
The air—or whatever replaced air here—pressed against his chest. Cold and soft at the same time. It smelled of ash and rain, of memory and emptiness. His hand trembled as he reached out instinctively, searching for… something, anything.
And then he felt it.
A pulse beneath his skin, like a whisper curling along his veins. A warmth that burned without pain, something alive, something him, yet not entirely. Blue light shimmered faintly at his fingertips. He recoiled, frightened, yet drawn to it.
"You are not ready," a voice said, calm, echoing from nowhere and everywhere.
"I… what are you?" he stammered, voice small against the void.
The figure appeared. It was vague, blurred—like a shadow trying to take shape. Eyes he could not see stared at him. Its presence pressed against his chest, not violently, but with undeniable weight.
"You are alone," it said. "Yet not. The world remembers you, even if you forget it."
Images surged through Eryx's mind: stone towers crumbling, cities burning, laughter lost, cries swallowed by dust. Faces, too many to recognize, too few to understand. A woman—clutching something he could not reach—running, desperate. And him… small, powerless, yet staring back.
His chest tightened. His lips trembled. "Mother…?" he whispered, though the word sounded like a plea to the void.
The figure said nothing. But the pulse beneath his skin reacted. Hot, blue energy swelled inside him, coiling around his ribs and spine. His hands shook, glowing faintly as the mana inside him stirred, restless and alive.
Eryx stumbled backward, falling through emptiness that had suddenly returned. The floor beneath him snapped into place, rough stone cutting his palms, his knees. He gasped, breathing shallow and rapid. The room—their world—was back. The crack in the wall glimmered faintly, as though it had never left.
He pressed his hand to it again. The glow shifted, reacting to him, to fear, confusion, grief. It hummed under his touch, a soft vibration that resonated in his chest.
"What… what is this power?" he whispered.
A flicker of light danced across the stone crack, casting shadows that seemed alive. His heart hammered with a mixture of terror and exhilaration. For a moment, he imagined running, turning his back on this place, and never looking back. But something inside him—an instinct older than memory—refused.
Eryx stood, back straightening, jaw clenched. He could feel it now. The choice.
Step through the crack and see where it led.Step back and wait, hiding, unsure, afraid.Attempt to force the wall open, risking everything.
His mind raced. He did not understand this world, this magic, this life—but he knew instinctively that hesitation would cost him more than fear ever could.
He leaned forward. Hand trembling, heart screaming, he touched the glowing fissure. Blue light engulfed him, warm and alive. The room dissolved around him once more, and he felt it—the pull of something beyond his comprehension, beyond his world.
When the light faded, he stood at the edge of the city. Towers rose against a violet sky, streets alive with movement. Figures moved below, some glancing upward as if sensing him, though they were too far to know his name.
Eryx felt the pulse of mana coursing through him, reacting to the city, to its life. He realized with sudden clarity: he was not safe, not hidden, not ordinary. He was awake.
And now the real journey began.
Every step into the streets was a choice, every breath a claim of his place in this world. He would survive. And somehow, he would learn what this power meant.
His dark eyes scanned the horizon. Shadows moved, figures watched, but Eryx did not flinch. One step. Another. Each heartbeat synchronized with the pulse of the world—and the mana within him.
The first choice had been made. The path was set. And the boy who was just Eryx—lost, alone, and afraid—was now walking toward a destiny he did not yet understand.