The first thing she felt was heat.
It pressed against her skin like a living thing, thick and damp, crawling into her lungs with every breath. The second thing was sound—an endless chorus of insects, shrill and relentless, rising and falling like the pulse of some vast, unseen heart.
She opened her eyes.
Green. Everywhere. Layers upon layers of green—towering trees knotted together overhead, broad leaves dripping with water, vines hanging like tangled ropes from the sky. Sunlight filtered through in broken shards, sharp and blinding.
She sat up too fast.
The world tilted violently, and panic struck her chest like a hammer. Her heart raced, thudding so loudly she was sure the jungle could hear it. She clutched at her head, fingers digging into her hair as if she could physically grab hold of her thoughts before they slipped away.
Who am I?
The question formed instinctively, urgently—and vanished just as quickly.
Her mind was empty. Not quiet, not peaceful, but hollow, like a room stripped bare after a fire. She searched for memories and found only fragments: the sensation of falling, a flash of white light, a scream that might have been hers.
She tried to remember her name.
Nothing came.
Her breathing turned ragged. "No," she whispered, though she didn't know who she was arguing with. "No, no, no…"
She looked down at herself as if her body might provide answers her mind could not. Her clothes were torn and streaked with mud. Scratches crisscrossed her arms and legs, some fresh, some already crusted with dried blood. She felt them now, stinging as awareness returned.
She was hurt.
And alone.
The jungle loomed around her, vast and unknowable. Every shadow seemed to twitch. Every rustle of leaves sounded like something stalking her. She scrambled to her feet, nearly slipping on wet earth, her legs trembling beneath her weight.
"What am I doing here?" she asked aloud.
The jungle did not answer.
Fear tightened its grip. She began to pace in a small circle, glancing in every direction, her senses screaming danger even though she could not see it. Somewhere far off, something roared—deep and resonant, vibrating through the ground.
She froze.
A sharp, unfamiliar sound escaped her throat. Her body reacted before her mind could reason—she backed away, heart pounding, eyes wide. She had no weapon. No plan. No memory of how to survive a place like this.
Tears blurred her vision, hot and sudden. "Please," she whispered, to the trees, to the sky, to anything listening. "I don't remember. I don't remember anything."
Her hands began to glow.
She gasped and stumbled backward, staring at her palms in disbelief. Soft golden light flickered beneath her skin, pulsing faintly, like fireflies trapped in her veins. It brightened when her panic spiked, dimmed when she forced herself to breathe.
"What… what is this?" Her voice shook.
She clenched her fists. The light flared, brighter now, illuminating the leaves around her in warm hues. Shadows danced. The jungle seemed to recoil, just slightly, as if wary.
Somehow, impossibly, she knew this light was hers.
A name stirred at the edge of her thoughts—faint, fragile, like a dream dissolving at dawn.
Lumo.
She grabbed onto it desperately. "Lumo," she repeated, tasting the word. It felt close. Not complete, but close enough to hurt.
The glow steadied.
She took a slow breath. Then another. Panic still trembled through her, but beneath it was something else now—instinct, maybe. Or resilience.
If she didn't know who she was, she would have to find out.
If she didn't know why she was here, she would survive long enough to learn the answer.
She wiped her face with the back of her hand and looked deeper into the jungle. The path ahead was unclear, swallowed by foliage and shadow, but standing still felt more dangerous than moving forward.
"I'll remember," she said softly, as if making a promise to herself. "I don't know how… but I will."
The jungle watched in silence as she took her first step.
Golden light flickered around her fingers, faint but defiant, cutting a fragile path through the green darkness.
And somewhere, buried beneath layers of fear and forgotten memories, Lumo Sparkwhistle began to wake.