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Chapter 1: The World That Breathed
The first thing Aren felt was cold.
Not the kind that stings your skin—but the kind that seeps through bone and memory, whispering that you shouldn't be alive.
He gasped. His lungs dragged in air so sharp it burned. The scent of wet earth filled his nose, raw and ancient, like rain falling for the first time in centuries.
When his eyes opened, he was staring at a sky he didn't recognize.
It was blue, but too blue—as if painted by something that had never seen the real one. Clouds moved in impossible shapes, swirling as though the heavens themselves were… watching.
Aren sat up slowly. His hands sank into soil that pulsed faintly beneath his palms, alive with a rhythm that matched his own heartbeat.
> "Where… am I?"
His voice sounded small against the vast silence.
There was no city skyline.
No phone.
No noise of cars or people.
Only wind, grass, and the faraway murmur of a forest that seemed to breathe with him.
He checked himself—no wounds, no armor, no strange markings. Just his own clothes, torn at the knees, caked in dirt. His body ached as if it had fallen from the sky.
Aren looked around again, confusion sharpening into unease.
The landscape was… wrong. The colors were richer, more alive. Every blade of grass bent toward him. The wind circled, brushing against his face like invisible fingers.
It almost felt like the world itself was curious about him.
A low hum rolled through the ground.
The air shimmered, rippling like water touched by light. He froze.
> "Is… someone there?"
No answer. Only that hum—low, deep, and ancient—coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.
And then… a voice.
Not heard, but felt.
Welcome, child of silence.
Aren flinched backward, eyes wide.
He spun around, scanning the field—nothing. No one.
You have come uncalled by men… unchosen by gods.
The voice was soft, layered, like countless whispers speaking as one.
Yet I have drawn you here. You will not understand yet, but you will learn.
> "Who are you?" Aren whispered, his voice trembling.
I am the soil beneath your feet, the breath in your lungs. I am the world that forgot how to live.
The sound faded, leaving only the wind.
Aren stared at the sky again, heartbeat thundering.
The world itself had spoken to him?
He tried to stand—but the ground shifted beneath him, cracking. Something was moving below the earth.
A shadow burst out of the soil—a creature, twisted and sinewy, its eyes burning with blue fire. Its body was like the skeleton of a wolf stitched with roots and stone.
Aren stumbled back, falling hard on his elbows. The creature snarled, its voice like grinding metal.
> "What the hell—stay back!"
It lunged.
He threw himself aside just as claws ripped through where he'd been. The world spun; his shoulder slammed against a rock. Pain flared, but instinct kicked in—he grabbed a fallen branch, heart pounding.
The beast came again. Aren swung wildly, striking its face. The branch shattered, but the impact made it stagger.
Adrenaline surged through his veins. His mind screamed: Move or die.
He grabbed another rock and slammed it into the creature's head once, twice, until the blue light in its eyes flickered and went out.
Silence.
Aren stood over the crumbling remains, chest heaving.
He stared at his shaking hands—at the dirt, the blood, the fear.
> "This isn't a dream… is it?"
The air shimmered again. The voice returned, quieter this time, almost tender.
No. This is life. The one you forgot to live.
He looked up, at the strange sky that seemed to breathe along with him.
> "If you're the one who brought me here…" he whispered, "then you better have a damn good reason."
The wind blew softly, carrying his words away.
And somewhere beyond the hills, the world exhaled—a long, shuddering breath—as if answering.
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End of Chapter 1.
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