Chapter 38: A Tale of Two Wolves

Zamson remembered the race. The look on Naia's face. The shouting of his friends' voice. And Noctavion's wickedest ploy. The stinging pain of Noctavion's bone blade. The way his skin burned and flayed. The look on Naia's face as she was undoubtedly afraid. If not for his friends and the stranger's pull of the trigger, Zamson would have been slain.

And the world would know absolute darkness as hope itself would fade.

The last Zamson laid eyes on was a frantic Naia, hanging lights, Logan's stoic mug, and that bald guy named Princeton. There were others voices known, like Shane and the one they called Soul, but they all swirled into a blur, receding into the depths of nothingness as darkness came for Zamson.

Pulling him into the pits of his own consciousness.

It took him a minute, but he felt it. Awakening not on a cold table but in a thick patch of grass. Earth. But this world was not his world. It was another's. Discovering this experience was not of his subconscious nature.