The pain came first.
A slow, pulsing throb behind his eyes, as if something ancient and heavy had been pushed into a space too small. Zion groaned. His limbs felt foreign. His bones too light. The air was thick and bitter, tasting of wet ash and fear.
He blinked.
The sky above him was raw and bleeding dusk. Clouds moved like wolves, dark and hunting. Nearby, the crackle of firewood and the soft murmur of hushed voices reached his ears. He wasn't alone.
But something was wrong.
He remembered dying.
He remembered the cold floor of his grandmother's house, the sound of her voice, the betrayal, the sharp twist of pain in his gut. The bitterness of blood in his mouth. And then—
Nothing.
Until now.
He sat up slowly, gasping at the dizziness that followed. His hand gripped the dirt. Dark skin—lighter than his own had been. Younger hands. The muscles lean, wiry. He looked down at himself: he was… sixteen? Maybe seventeen. Thin. Covered in dirt and dried blood.
He was in someone else's body.
"What the hell…?"
Memories flooded in—fractured at first. A boy's laughter. Hunting through thick forests. Chants around the fire. The heavy burden of leadership. And then the battle. Screams. The scent of burnt flesh. Death. Sacrifice.
This body had been given—not stolen.
"You… gave yourself away," he murmured, pressing his hand to his chest, heartbeat strong but unfamiliar.
"You knew they'd all die… and you gave me your body so they wouldn't."
He could still feel the echoes of the old chief's final prayer. It clung to his ribs like smoke.
A shuffle near the fire caught his eye. Three teens sat around it, watching something boil in a hollowed gourd. One stood—tall, bronze-skinned, a stone blade at his side. His hair was knotted into thick braids, eyes scanning the horizon.
Kael.
The name surfaced without effort. Zion's throat tightened.
Kael had carried him four days without rest.
Beside Kael, a girl sat sharpening a spear. She was quiet. Focused. There was a calm violence in her, like a jaguar sleeping beside a corpse.
Thalia.
He remembered her too. She had killed without hesitation when they were hunted.
He stood slowly, using a nearby branch to steady himself. Thalia's eyes snapped to him instantly. Kael turned a heartbeat later.
"Zion?" Kael stepped forward, disbelief in his voice.
"I'm here," Zion said, the voice foreign even to him.
Thalia stood as well. "You were unconscious for four days. We thought you were—"
"Dead?" he offered with a thin smile. "Yeah. That makes two of us."
Kael let out a choked laugh. "You don't sound like you."
Zion looked around. They were in a ravine, concealed by thick vines and jagged stone. The smell of blood and ash still hung in the air. Scars of battle marked the landscape. The land was unforgiving. They were being hunted. And they had nowhere to go.
"Because I'm not the same anymore," Zion said quietly. "But I remember everything. What we lost. Who died."
He looked up. The stars were beginning to show.
"We can't go back," he said, voice firm now. "The tribe is gone. The elders. The warriors. We're what's left."
Thalia narrowed her eyes. "So what now?"
Zion exhaled. The memories of his old life began aligning with this new reality. The teachings of his grandmother. Farming. Medicine. Construction. Government. Warfare. And stories of gods who watched from across the veil, waiting to be remembered.
"We survive," he said. "Then we rebuild. Not just another tribe—but a new kind of tribe. Clean. Structured. Balanced. Where no god is feared for the wrong reasons, and no person rules by strength alone."
Kael tilted his head. "How?"
"First, we find shelter. Then water. Food. I know what to look for. I know how to build what we need. Not from this world… but from the one I came from before."
Thalia's eyes sharpened. "What do you mean?"
Zion met her gaze. "You'll understand in time. But I need you both to trust me."
They were quiet for a moment. Then Kael nodded. "Always."
Thalia said nothing—but lowered her spear.
Zion stepped forward and stared into the wild.
He didn't know where the gods would lead him, or which enemies lurked in the forests ahead.
But he knew this:
The boy who had died was gone. The man who stood now—born of two worlds—was the beginning of something new.
A fire sparked in his chest