Why did he have to go? Where is he now? Who am I now?
I clung to the hope that this was all just a dream. That I'd wake up and everything would be normal again. But deep down, I knew it wasn't.
I woke up, to the same white and green room. The walls screamed, I was hearing the screams. The machine operating, the doctors diagnosing. I felt alive and dead, at the very same time. The feeling was so, clustered I wanted to scream. But I couldn't, I was being held back. Only for Brian to pull me back. "Dylan, are you okay?"
He wasn't worried about me. He was worried about Dylan. His Dylan. "Oh, it was nothing," I lied. "I was grasping the reality, of his loss. He was right in my hand when he turned to dust. I wanted to rip apart the mirror, because it showed me my incompetence. But as, I was there I grasped for air, I was being breathless, I tried to grab something with my right hand, but... well, I forgot I don't have one. In the end, I smashed the mirror with my left instead and collapsed."
Half of that was true. I broke the mirror out of anger, out of guilt. But I couldn't let Brian see that side of me. What would he think if he knew the truth? That Dylan—our Dylan—was gone? That I was just a fraud pretending to be him?
"How long was I out?" I asked, trying to sound calm.
"Two days," Brian said. "But your arm has completely healed now."
I glanced down at the stump. Smooth skin, no more pain. But it wasn't mine.
"Healing magic" I murmured.
The door of the room opened and Servana entered. "Your brother would die for you, you know. Don't make it harder on him," she said, half-teasing, half-serious.
Servana, is Brian's fiancé. She is also like a big sister to both me and Dylan. We never saw our mom, and our dad left us 10 years ago, on some research related work. Last we got a letter from them was 6 years ago. After that, we don't even know if he is alive or dead. Servana and Brian have been dating for 6 Years now, and she have looked after me and Dylan for countless times now.
Brian waved her off with a grin, but her eyes stayed on me. "I'm sorry we couldn't save the arm. It was crushed and like, beyond repair."
"It's fine," I said quickly. "I'll build a prosthetic. You know me."
For a second, Servana's expression flickered—something subtle, something curious. Her eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, and her smile thinned. "You really don't change," she murmured, but the words lacked conviction this time.
That look—she noticed.
Dylan had been brilliant, yes. A prodigy in theory, calculation, and refinement. But he wasn't the one who "crafted"—he wasn't the one who tinkered late into the night, who improvised and reworked and built on instinct. That had always been me, Mark. The one who couldn't stop making things with his hands, solving problems before they appeared.
It was the first crack. The first time someone looked at me and almost saw through the mask.
They didn't know. They couldn't. And the lie was killing me more than the missing limb.
It was almost three days after the incident; I left the white and green halls of the hospital. Brian and I rode a cab toward home. I have seen the city many times, I have seen the lights, the colours, yet when I see them right now, I am fascinated and terrified.
The city outside the cab blurred past, soaked in the pale haze of streetlights. The neon signs, the smell the sounds of things, I always knew, yet like this was my first time feeling them. It was my first time seeing the city, like this. My city, Aetherion city, The capital and port of Aetherion, The Kingdom of Tech. My thoughts twisted, unable to think, weather I was free from the crystal or trapped in this body. My mind hazed in confusion, but I felt alive, for the very first time, though feeling guilty of me inheriting this body, I was confused yet thinking straight.
"Brian," I said hesitantly. "I think I should leave the military division."
His eyebrows shot up. "Honestly, I was thinking of somehow to convince you to do that."
I looked out the window. "I want to discover myself. To see the world. To learn, about things and how they work."
He softened immediately. "If that's what you want... I'll handle everything."
His kindness crushed me. The guilt was suffocating. I wasn't Dylan. Even though I was someone whom he considered a brother, I wasn't the brother he wanted right now.
"Maybe I'll open a repair shop," I joked. "Or become an adventurer-researcher. Like Father."
Brian's expression darkened slightly but he forced a smile. "First things first—let's go home. You need some rest."
"I've got ideas for my Arm," I smirked half-heartedly.
His parting words gutted me: "Keep living like this, brother."
At home, Brian's cheerful voice greeted me. "Finally, home! What do you want for dinner?"
"I'm not hungry," I murmured. "I think I'll just head to bed."
In the quiet of the dark room, I lost myself. The mirror reflected Dylan's face. "This is real, after all." I whispered, gripping my head.
A voice echoed in my mind: "Face it, Mark. I'm gone."
The voice—Dylan's voice—faded: "The sooner you accept it, the easier it will be."
I sat on the bed, thinking and remembering the events of that day. My memories are scrambled. Unsure of what I should do or say. I heard foots approaching from the stairs, it was Brian. I quickly went to the restroom to avoid him seeing my watery eyes.
Brian spoke, "Dylan you there? Dad sent you something. It is rare for him to send something these days. I will leave it on the table."
After Brian left, I gave in to this exhaustion of the human body. I lay down on the bed only to fall asleep really quick.
Morning came. Sunlight cut across the curtains. My hand trembled as I washed my face. Hunger gnawed at me—a human weakness I never had before.
"Morning," I mumbled to Brian and Servana at the breakfast table.
Brian grinned. "I made pancakes, I hope you like them."
I sat stiffly, pushing food around. Servana's eyes softened. "Brian says you're leaving the division?"
"Yeah," I forced a smile. "I want to explore. Discover things. Maybe become an adventurer-researcher."
Her expression lit up. "That sounds wonderful. If you need help, I can connect you with someone."
For once, my gratitude felt real. "That would be really helpful. Brian the pancakes are good."
But inside, the emotions I was feeling were just making me want to puke. The pancakes tasted like ash, not because, I don't like them. But because, they felt like they aren't for me. I wanted to scream, yet I couldn't.
After breakfast, I stepped out, this was my first time stepping out, as a human and as Dylan. The neighbourhood was filled with kids going to school, birds chirping. I walked towards the main road, where the tram usually goes around. With nothing to do in my mind, I sat into the tram for the very first time.
"Morning, Dylan!" It was Sydney, a friend of Dylan in the Division.
"Hey Sydney! How are you doing?" I asked her while keeping, the same easy grim Dylan always used. A smile that can convince anyone. It was unbearable. Every smile, every cheer—it was all from someone else. I hated it, I hated every moment of it.
Sydney approached. Her voice was gentle. "How is the wound? I visited you on the 2nd day. But you were in coma state."
She showed me genuine concern. But maybe it wasn't for me. But I did reply. "The healers closed the wound. I am thinking of making a prosthetic."
Out of a sudden, Sydney said to me. "Are you coming to Division anytime soon? I was thinking maybe we can hangout or like go for lunch sometime."
I hesitated, heart sinking. "Sorry, I got some work to take care of" I muttered, was about to start fleeing before the lie crushed me. Yet I responded, "How about Tomorrow?"
"Sure, I will message you the time and place." Sydney, smiled as she left the tram.
I drifted through familiar streets that no longer felt familiar. Every corner, every brick, every voice seemed like echoes from a life I didn't belong to anymore.
Eventually, I reached the old tool shop—Mr. Bolt's. The place hadn't changed in years. The faded wooden sign above the door creaked in the breeze, the scent of metal dust and oil wafted through the air, grounding me in memories I didn't want to touch.
The shop owner—my father's old friend—looked up from behind the counter. His face lit with easy recognition.
"Hey there, Dylan! How are you? Wounds healed? Got those parts you wanted?"
I forced the practiced smile—the one I'd been wearing like armour since I woke up.
"Hey Uncle, how are you?" I replied wearing the fake smile. "Oh, right the parts. Can you lend me a hand, with getting them to my house?" Pointing toward the stump of my right arm. "I really can use a hand."
His face smiled "It is good you are keeping a positive attitude; I heard about Mark's death."
"Yeah… He died. But sometimes it feels like…" My voice faltered. I swallowed hard. "Feels like he's still around. Somewhere inside me, you know?"
I didn't know why I said that. Maybe it was the truth. Maybe it was the lie.
"Everything will be fine, don't worry. Here you can use this cart. I will collect it sometime later."
The man gave me a comforting nod and handed me a small pull-cart. "Take your time with it. I'll swing by later for the return."
I nodded, murmured thanks, and left.
The moment I stepped back onto the street, the weight of everything came crashing down. The mask cracked. The walls of my mind folded in.
"Why did you leave me like this?" The thought ripped through me. My breath quickened. My vision blurred. "I'm not you. I'm not who they think I am."
I stumbled into an alley, chest heaving. The grief, the rage, the lie—I wanted to scream until my throat tore. But I couldn't.
I slammed my fist against the wall. Once. Twice. Again.
Pain didn't matter. I wanted to feel something that belonged to me.
And then—
The spark.
Tiny arcs of lightning crackled at my fingertips. Soft. Faint. But real.
I stumbled back, heart pounding.
"What…?"
Tiny flickers of electricity still danced at my fingertips—erratic, uncontrolled. It wasn't unnatural. In this world, elemental affinities like this were common enough. But me?
I'd never had an affinity. Not as Mark. Not as Dylan.
This wasn't Dylan's body anymore.
Without thinking, I made my way to Servana's Clinic right away. Her clinic, was in the other side of the city I was in. I went in, for getting these weird flickers get checked. I went in and was greeted with a fair amount of crowd. I went in from backdoor, taking the family privileges to full extent.
"Hey sis, you there." I called out for her, to find her having lunch.
I found her in the staff room, halfway through a plate of food. She glanced up, a spoon still halfway to her mouth.
"Oh hey, Dylan. What's up?" she mumbled around the bite.
For the first time in days, something close to a real laugh escaped me.
"Finish your food. I can wait."
"Give me a sec," she said between bites, grinning.
I explained her, about the lightning and the flickering. She looked, totally calm, like she knew what was going on.
"Yeah, that is electrical affinity, you may have tapped into your affinity awakening. It is quite ordinary, don't worry too much." She said calmly.
Ordinary, she called it. But nothing about this borrowed life felt ordinary anymore—not the flickers, not the breath in my lungs, not the weight in my chest."
*****