Auren awoke to an overwhelming quiet.
The first thing he noticed was the sky—an endless blanket of dark, studded with a thousand stars that glimmered with an intensity he'd never seen before. Their light was sharp, too clear, as though they weren't just distant objects but eyes, watching him.
The air was cool and damp, heavy with the scent of moss and soil, and there was an odd pressure to it, as if the world itself was holding its breath. He lay on uneven ground, his back pressed against something cold. Above him, twisted branches reached through the sky, forming black veins across the starlight.
He didn't move for a long moment. His body felt both heavy and weightless, as if awakening from something deeper than sleep. There was no memory of how he got here. No sound but the slow, shallow rhythm of his own breath.
He sat up slowly. The forest around him stretched in all directions—tall, strange trees cloaked in shadows, their shapes unfamiliar, almost deliberate in their design. Yet it was the sky that drew his attention again.
He couldn't remember the stars ever looking like this. Where he came from—wherever that was—they had been dim, distant, washed out by the haze of civilization. But here… the night was alive. The constellations above him were alien, yet mesmerizing. Too many stars. Too much clarity.
In the distance, just past the black outline of the trees, he saw a faint glow rising against the horizon. A steady, golden light—distant, but unmistakable. A city, perhaps, though he couldn't make out more than a soft pulse of illumination from where he sat.
It had to be two or three miles away, maybe more. Close enough to feel real… yet far enough to feel unreachable.
He stared at it for a while, unmoving. That light felt unnatural. Not in the way it shimmered or swelled, but in how it called to him. Like something forgotten—something meant to stay forgotten—had noticed his presence.
A breeze stirred the branches above. Leaves shifted, whispering faintly. And that's when he noticed it.
A soft warmth in the center of his right hand.
Auren looked down slowly. His palm faced upward, half-curled, dirt smeared across his fingers. But nestled in the center—etched into his skin like a brand—was a faintly glowing sigil.
It pulsed with a pale, silvery light. Delicate lines curved and spiraled like a language he didn't recognize, and in its center was a shape almost like an eye, or perhaps a sun. The light was subtle, but steady—as if it breathed with him.
"What… is this?" he muttered.
As if in answer, a sharp tone rang faintly in his ears. Not a sound exactly—more like a pressure behind his eyes, a whisper without words.
He staggered to his feet, heart pounding. The sigil dimmed slightly but didn't vanish.
The forest around him had grown even quieter. No birds. No insects. No rustling leaves. Only the distant glow of the city, the stars above, and that strange, silent mark on his hand.
And then… something stirred.
It came from deeper in the woods. A shift. A weight. Not footsteps, but a sensation—like something massive had turned its gaze in his direction.
Auren froze.
He was no longer sure he was alone.He didn't move. Didn't breathe.
The sensation passed over him like a cold wind, even though the trees around him remained still. It wasn't physical—it was something deeper, something primal. The kind of dread that crawled up from the base of the spine and whispered: Run.
But he didn't run. Not yet.
Auren took a shaky breath and looked again at his hand. The sigil still glowed softly on his palm, pulsing like a second heartbeat. He pressed his thumb to it. It didn't hurt. It didn't feel like anything at all.
And that frightened him more.
This wasn't a dream. The pain in his legs, the cold against his skin, the ache in his muscles—they were too real. This wasn't some lucid hallucination. Wherever he was… he was here completely.
Another rustle from the trees. Closer now.
He turned toward the sound, trying to peer through the thick underbrush. The darkness between the trees seemed to shift, stretching in unnatural ways—shapes flickering at the edge of perception. But when he focused, there was nothing. Just stillness. Just shadows.
Whatever it was, it wasn't showing itself.
He forced his legs to move. Slowly at first—one step, then another. Branches cracked beneath his feet, and with every movement, he felt the forest listening. Not alive in the way nature should be, but aware. As if something ancient slept beneath the roots, and his presence stirred the edges of its dreams.
He needed to move. And if that light in the distance was truly a city, then maybe—just maybe—answers lay there.
He turned toward the glow and began walking.
The faint glow on the horizon drew his gaze—soft, pulsing, and unnatural. Auren squinted through the gaps in the trees. It had to be a city… or something like it. Maybe two or three miles away, just beyond the hills.
Auren took a breath and started walking.
The forest around him felt too still. Leaves rustled faintly in the breeze, but there were no insects, no animal calls—just the whisper of wind threading through the branches. He kept glancing up. The night sky remained impossibly clear, a scattering of stars so vivid it felt like they were breathing.
Each step forward stirred the crunch of earth and dried leaves. His bare feet should've hurt against the uneven ground, but they didn't. In fact, his whole body felt off—weightless in some ways, yet heavy with something he couldn't place. Like a tether was dragging behind him, invisible and pulsing.
He paused near a slanted tree, resting one hand against its bark. That's when it happened again.
The whisper.
Not from the trees. Not from the wind. Inside.
Words he couldn't understand. A language that wasn't human—yet he felt it was meant for him. His fingers twitched. The sigil on his inner palm gave off a faint shimmer, reacting to… something.
He pulled his hand back and clenched it tight. His breath quickened.
"What the hell is this place…?"
There was no answer. Only the sky, the stars, and the soft, beckoning glow of the distant city.
He kept walking.
Auren walked, the forest thick and gnarled around him, each branch like a crooked finger reaching from the dark. The night air pressed in—not cold, not warm, just there, dense and clinging like damp wool. His boots crunched on dead leaves, each step loud in the uneasy silence. There were no animal calls. No breeze. Only the faint hum in his ears and the lingering echo of a whisper that hadn't come from his own mind.
That same feeling gnawed at his core again. A crawling tension he couldn't explain. It wasn't fear—not exactly—but something deeper. It felt like being watched, or measured. As if the forest itself was alive and considering him. At times, he swore the trees leaned just slightly inward, ever so subtly, like the forest was folding in on him.
"Get a grip," he muttered to himself, voice too hoarse, too dry.
Still, the sensation remained—an invisible pressure lodged deep in his chest. Was it something about this place? Or something in his own mind playing tricks on him?
He didn't know. He didn't like not knowing.
He pressed on. The faint glow of the distant city was still ahead, like a mirage, haloed faintly beyond the black treeline. It never seemed closer, no matter how far he walked.
After nearly two hours of navigating the winding paths, roots, and uneven ground, his legs grew heavy and his breath ragged. His body was exhausted, but the unease in him never faded. Every step forward felt like walking deeper into a question with no answer.
He didn't know where he was, why he was here—or what had awakened in him the moment he opened his eyes.
But the sigil on his palm still pulsed faintly beneath his glove. And whatever truth it held... it was only just beginning.
His legs trembled beneath him. Every muscle ached, and his throat burned with thirst he could no longer swallow down. The forest had thinned, the dense canopy peeling back just enough to let the moonlight spill through, silver and sharp.
Auren's steps faltered. He leaned against a tree, chest rising and falling like a dying bellows. He was near his limit. If he didn't stop soon—
Then he saw it.
Through the last wall of trees, the land opened up—and beyond it, the edges of civilization. Faint lanterns lined the perimeter of a tall wrought-iron gate, their glow flickering with a strange bluish tint. Towering walls loomed behind the gate, carved with patterns and symbols that pulsed faintly under the moonlight. It was eerie... and beautiful.
Figures stood at the entrance—at least three, maybe four—draped in long coats and rigid posture, wearing masks shaped like elongated bird skulls or faceless porcelain with gleaming black lenses. Uniforms unlike anything he had ever seen, neither modern nor ancient, stitched with filigree and layered fabrics that shimmered faintly, as if resisting definition.
He stared. For a moment, the world swam.
They looked up.
And before Auren could raise a hand or speak, the exhaustion overtook him. His vision blurred at the edges, stars and moonlight spinning. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was one of the masked figures stepping forward, raising what looked like a lantern made of glass and coiled metal.
Then—
Silence.