The Arrival
Jason walked into the convenience store he had always frequented since he started college. The familiar bell chimed as he entered. It had been a long day; he was two months into his second year in college and was swamped with assignments.
The store was well organized, with neatly stocked shelves of snacks, drinks, and other essential items a man in college would need. He walked straight towards the row of coolers that held various beverages. Opening it, he took out a few cans of Coke and also some snacks from the shelf beside the coolers.
Wanting to get to the apartment he shared with his older cousin and take some well-needed rest, he quickly walked over to the counter.
"Hey, Marshall," he greeted the old man at the counter.
Marshall was the elderly owner who had been running the place for as long as Jason could remember.
"Jason, my boy! I haven't seen you in days," Marshall said with a warm smile.
"Been too busy with college stuff," Jason replied, returning the smile.
Marshall chuckled and began scanning the items. As he did, Jason turned to look outside through the glass doors. The sun had set, and it would be dark soon. He turned his gaze away from the doors but then quickly looked back again. There was no one outside.
'Strange,' he thought. The streets had been busy when he came in.
Then he noticed the silhouette of a man on the other side of the road. He felt like the figure was staring at him. Feeling a bit creeped out, he took his eyes off the shadowy figure for a moment, and when he looked again, to his shock, the figure was gone.
"What the fuck," he muttered to himself.
"Jason? Jason?" he heard Marshall. He was snapped out of his shocked state. Shaking his head, he quickly paid for the Coke and snacks, placing them in his bag alongside a couple of books filled with notes for his research.
"Hey Marshall, isn't it kinda weird that there is no one outside?" he said, glancing through the glass doors again. But there was no answer.
He turned and called, "Marshall?" But to his shock, he found no one there.
"Marshall?" he called again, a bit louder this time. A strange feeling crept over him; all the hairs on his body stood up.
"What the fuck," he said out loud.
He did not look for the old man. Slinging his bag over his back, he walked towards the doors, wanting to get out as quickly as possible.
Just as he opened the doors, bright lights appeared opposite him, and he instinctively shielded his eyes.
As the light subsided, the first thing he noticed was the cool wind on his skin, the air fresher than what he was used to in the city. He opened his eyes, still disoriented from the bright lights. As his vision cleared, he did not see the familiar asphalt roads and concrete buildings.
Instead, he saw mountains—low and rounded, each a tapestry of colors. Red, orange, yellow, and purple stones were scattered everywhere. The sun was rising, the blue in the sky deepening as it climbed higher. Sounds of birds chirping and water flowing reached his ears.
"What the fuck," he muttered, bewildered at what was happening.
His mind struggled to catch up with his new reality, and he found himself frozen in place. His legs gave way, and he sat down on the grassy ground, his eyes fixed on the multicolored mountains that became more visible as the sun rose higher into the sky. He tried to make sense of his surroundings, but everything felt surreal. The vibrant hues of the landscape were like nothing he had ever seen before, and the serenity of the place was both calming and disconcerting.
He checked himself, making sure he was not dreaming. He even took a rock and hit his fingers, thinking it might wake him up from this dream. The sharp pain shot through his hand, and he winced.
"Fuck, fuck. Damn, that hurts!" he exclaimed, shaking his hand to ease the pain. "Okay, this is definitely real. Or, at least, the pain is."
He looked around again, the vivid landscape unchanged. The river still flowed gently beside him, the mountains stood tall in the distance, and the wind carried the scent of fresh grass and flowers.
'Was he transported to another….' His thoughts were interrupted by the roar of a wild animal. He did not wait to look around to see where it came from; he stood up and ran in the direction he saw the water flowing in the small river near him.
As he broke his sprint after a while and began walking, he started to enjoy his surroundings more. The land was a picturesque scene straight out of a fantasy novel. Rolling green plains stretched out as far as the eye could see, dotted with vibrant wildflowers in hues of blue, red, and yellow. The river he was following wound its way through the landscape, its crystal-clear waters reflecting the morning sun.
'Hope there are people around here,' he thought as he continued his trek along the river.
He followed the river for hours, his legs growing weary as the sun climbed higher into the sky. The landscape around him gradually transformed from the serene, grassy valley where he had awoken into a dense, wooded forest. The tall trees loomed overhead, their canopies blocking out much of the light, casting long shadows on the forest floor. The sounds of wildlife—the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of animals—heightened his sense of unease.
Navigating through the thick underbrush became increasingly challenging, and he found himself stumbling over roots and pushing through dense foliage. The forest seemed to close in around him, the sounds of nature amplifying his growing panic.
Just when he thought he might be lost, he spotted something that made his heart leap with hope—a path. It was a narrow trail, but clearly one that had been made by human hands. Relief washed over him as he made his way toward it. On the ground, he noticed horse prints and footprints, evidence of recent human activity.
Elated at finding signs of civilization, he began following the tracks with renewed determination. The path wound through the forest, leading him deeper into the woods. As he continued, the forest began to thin out, and the path widened.
The trail ended at something that left him awestruck. It was a road, unlike anything he had ever seen before.
The road was wide and smooth, paved with large, interlocking stone blocks that fit together seamlessly. The stones were dark and glossy, almost like obsidian, and had intricate patterns etched into them. The road was perfectly straight, stretching out into the distance, and it seemed to glow faintly in the fading light of the setting sun.
'What kind of road is this?' he thought, touching the smooth surface.
He scanned the area around the road, hoping to see any signs of human activity, and to his luck, he saw people on horseback—the very ones he had been tracking through the forest.
He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, "Hey! Over here!" His voice echoed across the road.
Desperate to get their attention, he started flapping his arms around, hoping the erratic movement would make him stand out. He began moving towards them, continuing to yell to get their attention. "OVER HERE!"
To his relief, he saw one man separating from the group and spurring his horse into action, riding toward him.
"Yes!" he said out loud in triumph.
But the feeling of triumph did not last, as it soon turned to fear. He noticed that the man had a sword drawn at his side and was speeding towards him with killing intent.
'Not a friendly,' his mind screamed at him as he darted back towards the trees once more, cursing whatever being was responsible for his current predicament.
.
.
So here the first chapter of the Rewrite.
This story will primarily focus on Essos and the Far East of the world. Later in the story, it will go to Westeros during the Tourney at Harrenhal, so don't expect to see Westeros right away.
I want to use this story to explore more obscure parts of the series.
As for Jason's powers, they are inspired by Apocalypse from X-Men. His abilities will develop gradually as the story progresses, so he won't be overpowered from the start.
I have made some changes to Jason's character he wont like how he was in the first iteration of the story.