He woke up slowly.
His head felt heavy, as if sleep hadn't fully left him. There was no sharp pain, but a strange numbness lingered, the kind that comes before one realizes where they are.
He felt a slight pressure behind his eyes, as if they had remained closed for longer than they should have.
He opened them. A dim light filled the room, with no clear source. It wasn't sunlight, and it didn't seem to come from a lamp. Just a still glow, enough to show him he wasn't in a place he recognized.
He turned his head slightly. The walls were smooth, pale gray. The floor was covered by a clean carpet stretching without interruption.
The room looked tidy, quiet in a way that invited unease. no sounds. nothing tying him to a place or a time.
He tried to stand. His muscles responded, but heavily. He sat on the edge of the bed. Looked at his hands: no wounds, no marks. Just clean skin, calm more than it should be.
He glanced around: a large wardrobe, a mirror, a table, and a half-full glass of water.
Everything was still.
He raised his hand to his forehead, hoping a touch might awaken a sleeping memory. No use. no names. no moments. no last memory. Only a silent void, neither dark nor light.
He looked at his bare feet, completely clean, and a strange feeling of detachment crept into his thoughts.
He took a deep breath.
Then said, in a voice barely audible:
"Who am I? why can't I remember anything?"
No one answered. no sound came from outside. but inside, something began to acknowledge one truth.
His memory was empty.
And he didn't yet know whether that was temporary or if he had lost everything forever.
…
He stood up slowly. His first steps were hesitant. he felt the ground spinning beneath him, or that his body had never been meant for walking. He hadn't yet adjusted to its weight. the air around him felt thick, and the silence still pressed against his ears.
He approached the opposite wall, where a circular mirror with a dark metallic frame hung. He stood before it, and time paused for a moment.
He saw himself.
A slightly thin body, balanced despite the faint fatigue in his posture. His skin looked pale, lifeless, but not sickly. His hair was white, snow-like, short, and carefully trimmed around his head, without mess or randomness. His white eyelashes added a strange calm to his face.
But what unsettled him were his eyes.
No black. no white. no color. Just thick fog filling the sockets his eyes open to something not meant to be seen. no reflection, no light passing through. every glimmer seemed to be swallowed within.
He slowly raised his hand and touched his face.
His skin was cold.
"Why don't I remember this face?" he whispered, unsure if the words deserved to be heard.
He turned around. something within him began to regain balance, and his sense of place became clearer.
In the center of the room, there was a small square table, polished brown wood. He walked toward it, each step sinking him deeper into a reality he hadn't chosen.
On its surface were four objects.
A letter sealed with red wax, placed carefully on the table.
A shiny black watch, strange in design with no numbers and no hands, just a faint glow rotating within it.
An id card, and next to it, a golden bandage.
He picked up the card and held it up to read.
It had his picture, along with a name and details written in a language he somehow understood, though he didn't know how.
[Alth Elonreth]
[Date of Birth: 15/07/2406]
[Place of Birth: Lusaryth – Ordellia Empire]
He whispered the name once, then again, trying to anchor it in his mind. After a moment of silence, he repeated it inside, quietly.
"Well at least that's something. My name is clear."
"Hmm."
"But Lusaryth doesn't ring any bells."
He set the card aside, then reached for the letter and opened it gently. The paper was thick, the kind used for official or important messages. The letters were printed in dark ink, the language clear.
To: Alth Elonreth.
We hereby inform you that you have been officially registered as a new Awakened within the records of the Narythia Academy.
You have been granted a one-month period for exploration and adjustment.
On the 27th of December, 2421, the Academy will commence its new season of training for the Awakened.
Location: United Continent of Narythia.
Please be advised that any delay or refusal to attend will be formally recorded and will result in the loss of your legal rights within the territory of the continent.
Wishing you the best of luck.
The High Administrative Council of the Narythia Academy.
He finished reading and placed the letter quietly back on the table. no clear emotion appeared on his face. only questions beginning to take shape without order.
He looked at the golden bandage. It wasn't ordinary. The fabric was thick, tightly wrapped.
"Was I wearing this over my eyes?"
He asked himself softly. He didn't remember. But the question lingered.
His gaze shifted to the black watch. He picked it up. The design was elegant, simple, with no hands.
And at its edge, there was a small button, barely visible. He pressed it.
The time appeared.
"18:45"
He stared for a moment, then checked the current date.
21 December 2421.
He stared again. The letter spoke of the twenty-seventh. Just one week away.
He stepped away from the table, then stood in the middle of the room.
No sound. No instructions. No one to explain anything.
"One week?"
He said it like testing its weight with his voice a word heavier than just seven ordinary days.
He raised his foggy eyes to the ceiling, hoping something would fall from above with answers.
But nothing happened.
"What happened to me?"
He finally said it, slowly, as he looked again at the letter on the table.
He wasn't angry. He wasn't afraid. but he didn't know anything. and that, to him, wasn't an acceptable answer.
Questions stacked in his mind, tangled without logic, pressing on him with a weight he couldn't name. A strange exhaustion swept over him, not the kind caused by effort or sleeplessness, but one born of an emptiness that couldn't be filled.
He ignored his hunger, his thirst, the cold air that crept through the silent walls. Everything lost meaning in the face of the mystery surrounding his existence.
Night had come, though he didn't know when or how. But he felt it crawling out from the walls, wrapping everything in gentle stillness. He returned to bed without thinking, his body moving slowly, his steps burdened by a silence too heavy to fight.
He lay down quietly. There was nothing more to do now.
Tomorrow, when he wakes up, perhaps everything will return.
Or perhaps not.