AN: Up to 20 Advanced Chapters on my Patreon
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The chamber breathed with a dim, rhythmic glow, as though the walls themselves were alive. Time passed strangely there. With days bleeding into nights, and nights into days, though one couldn't really tell due to the same lights masking the passage of time. And just like that, two weeks slipped quietly away.
Mark's body mended faster than could be explained by any of mankind's medicine. Humanity had advanced far in its technology, taking leaps into what was once believed to be merely theoretical. However, Mark's injuries had been so severe that even with humanity's best efforts, his death would have been considered imminent, let alone recovering in the span of 2 weeks.
Bones that had been turned to powder from such a fall had been reshaped, somehow, and glued back together, his torn flesh knitted, his severed spinal cord mended. What should have been certain death was stopped in its tracks by technology so advanced that it would be considered miraculous.
However, the process wasn't without any pain. In the moments where his consciousness would return to him for a few seconds, Mark would feel aches far worse than when his memories integrated, as though his entire body was being rebuilt at the atomic level.
When he was finally able to hold onto his consciousness for more than 20 seconds, he felt like he was different. It was awkward, like his own body was foreign to himself.
After some time, he was able to tell that, although the healing process wasn't done, he had been healed just enough to slowly force himself upright into a sitting position.
His blurred vision stared down at his shaking hands, as if this alone was a major strain on his body. His hands seemed weird. There was something off about them, but he couldn't quite place what it was. He forced his vision to focus on his left wrist, where he knew there was a scar from when he was a child, yet he could find no such thing. Satisfied with the inspection, he lay back down and closed his eyes.
A day went by before he opened them again. This time, he felt his body was a little bit stronger, strong enough to hopefully stand. He struggled to get off the dais and stand, leaning heavily against the smooth, faded wall, his legs trembling in defiance beneath him.
Even in his leaning position, Mark felt as though he was... taller? His eyes looked down at his legs, which were about the same girth as he remembered, though something was different about them. Muscles he could barely see while flexing had been replaced by tight muscles that bulged with a vitality and power he couldn't quite place.
His eyes scanned the rest of his body, noticing the same changes all over himself. A soft breeze from one of the wall's vents sent chills down his body, and he finally noticed that he was only wearing underwear. His swaying mind struggled to picture a pair of black sweatspants and a hoodie. Once he finally concentrated enough, his pendant came to life and dressed him.
After addressing his clothing issue, Mark's eyes scanned the alien room, his eyes heavy as he noticed that there was no medical equipment anywhere. His vision was slowly drawn toward a tall open door, maybe about 12 feet tall. But what drew his sight wasn't the door itself, but the being standing in the doorway.
The figure stood tall, impossibly so, maybe about a foot shorter than the door, its slender frame wrapped in garments that symbolized nobility. At a glance, it resembled a man, but nothing human had ever been shaped quite like this: fingers stretched too long, height that pressed past any natural limits, a body too thin for the presence it commanded.
Sharp and quizical eyes filled with curiosity adorned a young man's face as they stared back at him, yet Mark felt the weight of centuries pressing from them.
The being's voice, when it came, was surprisingly low and regal. Each word carried the cadence of someone who was wise beyond his appearance.
"You're finally awake," it said. "Clumsy and uncertain… still not used to your transformation, yet you rise nonetheless. That is well."
It paused, studying him with those deep, unblinking, glowing blue eyes.
"I have watched you for some time now... studied you as well. I hope you don't take offence at the changes I have made. The measures I took may seem unethical and invasive from a certain standpoint, but without them, you would be on your trip to your third life... our kind appears not to be as I once knew. You're smaller, softer, and easier to kill. It's quite the shame, really. It's as if I'm staring at a mere child where a man exuding power once stood."
The words that came out of the being's mouth were not cruel. If anything, a hint of disappointment could be felt in his words, as if unhappy with the results of the truth it was staring at. "Even the usage of your brain is diminished. You may use it all, yet it is an appalingly unfocused, the wasted potential is... immense. It is sad to see what we've become... like mere children... And yet… even children may grow."
Mark opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, uncertain as to what he could or should say.
The being took 3 steps and closed the distance between the two significantly. "I can see it in you, in your weary eyes, in the fear emanating from you. You do not understand the ground on which you stand. You do not know just whose shadow you walk in. But it is no fault of your kind, for time is a cruel negotiator. You are new. And I… well, to you I am very old."
The words lingered in the air solemnly, as though the being had only spoken them to itself rather than for Mark, who could feel his throat tightening.
Mark leaned harder on the wall, every single one of his nerves screaming for rest, but he found it within him to speak up, words managing to escape his lips. "…Who- what are you?"
The sound of Mark's voice took him by surprise. It wasn't the same smooth, warm, and slightly raspy voice he once had. Instead, what greeted him was a deeper, richer, and resonant voice that had a commanding and authoritative presence. His new voice could even be described as noble or regal.
The tall figure inclined its head, the gesture slow, deliberate, and almost apologetic. When it spoke again, its voice was smoother than before. "…Forgive me. I did not mean cruelty with my words. You must understand, I have been asleep… for a long time. Far longer than your mind might have the ability to measure. And in waking to you intruding, well, falling into what will shortly be my tomb, I find myself torn between pride and grief."
It drew a breath, or something like it, chest rising and falling with a faint rasp, as though the act of speech itself was costing it dearly. "My name, in your tongue, would stumble and break. But you may call me Anahrin. Once, I was a ship crafter among my people. I was also a builder, healer, dreamer of forms, many things to be in a civilization filled with polymaths. But I also carried the burden all of us bore: to know much, not little. To turn every facet of the world until its workings lie bare."
Anahrin's long hand lifted, the pale fingers curling and uncurling as though measuring the space between them. "As for what am I? Well, my people were called the Strathari. We were a proud bunch, vast and unbroken for ages upon ages. We built whatever you can imagine: ships, worlds, gates, and many more. And yet, even the mightiest of empires will fall to the tides of time... My kind… they should be nothing more than dust now. Though I see that out echoes whisper only in the marrow of those who descend from their lineage."
The being's eyes, ancient and unblinking, rested on Mark's eyes. "You."
Mark's brow furrowed in confusion as his body ached. "…Me?"
"You. Your species. Humanity. Though the years have scoured away the memory of us, though evolution, or should I say deterioration, has carved and reshaped you, you are our children. The last song of a symphony I had thought silenced."
The words hung in the air, heavy but strangely tender.
Anahrin's gaze softened further, that faint light in his eyes dimming for a moment with fatigue. "So you see, Mark, when I look at you, I do not see a stranger. I see a child who does not yet know his inheritance. I see a branch that has grown wild from the old tree. I see… hope, fragile though it may be."
The silence after those words seemed to hum in the chamber.
Mark swallowed hard, his throat tight, and for a moment, he couldn't find his voice. Then, he asked the question he was holding on to in a hoarse tone, as if afraid of the answer. "…How do you know my name? H-how did I... How did I get here? You said you took some measures with me, what the fuck did you do to me? Is that why I feel... so strange?"
Anahrin inclined his head again, the faintest of sighs shivering through his chest.
"…Yes. You feel strange because I have… reforged you. Not in cruelty, no child, I'd never do that, but out of necessity. When I pulled you from the water's depth, you were well on your way to a third try at life. I had to reroute the channels of your mind, coax them back into harmony. In doing so, your memories… opened themselves to me. All of them. Every joy, every grief, every secret. Forgive me. I did not pry for idle curiosity; it was simply the cost of preserving your feeble life."
His long fingers brushed faintly over the air, as if sketching invisible diagrams. "I also shifted the code of your body. Small things. Fragile things. Enough to edge you closer to what we once were. Not fully Strathari, no. I was a maker of ships, not a sculptor of flesh. But it was the best I could."
Mark blinked, the words settling like stones in his chest. "Huh? Wait, what?… You… changed my DNA? Oh my God... Oh my fucking God... I'm no longer human... I- I'm an alien now, I'm a fucking alien. Oh fuck, I think... I think I'm gonna pass out."
Anahrin's voice softened, his glowing eyes felt oddly warm. "Calm down, young one. All I did was my best to preserve your life."
The old being's eyes drifted past Mark, who fought with his own emotions to calm himself down, toward the towering chamber around them. "This place… is a healing chamber, a part of what was once my forge, erm, human terms would be... factory. This is a part of the station that housed my factory. Here we birthed vessels that could cradle entire seas of stars, engines that bent light to its will, hulls that carried other civilizations, though I fear most of that information is gone. And here is where I returned when the physicians of my people gave me my sentence... A fast-acting sickness we had no name for had taken root in me. It was not contagious, and they offered me only sympathy, not a remedy, nor did they even attempt to find one. So I came back to the place I had given my life to, to wait for the end."
Anahrin drew another rattling breath and stifled a cough.
"But the end never came. Not as I expected. Instead, I was greeted by the rending of heaven itself in the form of a cataclysm that scattered our works across the stars like ashes in a storm. And when it passed, I was alone. My world was gone. My kin were gone. The factory itself was no longer where it had been, but stranded on a world I did not know, surrounded by silence. So… I went into the long sleep. Hoping, foolishly, that one day my people would find me. That they would wake me, heal me, welcome me back into their midsts."
Anahrin's gaze lowered back to Mark, and there was something unbearably heavy in the way he said, "But it was not my people who came and woke me. It was you, your entrance through my deteriorated factory."
Mark's lips parted, his voice trembling. "…How long ago was this cataclysm?"
Anahrin did not hesitate to answer. "My stasis timer indicated that I have been asleep for two hundred seventy-four thousand, seven hundred ninety-two years. I have been asleep nearly three times longer than your species has drawn breath. And when you stumbled into my tomb, you pulled me back into waking."
Mark felt his throat tighten, his hands shaking as he took a seat on the dais he had been placed upon. "How were you able to stay in stasis for so long? Surely your stasis pod's power must've drained at some point. Especially with the passage of time."
Anahrin nodded in agreement. "Yes, you'd be right if you were to think of my people's technology as yours. As I've said, we crafted worlds, ensuring things would last was but the fine print in every single one of our works.... but now," Anahrin murmured, "my ailment stirs again. My stasis has delayed it, but only for a breath of time. Now I have a year to live, perhaps less. Then, I too will join my kind in the dust. But death is just a part of life. I've lived for a little over 2,500 years; I stopped counting after my 1,000th birthday. What rattles me is taking my knowledge to the grave with me."
Anahrin's eyes shifted from staring at the ceiling in nostalgia to looking down on Mark.
"So, would you be willing to do this young man a favor and become my disciple? I will do my utmost to teach you as much knowledge to better your kind's current advancement in spacetravel technology as your brain can handle before my foretold demise. Think of it as a grandfather wishing to gift something to their grandchild."
Mark was silent. Anahrin was right; the things he had revealed to Mark were not meant to be understood by humanity. 'A species that once dominated the stars had been reduced to... humans. Not in a bad way, but they had regressed in evolution to us. Anahrin had mentioned gates as well. Could those be the gates that humanity used now to travel extremely vast distances?'
"I... I need some time. I need some time to think," Mark said, the effort to make sense of what had been revealed to him plastered on his face. "My mind is all scrambled up right now and, God, I don't even know exactly where I am."
Anahrin nodded slowly in agreement. "Yes, indeed, young one, your thoughts are... a little overwhelming. It's not every day one remembers their past life in a way that overpowers their current one. But don't think too hard now, after all, I don't have much left.
Mark looked Anahrin directly in the eyes with shock and awe. "How did you... never mind." Mark shifted his focus to his trembling hands as his mind raced to make sense of it all. "Would you mind explaining what you meant when you said you were a young man? I mean, the cataclysm happened so long ago, and well, you said you are over 2,500 years old."
A slow smirk could be seen growing on Anahrin's face as he opened his mouth to speak.
"Well, of course, I'm a young man. After all, it wasn't uncommon for my species to live up to 15,000 years."