*Thane's POV*
There was darkness and silence in my world. I couldn't feel much of anything. I was one, split into so many forms and I found it hard to even collect myself. My thoughts were shattered and so were my emotions.
I was cold and hot at the same time. I seemed to be passing through a void of time that I cannot really understand
I drifted.
I had no body, no breath, no weight. There was no up, no down, no sense of space—only the crushing realization that I was slipping further from whatever I once was.
I burned, but there was no flame. I froze, but there was no cold. Emotions flickered through me, wild and untamed—rage without cause, sorrow without memory, fear without reason. They surged and collapsed in on themselves, twisting into something grotesque and senseless.
I tried to reach out, but I had no hands. I tried to scream, but I had no voice.
Who am I?
The thought echoed, but it felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. Faces flickered in my mind—Athena, Sarah, a younger version of myself—but their names dissolved the moment I grasped them.
The void pressed in, vast and suffocating. I was unraveling, losing myself to something infinite and formless.
Then—pain. A sharp pull, dragging me from the abyss.
I was falling.
I woke up.
At first, it was overwhelming—too much, too fast. The nothingness I had floated in was gone, replaced by a flood of sensations crashing over me. My chest rose and fell—lungs dragging in cold, stale air. My heart pounded in a slow, heavy rhythm, like it was struggling to remember how to beat.
Everything felt wrong. My limbs—too light. My skin—too tight. I flexed my fingers, feeling the tremble of unfamiliar muscles. There was a strange ache beneath my ribs, a hollowness that had nothing to do with hunger. I was heavy, fragile, human.
The cold bit into my back. A hard, unyielding floor pressed against me, and the scent of disinfectant mixed with something… metallic. Blood.
I forced my eyes open. Blinding white light flooded my vision, stabbing into my skull like a knife. My breath hitched. Shapes blurred and wavered above me, voices too distant to make sense. I blinked hard, and the haze began to clear.
Faces.
I was surrounded by people—students. Their eyes were wide, filled with a mix of shock and horror. Some stood frozen, others whispered in panicked voices, their words a jumble in my ears. A few had their hands clamped over their mouths, as if they were suppressing a scream.
"What the hell…?" someone muttered.
I tried to sit up, but my body resisted—weak, sluggish. My fingers brushed against the floor, and I realized it wasn't just cold. It was wet. I glanced down and felt my stomach twist.
Blood. My blood.
The sleeves of the black uniform I wore were soaked in it. The crimson stain spread across my wrists—both slashed open with violent, deliberate lines.
I swallowed hard, my throat raw and dry. Whoever I was now… they hadn't just died. They killed themselves.
"Huh," I groaned as I pulled myself up from the ground. I glanced around, trying to arrange my thought process but lots of memories were rushing into my head. I couldn't really digest them all, I held my head as a throbbing headache siezed me. "Arrrrghh!" I yelled.
I needed to cogitate or I would go mad from the bulk of information rushing through my head. However, I couldn't the noise from the students surrounding me was too much and I could hardly focus.
"Enough!" Someone yelled and everything died down. I heard an echoing footstep walking towards me. I closed my eyes and focused on the sound of the shoes clicking against the ground.
My head began to settle down, I heaved a sigh of relief and flung my eyes open. "Arlo," the man who'd yelled was standing right in front of me.
"Good afternoon sir," I replied instinctively. It was afternoon, I realized and that probably meant it took a little longer for us to transfer into a body.
"What did you do?" He said gazing at me with fury. The man was dark skinned with a huge frame and a mean appearance. He was dressed in the common trousers, tophat and tailcoat.
According to the boy's memories. His name was Arlo Guliver and he was seventeen years old. I cursed myself inwardly, how could I have transferred into the body of a teenager. "I don't know," I replied truthfully.
The boy's memories suggested that the man standing in front of him was Haruna Inerika. He was the professor of Alchemy and Artifacts in the school and he was known for being a very strict man.
"Did you attempt to kill yourself again?" He demanded, seizing my hands and overturning my wrist. To mine and his surprise, my hands had healed up. "Then where did all this blood come from?" He demanded only to look around, the ground was spotless and not even a drop of blood was remaining.
The professor paused for a while then yelled at everyone else. "Get back to your seats!" He screamed. Everyone went to sit down immediately and then he signalled to me to follow him.
I obeyed and followed him from behind, while my head was calculating every bit of information being dumped on me. The boy was an orphan but has shown to possess werewolf trait. His family was probably killed because there is an emotional sorrow that overcomes me anytime I think of his parents.
He came to this school; Harrowdale Supernatural School. It was a school that accomadated the supernatural aspects of the society. Werewolves, Vampires, and Mages. Despite being at the school, the boy was a victim of bullying and maltreatment from his peers, due to his incredibly low talent.
That was why he killed himself, he seemed to have gotten in trouble with a senior named Isaiah whom has been making his life hell for a while now. I smiled, a lot of things were about to change in this boy's life.
"Sit down!" The professor said the moment we reached the headmaster's office.
"Why are we here sir?" He asked.
"To decide if you are stable enough to continue in this school!" He replied without any shred of emotion.