Chapter 3 "Still Waking Up"
They helped him into the carriage like he weighed nothing.
The boy with golden curls Kirin held Auren under the arms with surprising strength, chattering softly about bruises and dizziness and how the seat would be more comfortable than the ground. The girl didn't say much. She walked ahead and held the door open, watching the horizon instead of him.
The inside of the carriage was dim and silver-lit. It smelled faintly like some kind of flower Auren couldn't name. The cushions shaped themselves to his body as soon as he sank into them, and the doors shut with a whisper, not a sound.
"Where...?" Auren's voice rasped low in his throat. "Where are we?"
Kirin settled onto the bench across from him, bouncing slightly on the cushions like this was all normal. "Still in the Luminis Plains," he said. "You were lying in the grass not far from the main stream. We almost missed you."
"You were passed out like a rock," the girl added dryly, finally glancing at him. "Didn't move when I kicked you."
"Virelle," Kirin said, not quite scolding. He turned back to Auren. "We figured it was heat or exhaustion. Maybe something you ate?"
Auren just stared. "This... isn't normal."
The carriage began to move, gliding smoothly over the glowing fields. Through the open windows, tall grass shifted like silk in the wind. The flowers all around them pulsed gently blue, gold, and violet like they were breathing.
"Am I " he looked between the two, voice tight, " is this hell?"
Kirin blinked. "What? No."
"Then what is this?" Auren asked, chest rising. "Where the hell am I? Why is the sky stuck like that? What are those flowers? Why is the air... glowing?"
Virelle groaned. "Gods, he's one of those."
Kirin smiled faintly. "You're in the Luminis Plains. This region's always twilight. The sky here doesn't cycle like the outer realms it just stays in dusk. The flowers feed off starlight. Some think they're enchanted, some say they're just old magic no one's bothered to explain."
"That's not an answer," Auren said. "I don't remember getting here. I don't even remember..."
He stopped.
"You don't remember where you came from?" Kirin asked, sitting forward. "Your village, or tribe?"
"I don't know," Auren said. "It's like there was a room. And... I was alone. Then light. And then I was in that field. That's it."
Virelle crossed her arms. "Plenty of people forget things near the Fields. They're soaked in spell residue half the plants out there will mess with your head if you breathe too deep."
"Why was I out there at all?"
"Hopefully not on purpose," she muttered.
Auren turned to Kirin again. "What is this carriage? How is it moving?"
"There are power crystals under the chassis," Kirin explained eagerly. "They draw from ambient flow currents in the soil. It's a Sylvan design meant for quiet gliding, no damage to the terrain. The roads don't work well in Luminis anyway. The ground's too soft, too wild."
And so also the horses dont get to tired he said pointing to the front where the horses where carrying the carriage as if they knew where they were going without need directions
Auren blinked. "You're just... answering all of this like it makes sense."
"It does make sense," Kirin said brightly. "You're just new."
"I don't even know what I'm new to."
"You will," Kirin said. "We're headed to Solenya. It's the closest settlement a real city, not like the little outposts. They'll figure out who you are and where you came from. Maybe even help with the memory gaps."
Virelle gave a sharp whistle. "If he makes it through the gates without losing it."
Auren didn't respond.
Outside the window, the plains rippled gold and indigo under the twin moons. Everything shimmered faintly, like it wasn't quite real or maybe too real, like something seen through a fever or a prayer.
He leaned his head back. "This isn't real."
"It is," Kirin said softly. "You're just still waking up."
The silence stretched for a while.
Auren stared out the window, watching the endless fields roll by like a dream unspooling. Everything shimmered. The flowers bent gently in the breeze, glowing softly at their tips pearlescent blue and candlelit gold, violet streaks like ink spilled on silk. Fireflies if they were fireflies hovered in slow patterns above the hills, their lights pulsing in time with some rhythm Auren couldn't hear.
The sky hadn't shifted since he woke. Still the same bruised-purple dusk, with clouds edged in silver and twin moons watching like slow, deliberate eyes.
His throat was dry again, but not from thirst.
He turned back to the two strangers in the carriage with him. The girl Virelle still hadn't taken her eyes off the horizon. She sat with her arms folded, foot tapping restlessly against the floor, like she was counting the minutes until this ended. Kirin, on the other hand, had returned to watching Auren with that same curious gleam in his bright, sky-colored eyes. He had an open face somewhere between a choirboy and a fox.
Auren shifted. "Who are you?"
Kirin perked up, as if he'd been waiting for the question. "Us?" he said. "We're knights. Sort of."
"Sort of?"
Virelle sighed. "He means yes."
"We're with the Lucent Wardens," Kirin said, leaning forward slightly, voice warm with pride. "Order of the Eastern Veil. Second Circle. Based out of the Solenya watchpost."
Auren stared.
Kirin gave a sheepish smile. "I know that's a lot of words."
"What does that even mean?"
"It means," Virelle cut in, "we keep people safe. From things they don't want to believe exist."
Kirin nodded. "The Lucent Wardens guard the borderlands especially near unstable zones like Luminis. Spell fractures, rogue artifacts, wild fauna... dream beasts. Whatever leaks through. We track, contain, intervene. Not all knights wear steel and smash heads."
"Though that part's fun," Virelle added.
"And we're almost home," Kirin said. "See for yourself."
He reached into his coat and pulled something out small, metallic, and oval. He tapped it once, and it bloomed open in his palm like a silver blossom, petals folding back to reveal a shimmering emblem: a rising sun cradled by a crescent moon, both held in place by a geometric lattice of interlocking lines, like a net made of light.
It pulsed gently in time with his heartbeat.
"Sigil of the Lucent Wardens," Kirin said. "Every Circle has a slightly different design, but this one's ours. Second Circle, Veil Command."
Auren leaned in before he could stop himself. The sigil wasn't just reflecting light it was made of it. The lines moved, glimmering like morning mist on glass. Even as he watched, the pattern shifted subtly, as if alive.
"It reacts to lightfields," Kirin explained, watching his expression. "So if you hold it up during a spell surge or eclipse, it changes. Like a compass, but... smarter."
Auren sat back. "That's... that's not normal."
Kirin laughed. "Nothing's normal in the Plains, friend."
The carriage began to slow.
Outside, the flowers grew denser, clustering closer to the path like stars collapsing into galaxies. The road if it could be called that turned from soft earth to a ribbon of pale stone that shimmered under the wheels. The air felt cooler here, edged with a crispness like lakewater and silver. Something in it tickled Auren's skin, like he was walking through someone else's memory.
Then he saw the city.
It rose like a dream on the horizon.
Solenya.
Built into a shallow bowl of hills, its white-stone towers curved upward like fingers reaching for the moons. Bridges arched between domes and spires, threaded with glowing ivy and silk canopies that billowed like sails. Lights pulsed in the streets below lanterns lit with starlight, windows aglow with blue flame or soft golden warmth. Every surface shimmered faintly, not garish, but gently alive as if the whole city breathed in harmony with the land around it.
A distant chime rang through the air, and the petals of the flowers nearest the city began to turn toward the sound, trembling faintly like they were listening.
Auren stared, throat tight.
"You all right?" Kirin asked.
Auren shook his head. "No. I don't think I've been all right since I opened my eyes."
"That's fair," Kirin said, tone quiet.
The carriage passed under a vine-covered archway of white marble, flanked by lantern-bearing statues stone figures with winged cloaks and blindfolds, one hand stretched forward as if offering peace, the other behind their backs gripping a blade. Their presence sent a ripple of unease down Auren's spine, but no one else seemed to notice.
Guards in pale armor waved them through without stopping. One of them saluted Virelle, who offered a nod in return.
Inside the city, the streets curved like rivers, each one dotted with stalls and soft glowing signs in languages Auren couldn't read. Music drifted from somewhere distant stringed and strange, woven with something like wind chimes and deep drums. The air smelled of crushed herbs, heated stone, and something sweet like sugared lemon and sun-warmed fruit.
Kirin leaned out of the window and called something in a lilting tongue. A reply echoed back, followed by laughter.
"I hate this place," Virelle muttered, already reaching for the door latch. "Too many stars, not enough walls."
Kirin turned back to Auren. "Don't let her fool you. She likes it here. There's a bakery two streets from the outpost that makes these moonfruit tarts "
"I don't like it," Virelle cut in. "I tolerate it. For the tarts."
Auren barely heard them.
His eyes were locked on the skyline. The moons had risen higher now, casting long, shifting shadows over the rooftops. Something flickered just beyond the spires an aurora, or maybe something deeper. A veil of light that didn't quite belong in the sky, like a curtain half-lifted over something immense and unseen.
He didn't know what any of this meant.
He only knew it was real.
More real than anything he could remember.
And memory, he realized with a start, was already beginning to blur. He couldn't recall the color of his room. Or whether he'd had one. Or what his mother's voice sounded like. Or if he'd even had a mother.
The light of this place was burning it away.
Auren swallowed hard, the weight of silence pressing down between them. His hands curled into fists in his lap. "What happens now?"
Kirin's eyes sparkled. "Guild exams are coming up."
Auren blinked. "Guild exams? What are those?"
Virelle snorted, her gaze flickering from the city streets to the distant moons. "The Rite of Passage. Every sixteen-year-old in the Order has to pass it to earn their Guildmark."
"Guildmark?" Auren repeated, voice low and cautious.
Kirin leaned in, excitement crackling around him like static. "It's a sigil. Unique to each guild, it forms just above your heart once you pass the exam. It's like a key a badge that officially grants you guild membership."
Auren frowned, the words tumbling over themselves inside his mind. "So you're knights already... but you don't have this mark?"
Kirin spoke
"Two different things," Kirin said, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a low, serious tone. "A knight's mark, like the one you saw on my coat, is a symbol of loyalty our oath to protect this kingdom and the people who live in it. It's about duty, honor, and the promise to stand between the dark and the innocent."
Auren stared at the shimmering emblem Kirin had shown him earlier, imagining it branded into skin, a quiet glow above a beating heart.
"But the Guildmark," Kirin continued, "is something else entirely."
Virelle scoffed softly from her corner of the carriage, folding her arms with a tilt of her chin, but Kirin ignored her, caught up in the telling. "It's a sigil that forms just above your heart after you pass the exams. Unique to your guild like a fingerprint of magic and meaning. Once you have it, you're not just bound to this kingdom anymore. You get protection, resources, a guide if you need one, and most importantly... freedom."
Auren's eyes widened. "Freedom? From what?"
Kirin smiled, the kind of smile that hinted at secret dreams and endless possibilities. "Restrictions. Boundaries. Rules that say where you can go, what you can see, who you can be. The Guildmark opens doors not just the ones here in Solenya, but across all the realms that recognize the guilds."
"The whole world?" Auren's voice cracked, disbelief tangled with awe.
Kirin nodded. "That's the dream. For me, anyway."
Auren's gaze flicked toward Virelle, who was watching the landscape outside with a restless impatience. "You want to leave this kingdom?"
"Not just leave," Kirin said, turning to face Auren fully now, his voice earnest and fierce. "I want to explore. To see what lies beyond the plains, beyond the mountains, beyond even the realms we know. There are places no one here has walked lands wrapped in mist, ruins whispered about in stories, creatures no one's catalogued yet."
Virelle rolled her eyes. "He's got his head full of fairy tales. Just wait till he gets a real assignment."
Kirin shot her a sharp glance, but there was warmth beneath the irritation, like two siblings sparring after years of practice. "Maybe. But the Guildmark is my ticket. Once I have it, I'm no longer tied to patrols or watch posts. I can travel. Study. Hunt things other knights wouldn't dare. Maybe even find a way to map those hidden places."
Auren swallowed, the weight of Kirin's words settling into the quiet space between them. "That sounds... incredible."
"It is," Kirin said, voice softening, eyes flicking to the sigil once more. "But it's not easy. The exams are brutal. Physical trials, magic tests, and riddles that twist your mind. Not to mention the politics. Some say only the strongest survive, but it's also about wit and willpower."
"And you're ready for it?" Auren asked, curious despite himself.
Kirin's grin was unshakable. "I have to be. I just turned sixteen the exact age to qualify. My family's been pushing me for years. But honestly? I want it for me. I want to prove I'm more than a kid with bright eyes."
Virelle snorted, shaking her head. "Bright eyes don't cut it out there."
"Maybe not," Kirin said, meeting her gaze with a playful challenge, "but they see things others don't."
The carriage bumped gently over a stone bridge, and the scent of night-blooming lilac drifted in through the open window. Auren closed his eyes for a moment, breathing it in the sweet, heavy perfume mixed with the crisp chill of the night air and the faint metallic tang of the carriage's power crystals humming beneath them. It was strange, foreign, but oddly comforting.
"You make it sound like some grand adventure," Auren said, voice low. "I'm still trying to figure out how to survive the next hour."
"That's fair," Kirin said, his smile steady but softer now. "But that's the thing about dreams they come from somewhere real, even if they sound far-fetched."
Auren shifted in the cushions, the soft fabric molding beneath him, a quiet whisper of silk brushing his skin. His throat was still tight with questions, but something in Kirin's earnestness stirred a flicker of hope a tiny spark against the dark edge of confusion.
Virelle sighed again, her foot tapping an uneven rhythm on the floor. "If you two want to daydream, do it outside. We've got work to do."
"Oh, come on," Kirin said, rolling his eyes but chuckling. "You're only saying that because I beat you in the last training drill."
Virelle smirked. "That was a fluke."
"Sure it was," Kirin said, mock indignation in his voice.
The carriage slid forward, the faint crunch of wheels on stone mingling with the distant hum of the city waking in the night. Outside, the flowers shivered in the twilight, their soft light weaving between the tall grass like strands of spun glass.
Auren glanced at the two the quiet strength in Virelle's sharp gaze, the boundless optimism in Kirin's bright smile and realized they were more than just guides. They were the only constants in a world that felt as fragile and shifting as the shimmering flowers outside.
"What happens after the exams?" Auren asked quietly.
Kirin's eyes gleamed. "If you pass, you get the Guildmark, and with it... a chance to step beyond everything you thought was possible. To choose your own path."
"And if you fail?"
"Then you try again," Kirin said, shrugging. "Or you find a new dream. But I don't plan on failing."
Auren nodded slowly, feeling the truth of those words settle deep in his chest. Maybe this place wasn't hell. Maybe it was something else entirely something alive, dangerous, full of possibility.
He folded his hands in his lap, the soft pulse of the carriage beneath them steady and sure.
"Maybe," he said, voice firmer than before, "maybe I'm ready to wake up."
The carriage's rhythm slowed as the road dipped into a hollow shadowed by thick, ancient trees. The air turned cooler, laced with the scent of damp earth and pine, a breath of the forest's secret pulse. Auren stared out the window, watching the dark shapes blur against the muted stars. His heart felt heavier than before, a weight he hadn't let settle until now.
His mother and brothers were gone taken in a sudden, brutal car crash that shattered everything. The world he knew had fractured in an instant, leaving behind only cold metal and silence. In the depths of his despair, overwhelmed by the unbearable grief, Auren had lost himself. He'd overdosed, hoping to escape the pain. Instead, he woke here in this strange new realm an isekai he hadn't asked for, a world that felt both like a dream and a prison.
The raw ache of that loss pressed in on him, sharper than the cold night air slipping through the carriage's open window. His fingers trembled against the worn leather seat, and for the first time, the weight of his own survival this uncertain continuation felt like a burden.
He swallowed hard, voice barely above a whisper. "Do you think… maybe they're here too?"
Kirin turned to him, eyes softening. "Who do you mean?"
Auren's throat tightened. "My family. A woman… two young boys
Virelle's gaze sharpened, but she said nothing, waiting for him to continue.
Kirin's voice was steady but curious. "We haven't seen anyone like that. No woman, no children."
Auren nodded slowly, the silence between them thickening. He didn't want to say more. Not yet. Not here, where even a question could feel like a confession.
"Why do you ask?" Kirin pressed gently.
Auren's eyes dropped to his hands, folded tightly in his lap. He didn't reply. The question hung in the air, unanswered but heavy.
Outside, the forest seemed to lean closer, the scent of moss and pine needles thick and alive. Somewhere deep in the trees, an owl's mournful call echoed, threading through the shadows like a whispered lament.
Virelle shifted beside him, the leather of her gloves creaking softly. "If they're here," she said carefully, "then maybe they haven't found us yet."
Auren glanced up, catching Kirin's eyes again. There was a flicker there understanding, maybe even a hint of something like hope.
"Do you believe in second chances?" Kirin asked, voice low.
Auren considered the question, the cold settling deeper in his bones. "I want to," he said finally. "But sometimes it feels like I'm just… waiting."
Kirin nodded slowly. "Maybe this place is more than a waiting room."
The carriage jolted as the road turned sharply, leaves brushing the windows with a soft scratch. Auren's breath caught, the chill of the night sinking deeper into his skin.
He closed his eyes, the scent of pine and earth wrapping around him like a shroud. The memories of his family flickered behind his lids soft laughter in a sunlit kitchen, small hands reaching for his own in the dark, a mother's warm embrace fading into silence.
"Do you think they'll find me?" he asked quietly. "If they're here too?"
Kirin's gaze held his, unwavering. "If they're here, they'll find you. And you'll find them."
The words settled over Auren like a fragile promise, a thread of light woven through the gathering shadows.
The carriage slowed again, the outline of a small village emerging from the dark, lanterns flickering like distant stars. The scent of wood smoke and fresh bread drifted through the air, mingling with the crisp night chill.
Auren's fingers relaxed, the tight knot of grief loosening just enough to let hope seep in. He didn't know what this new world held, or if he'd ever see his family again. But for the first time since he'd woken here, he felt the faint stir of something else something stronger than sorrow.
Maybe this was a beginning.
The carriage rolled onward, carrying them toward that uncertain dawn, beneath the watchful gaze of twin moons and the endless sky.