Fragments of Power

Chapter 1: A World Unseen

I opened my eyes to darkness.

Not the kind that comes from closing them or the kind cast by shadows, but a thick, suffocating blackness. I couldn't understand what it was, couldn't grasp anything yet. My mind was blank, and my body felt strange—heavy and unmoving. I blinked, but the darkness didn't change. I couldn't see.

I didn't know how long I had been here. I didn't even know what here was. There was no sense of time. No thoughts. Just a slow awareness that I existed, and something was pressing down on me—on my chest, on my body. It was hard to breathe.

I tried to move, but my limbs wouldn't obey. They felt impossibly heavy, like they weren't part of me. I had no control over them. My chest tightened, and something deep inside me, instinctual and urgent, told me I needed air.

I opened my mouth, and suddenly, a gasp tore through me. My lungs filled with air for the first time, and the sensation was shocking—cold and raw. It hurt. I let out a tiny cry, more out of reflex than understanding. I didn't know why. I didn't understand what was happening, but I needed more of that air.

It came again, that painful rush of cold. I gasped, my mouth opening and closing, trying to pull more into my chest. The weight lifted slightly, just enough to allow me to take shallow, jerky breaths. The cries that came from me were small, weak sounds, unfamiliar to my ears.

Where was I? What was this?

I didn't know the answers. I didn't have the words for them. I was just… here. I could hear something now, faint and distant, like a soft hum vibrating around me. It was a steady rhythm, soothing in a way I couldn't understand. But I still couldn't move. My body stayed limp and unresponsive. My limbs didn't feel like they belonged to me yet.

I blinked again. My eyes searched for something, anything, but the world was still blurred and dim. Slowly, the darkness began to lift, not entirely, but just enough for faint shapes to take form. Gray. Everything was gray. I couldn't focus, but I sensed light—soft, distant, filtering in like a gentle glow that wasn't too harsh.

A ceiling. I couldn't comprehend it, but my gaze stayed there, fixed. My eyes wandered, though my head remained still, heavy against something firm beneath me.

My skin felt cold. My body shivered, but it wasn't under my control. It just happened. The sensation of the cold air on my skin felt strange, unfamiliar. I didn't know what it meant. All I knew was the discomfort of it. My small hands, curled up close to my chest, twitched faintly. It wasn't a movement I chose; it just happened.

Something beneath me—soft and scratchy—cradled my tiny frame. I lay there, still and helpless, surrounded by this strange new place. I felt exposed, vulnerable, though I couldn't understand why. I couldn't make sense of anything.

Where was I?

My chest rose and fell in shallow, quick breaths. My mouth opened, and a quiet sound escaped—another cry, but softer this time, weaker. The room around me remained still. There was no response, no one to answer my unspoken need.

The shapes in the room stayed blurry. I could just make out the edges of walls, flat and colorless. The light barely touched them, leaving most of the space dim and gray. There was nothing warm here, nothing that made sense to me. But I didn't know what warmth was supposed to feel like. I didn't know anything at all.

I closed my eyes again. Not because I wanted to, but because the effort of keeping them open was too much. My body was heavy, too heavy to move, and my thoughts drifted, disappearing back into the darkness I had come from.

I was alone.