A world different from the one outside, quiet, and hazy like a memory half-remembered.
Lumberling opened his eyes and found himself standing in a small village. The smell of soil and sweat lingered faintly in the air. Children ran barefoot through the dirt roads, chasing one another with sticks. Among them stood a boy, still and distant, his eyes sharper than the rest, cold and calculating, far too mature for his age.
Darius Korrin.
The name echoed faintly in Lumberling's mind, like a memory being pulled from somewhere deep inside. And in the next blink, he wasn't watching anymore, he was him.
The world shifted, and memories began to flow like waves crashing against each other.
