"Mmm… mmm…"
Michael groaned, his body twitching as consciousness returned. He shifted slightly, muscles aching, and his eyes fluttered open. Pale light seeped in, causing them to sting. The world around him was still a blur—distant, unfamiliar, and silent.
Where… am I?
Slowly, his green eyes adjusted and found himself high above the clouds, standing atop a floating stone bridge that stretched into the sky.
What is this place?
He tried to push himself up, only to freeze. His hands were gone, replaced by black-furred paws.
His human body… gone.
His mind felt hazy, too weighed down to question it. Instead, he focused on moving forward. His limbs wobbled at first, unused to the new weight and balance, but after a few shaky steps, he found a rhythm. Slowly, steadily, he pressed on.
With each step he took, pieces of the bridge shifted and floated into place ahead of him, forming a path out of the misty void—one stone at a time.
Who am I?
What am I?
Am I dead?
Michael kept walking, each paw step echoing softly across the floating bridge.
My real name is Fenrir… I'm not human.
What is his purpose?
He shook his head, lost in the whirlwind of questions.
My real mother… no, my creator. Who is she?
My sister….
I have to go back.
Slowly, Michael felt himself returning to his senses. The haze on his mind lifted.
Closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath, he felt it. His body pulsing with energy, wild and untamed, surging through every vein like a storm barely held in check.
Once sealed.
It's now a chaotic force, free… alive within him.
And it felt amazing.
The kind of power that could level cities pulsed at his fingertips—a dream most children fantasize about, now resting inside him.
The ability to rule, to bend the world to his will… he had to admit, the temptation he had.
But there was a problem.
Before Michael could finish the thought, a powerful presence descended upon him like a sudden storm.
Heart pounding.
He snapped his head around, and what he saw looked like something only straight out of stories.
In the air hovering a being of myth, tall, radiant, looked abone him. Its four luminous wings stretched wide behind them, casting a soft glow. Wearing flowing white-and-gold robes that shifted as if caught in a breeze that wasn't there.
Long, elven ears framed a face both regal and distant, and above their head floated a crown that shimmered like starlight.
Golden eyes—shaped like inverted triangles—studied Michael with a depth that made time feel still.
Michael didn't know it yet, but this was the moment everything would change.
"Wh… who are you?" Michael managed to ask, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"I am Phanes," the figure intoned, voice calm yet laced with divine authority. "A Primordial being, and your trespassing upon my world speaks of your intentions."
Michael's stomach dropped. I'm so screwed.
He had no idea what to do—hell, he barely understood how to use his powers.
Still, he forced himself to stay composed, straightening his posture and steadying his voice.
"My apologies sir," he said. "I fell through a rift… I didn't mean to end up here."
The being before him watched in silence, eyes narrowing as if peering straight through his soul, measuring every word, weighing its truth.
Tension rippled beneath Michael's fur, his heart pounding like a war drum, but he held his ground and met the divine gaze without flinching.
Then a crimson portal tore through the sky, distorting the very fabric of space around it.
From its glowing heart emerged a breathtaking figure—
She glided forward, untouched by gravity—her presence so overwhelming, it left him frozen in place.
Her long, white hair flowed like liquid. Her amber eyes, sharp and ancient, gazed down with cold authority.
"Primordial One," she said, her voice steady, laced with reverence, "allow me to deal with the intruder."
Phanes stepped forward, his presence vast and unshakable. "There is no need," he replied. "It is only his untamed potential—and youth—that spare him. Crude and unformed, he poses no threat… not to me, nor Teyvat."
Where the hell did he end up?
And—damn, she's smoking hot.
Michael quickly shook his head. Not the time for that.
It seemed Phanes—at least, that's what he called himself—wasn't planning on killing him, which was a relief. But calling him "young" had hit harder than expected. Wait, how old was Phanes?
"Young one, what is your name?" Phanes asked.
Damn, what should he say? Michael didn't sound godlike, but Fenrir—that was his real name. Might as well use it.
"Thank you for not killing me. Oh, and, uh, my name is Fenrir."
"Fenrir," Phanes repeated. "Tell me, where did the Shattergate come from?"
Shattergate? What does he mean by that? Wait... does he mean the rift I came through? Should I tell him the name of my homeworld? Maybe he knows it.
"It... came from a world called Astralis."
Phanes paused, his expression unreadable, lost in thought.
"Primordial One," the unknown goddess spoke calmly.
"Speak," he said without looking at her.
"Shall I imprison him?"
"No," Phanes replied, finally turning his gaze back to Michael.
"The world you speak of—I do not know it. But you... you have piqued my interest."
"Interest? In me?" Michael asked, skeptical.
"I sense within you the power of chaos—akin to the Abyss. Raw, destructive… potent. Such force would serve well as one of my Shades." He extended a hand, not in kindness, but command. "I offer you guidance, and in return, the means to traverse worlds."
It was clear he wasn't being given a choice—Phanes's presence left no room for refusal. But the offer to teach him how to traverse worlds… that was exactly what he needed to get back home. And truthfully, he had no other options.
Michael drew in a steady breath, then gave a slow nod.
"Fine. I'll become one of your Shades."