Primordial Genesis

Nathan lived in the shadow of his own fear. Life, for him, had always been about avoidance—avoiding conflict, attention, and anything that might disrupt the fragile peace he had constructed around himself. He wasn't the kind of person who sought out danger or took risks. If there was a way to talk himself out of trouble, he'd find it. If groveling or bowing his head could save him from a beating, he'd do it without hesitation.

Survival was the name of the game, and Nathan played it well—if not proudly.

But the one thing Nathan couldn't avoid was the crushing sense of dissatisfaction that had settled over his life. Each day was a repeat of the last, an endless cycle of monotony and fear. He often wondered what it would be like to be someone else, to live a life filled with excitement and purpose. 

Deep down, though, he knew it was a pipe dream. He was too afraid to change, too afraid to take the risks necessary to make those dreams a reality.

Then one day, everything changed.

It wasn't a grand event, no dramatic twist of fate. Just a mundane, unremarkable moment that should have faded into the blur of his unremarkable life. But instead, it marked the end of that life—and the beginning of something new.

---

The first thing Nathan felt upon waking was... wrongness.

He couldn't place it at first, that unsettling sense that something fundamental had shifted. His body felt strange, his limbs heavy and sluggish, as though they didn't quite belong to him. Panic surged, but it was muted, like a distant echo. He tried to move, to lift an arm, but his muscles refused to cooperate. His vision was blurry, and the world around him was bathed in a soft, golden light.

What happened?

The last thing he remembered was the monotony of another gray day, another in a long line of days spent avoiding confrontation and hiding from the world. He had been in his apartment, staring at the ceiling, wondering if this was all life had to offer.

And then... nothing.

Darkness.

And now this.

As his vision slowly cleared, he realized he wasn't in his apartment anymore. The room was unfamiliar, with rough wooden beams overhead and walls made of stone. He could hear soft voices, speaking in a language that was completely foreign to him. There was warmth—more warmth than he was used to—and the unmistakable scent of herbs and earth filled the air.

Where am I?

The thought repeated in his mind, but there was no answer, only the soft murmur of voices and the rhythmic creaking of wood. He tried to focus on the voices, to make sense of the words, but they remained just out of reach, like a puzzle with missing pieces.

Then the realization hit him with the force of a tidal wave.

He wasn't in his body anymore.

He couldn't explain it, but he knew, deep in his bones, that this body wasn't his. It was too small, too fragile, the movements too clumsy and weak. But the strangest part was the strength he felt—an underlying current of energy that pulsed through him, barely restrained. It was as though every cell in his body was humming with power, ready to burst forth, but held back by something... or someone.

Nathan tried to grasp that sensation, to understand it, but it slipped away, like trying to hold water in his hands. The strength was there, he could feel it, but it was useless. His limbs, underdeveloped and weak, couldn't even support his own weight. Yet, despite that, he felt strong—stronger than he ever had in his previous life.

Days passed, or maybe it was weeks. Time had lost all meaning in this strange new existence. He spent his days in the warmth of his crib, his body swaddled in soft blankets, his mind slowly piecing together the fragments of his old life and the new reality he found himself in.

His new mother, a kind woman named Elara, was always nearby. She would hold him close, singing soft lullabies in that strange, unfamiliar language, her voice a soothing balm to his troubled thoughts. His father, Aldric, was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a quiet strength about him. They were good people, Nathan could tell, though he couldn't understand their words or their customs.

But there was something else, something that gnawed at the edges of his awareness. It was the power, the strange energy that flowed through his veins. He felt it every day, a restless, burning sensation that never quite went away. It was as if his blood itself was alive, a force of nature that demanded to be acknowledged.

The first time he tried to move with intention, to roll over or lift his head, he felt that power surge through him. His tiny limbs trembled with effort, his muscles straining against the invisible weight that held him down. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't do it. The strength was there, just beneath the surface, but it was like trying to run with chains wrapped around his legs.

Why can't I move?

Frustration boiled within him, a foreign emotion that seemed too intense, too raw for his tiny body to handle. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his blood racing through his veins like a wild beast caged just beneath the surface. It was terrifying, exhilarating, and completely out of his control.

He tried again, concentrating with all his might, willing his body to respond. But all he managed was a weak twitch of his arm, a pathetic movement that only served to increase his frustration.

And then there was the sleep. Or rather, the lack of it. He didn't feel tired, not the way a newborn should. His mind was always alert, always racing, filled with thoughts and sensations that were both familiar and utterly foreign. The others—Elara, Aldric, and the few others who came and went—seemed to think it was strange, the way he hardly ever slept. He could see it in their eyes, the way they would watch him, whispering to each other when they thought he wasn't aware.

But Nathan was always aware. He was aware of everything—the sounds, the smells, the strange feelings that coursed through his body. And most of all, he was aware of the power that lay dormant within him, waiting for the moment when it could be unleashed.

As more time passed, Nathan began to realize that this power was unlike anything he had ever known.

It wasn't magic—at least, not in the way he had imagined magic to be. He couldn't sense the flow of mystical energy around him, couldn't tap into the arcane forces that seemed to be a part of this world. No, this was something else, something raw and primal, something that belonged to him alone.

It was in his blood, a relentless force that pulsed through his veins with every heartbeat. He could feel it in the way his muscles tensed, in the way his senses seemed sharper than they should be. He didn't need to sleep as much as the others, didn't tire as easily. And even though his body was still small and weak, there was a strength within him that defied explanation.

But there was also something else—a hunger, a longing that he couldn't quite put into words. It was as if his very blood demanded something from him, something he couldn't yet understand. There was a pressure, a constant, nagging urge that simmered just beneath the surface, demanding release.

But release from what?

Nathan didn't know, and the not knowing was driving him mad.

---

The days continued to blend together, each one the same as the last. But even as his body grew, slowly gaining the strength and coordination of a developing child, Nathan couldn't shake the feeling that he was different. That this new life, this new world, held something more for him—something dangerous, and something that, deep down, he was terrified to face.

But there was no escaping it. Just as there had been no escaping his old life, there was no escaping what he had become. And as the realization of his new reality began to take hold, Nathan felt something shift within him.

I'm not just a helpless baby, he thought, the words forming with surprising clarity.

I'm stronger than this. I have to be.

The strength was there, buried deep within, and with it, a sense of purpose he had never known before. But that purpose was a double-edged sword, one that threatened to cut him down just as easily as it could lift him up.

For now, though, all he could do was wait, and watch, and learn.

******