After the strange meeting with that woman, Sion felt as if he had been sleeping for what seemed like a lifetime, as if he was passing through space and time, and as if his body had vanished.
He was unable to feel anything, including his limbs; he felt like a tiny ball of energy traveling through space with no known destination; he felt light, almost like air; and all he could hear was the woman's voice echoing in his mind as he attempted to understand what she meant.
He did not know what to think or do, nor did he know if her words were true or false or whether he could trust her or not, but one thing was for sure, he was no longer the same. It was as if his existence had no identity to it; he was just a meaningless roaming soul.
He had no shape—just energy.
Weightless. Directionless. He was a whisper on the wind of creation.
'Is this what she meant? Am I still… alive? Or something else now?'
The woman's final words echoed in his mind like a haunting rhythm, fragments he couldn't shake.
He didn't know if he should believe her. He didn't know what was real anymore. His thoughts spun endlessly in a whirlpool of doubt, confusion, and an ever-growing fear of what was to come.
And then he heard what sounded like voices.
Faint, distant chanting.
"Oh, fated one! We summon you; heed our call, hear our voices, the voices of your masters, and come forth to the realm," A voice chanted.
In a flash, reality shifted.
A pulse surged through him as his essence shot forward like a comet soaring through planets and strange glowing spheres he couldn't name. He was light. He thought everything felt like air around him, without anywhere else but straight to go.
His eyes snapped open as a bright circle of gold, crimson, and violet appeared beneath him. He landed hard on solid ground, the air brimming with pure magic. The circle beneath him pulsed faintly, as if straining to hold something ancient.
He was surrounded.
Mages wore elaborate robes etched with runes as they stood at the edges of the summoning circle. Nobles in royal attire stood behind them, watching from ornate balconies. Knights in blackened armor lined the room's walls, holding their weapons. Servants lingered around the edges, whispering nervously.
'Why do I feel like I'd rather be anywhere but here?' He thought, as a bad feeling began taking hold in the pit of his stomach.
He blinked. The overwhelming light nearly blinded his eyes.
"Where... the hell am I?" He muttered as he lifted himself up slowly. His voice echoed within his ear; something felt off about it—it was clearer and much deeper than before.
The mages exchanged quiet glances. One among them stepped forward, staff in hand.
"You are in the throne room of His Majesty King Reifer, the ruler of the Kingdom of Algar. You have been summoned as a chosen aide to his court," He explained and Sion's brows furrowed.
'Aid? Kingdom? Throne room? What the hell is this freak show?'
Sion turned slowly, scanning the towering room—its golden pillars, crystal chandeliers, polished marble floors, and regal banners fluttering ever so slightly despite the lack of wind. This was no dream.
He pinched his arm. A sting. Real.
She wasn't lying.
Nothing is the same. Nothing at all.
The strange woman's words rushed back, slamming into him like a collapsing wave.
She was right.
He was now alive, very much alive.
But not as the man who died in a hospital room with the nurse clung by his side, this was something else entirely or maybe it was not just the situation.
He was something else.
And this place—this court, this magic—it was proof.
Speechless, he stood still, trying to comprehend it all. The mages observed him curiously, trying to gauge what was going on in his mind. His silence made them wary.
Finally, he spoke.
"What exactly is going on here?" His voice was firmer now, steady with a new weight even he didn't recognize. It stunned him, though he did not show it and tried to focus on the matter at hand.
He knew he needed to figure out what was going on around him first before doing anything that would possibly get him killed, which he could not afford now that he had a second chance.
Another mage stepped forward, his voice calm but tinged with caution as his gaze roamed over Sion.
"Our king seeks powerful warriors to protect the realm. We performed a summoning ritual… and you were the one who came through. But your arrival… is not what we expected, given who you truly are."
The last phrase struck him, leaving him more confused than he already was. 'Who I really am?'
He turned towards the throne. On it sat King Reifer, who was dressed in heavy black and silver robes and had piercing eyes like daggers. He watched Sion with thinly veiled scrutiny, as if peeling back his very soul; his gaze appeared almost knowing.
Something about this man felt strangely familiar, and it gave him a sense of flight...But he wasn't about to run...not yet, anyway.
The pressure in the room shifted.
Sion became aware of the curious and disdainful gazes directed at him. He felt it in their stares. Judging. Cold. Displeased.
'Why? What have I done? They don't even know me, and they're already staring at me as if I'm a problem,' he thought, clenching his fists beside him.
He opened his mouth to say something, but froze.
Something had changed. His voice was no longer the same, it was not how it used to be.
Now it was much deeper, sharper, and stronger.
He blinked, catching a reflection in the polished glass of a display case beside the throne, which held the royal staff inside.
And his heart sank.
His face wasn't his own, and nothing he saw belonged to him.