Jack fell through nothing.
A swirling cascade of stars, fire and memory pressed against his skin as if the universe itself were whispering secrets into his bones. He didn't know when he stopped failing. He only knew that when his eyes opened, the sky above was violent— and it pulsed like a heartbeat.
He lay on soft, glowing moss. The trees above were taller than skycrapper, their trunks laced with golden veins, strange birds with crystal wings flew overhead, leaving trails of light. The wind smelled of rain and something older—like books and fire.
And for the a moment, Jack wasn't afraid.
He sat up slowly. His body felt… lighter, but not weightless— like he was more himself than he'd ever been. The air buzzed against his skin, reacting to his thoughts. A flower bloomed beside him when he focused on it. A rock lifted slightly off the ground when he grew anxious.
"Where…am I?"
The words echoed. Not just in the forest— but in his mind. And that's when it struck him.
This place wasn't new.
He had been here before.
Not in this lifetime— but in the dreams. In the flashes. The wind, silver rivers, the stone towers carved with runes, the crescent moon that didn't belong to Earth.
He staggered to his feet and looked around. No signs. No roads. Just wild beauty and silence so deep it hummed.
...…..
Somewhere far away. Isolde stood in a black tower above the valley of glass trees. Her hands pressed against an obsidian mirror l. The ritual had worked— but not perfectly. She had open the gate. She had reached him. But when Jack crossed over, something splintered the spell— scattering his essence somewhere across the realm.
"Thalon…" she breathed. She could feel him.
His soul pulse like a beacon— flickered of ancient fire reawakening— but he was too far to see. Too wild to call directly. Something or someone, was cloaking his exact location. She whispered an incantation and a cluster of moths burst from her palms, glowing red. They spiraled into the sky, searching for the boy born of prophecy.
....
Meanwhile, Jack wandered through the luminous forest. He found a pool that reflected a thousand versions of his face. In one. He was wore a crown. In shadow.
He turned away.
"This isn't real," he muttered.
"And yet you keep waking up here," a voice replied, calm as wind, rough as stone.