Chapter 1
The sting was the first thing I registered. A searing pain that lanced through my entire being, pulling me from the blissful oblivion of… wherever I was before. My eyes fluttered open, met with a blurry mess of browns and yellows. Panic clawed at my throat, a primal instinct screaming at me that something was terribly wrong.
"He's awake, Ma!" A high-pitched voice, barely older than a squeak, sliced through my jumbled thoughts. The blurry mess shifted, revealing a woman with worry etched deep into her tired face. Her clothes were simple, worn thin in some places. "There you go, my little Elian," she cooed, her voice rough with exhaustion but laced with a fierce love. Her touch, calloused but gentle, cradled my head. Slowly, the world came into focus. I was cradled in a bed that felt more like straw piled on a wooden frame.
The room was small, barely bigger than a walk-in closet in my old life. A single flickering candle provided meager light, illuminating crude furniture and a faint smell of something earthy and unfamiliar. "Elian?" The word tasted foreign on my tongue. Memories, fractured and confusing, assaulted me. Images of flickering screens, endless rows of cubicles, and a nagging sense of dissatisfaction. Was that… my past life? A wave of nausea washed over me, and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to grasp at the remnants of who I once was. What was my name? Where was I? Another voice, gruff and weary, spoke. "Don't fret, Elara. Let the babe get his bearings." The woman, Elara I assumed, looked up at a man who stood by the window. He was tall and lean, his face weathered by years of toil under the harsh sun. His clothes were patched and worn, the worn leather of his belt the only sign of any wealth. The memories flickered again. A small, ramshackle hut. A meager field. A family struggling to survive. This was my new life, it seemed. Panic subsided, replaced by a cold dread.
"He's not a babe anymore, Da," Elara said, a hint of defiance in her voice. "He's ten summers old now." Ten? My head spun. Ten years reborn into this new world, and I had no recollection of it? Suddenly, a wave of information flooded my mind. It wasn't memories, exactly, but an innate understanding. This world was Aethel, a land shrouded in magic and danger. Humans lived alongside fantastical creatures like elves, dwarves, and yes, even demons. Magic, once a whispered legend, was a tangible force wielded by powerful mages. And somewhere, in the forgotten corners of the world, dragons soared. This knowledge, however, did little to calm the storm brewing inside me. Ten years of my life were a complete blank, stolen from me.
"Whoa, Elara, he's glowing!" The young voice squealed, pulling my attention back to the present. My gaze darted down at my small hands. Faint tendrils of light, an ethereal blue in color, danced around my fingertips. My eyes widened. Magic? Did I… possess magic? Elara gasped, her eyes reflecting a mixture of wonder and fear. The man, my father I presumed, moved closer, his face etched with a cautious curiosity.
"Easy there, El," he said, his voice low. "We don't know what this means." The blue light pulsed stronger, swirling around my hands with a life of its own. It wasn't painful, but a strange tingling sensation accompanied it. An instinct, deep within me, urged me to control it. I concentrated, picturing the light fading away.
Slowly, with a reluctant flicker, the blue tendrils receded, leaving behind only a faint warmth on my skin. Relief washed over me, mingled with a newfound sense of wonder. Magic. I had magic. My father knelt beside the bed, his calloused hand landing gently on mine. "There you go, son," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "Welcome back to the world."
Welcome back. The words echoed in my mind. I didn't know who Elian was, not truly. But with this strange new power stirring within me, a life of struggle and uncertainty stretched before me. It was time to learn. It was time to find out who Elian was, and what role he, and his newfound magic, would play in this fantastical world of Aethel.