Lusei walked home with his hands stuffed in his pockets, head down, the hum of the city fading into background noise.

  Seventeen. Average height. Lean but not athletic — the kind of kid people glanced over without a second thought. His black school uniform hung a little loose on his frame, collar always slightly off-center. His dark hair was unkempt, not out of style but out of neglect, and his eyes — a deep, worn-out gray — scanned everything while focusing on nothing. Always watching. Always quiet.

  He passed the usual vending machine, still blinking “out of service.” The corner store with its sun-bleached posters. A group of classmates up ahead, laughing about something he didn’t hear.

  He didn’t try to catch up.

  He never did.

  It wasn’t that Lusei hated people. He just didn’t see the point of pretending to fit in. School was a routine: show up, stay invisible, leave. He could ace any test if he wanted, but standing out felt like asking for attention he didn’t need.

  What’s the point of climbing, when there’s nothing at the top?

  The walk to his apartment took fifteen minutes. He knew every crack in the sidewalk by heart. His neighborhood wasn’t dangerous, just tired — a place worn down at the edges, like everything inside it.

  He reached his building and didn’t pause. Just moved on autopilot — key, stairs, door, sigh.

  The studio greeted him with silence. No “I’m home,” no response. No one waiting. Just still air and the faint hum of his computer screen, left glowing from the night before.

  He didn’t mind. He’d gotten used to it.

  A twin bed. A scuffed-up desk. His old monitor surrounded by tangled cables. A sink, a tiny stove, a bathroom barely big enough to turn around in. Cramped, yes. But it was his.

  He dropped his bag beside the desk, didn’t bother taking off his shoes. He thought about finishing the game he left paused. Maybe watching a movie. Something dumb, something distracting.

  But the weight hit him before he could even sit down — sudden, heavy exhaustion, like gravity just tripled. His limbs felt heavy, his brain fuzzed at the edges.

  Too tired.

  Still in his uniform, he dropped onto the bed face-first.

  And the world vanished.

  Warmth.

  Wind.

  Grass?

  Something was wrong.

  Lusei stirred. His back didn’t ache like it usually did after crashing in his room. Instead, something cool pressed against him. Uneven. Not fabric — something natural. Earth.

  His brow twitched.

  He cracked an eye open and blinked into brightness.

  No ceiling. Just sky — vast and impossibly blue — framed by tree branches swaying gently in the breeze. Birds chirped in the distance. The air smelled sharp and alive: fresh grass, damp soil, clean wind.

  He sat up too fast.

  Light pierced his vision. He winced, shielding his eyes.

  As his sight adjusted, the full scene came into view: a wide, open grassland rolling across low hills, dotted with distant trees. No cars. No buildings. No sounds of traffic or voices.

  Just wind. Sun. Green.

  He pinched his arm.

  Hard.

  “...Ow.”

  Still here.

  He slapped his cheek. It stung.

  Still here.

  “Nope,” he muttered, voice flat but edged with disbelief. “Not a dream.”

  His heart thudded, steady but fast. Years of pushing everything down had taught him how to stay calm on the surface — but inside, his mind was spiraling.

  What is this? A hallucination? Am I dead? Unconscious? In a coma?

  Panic pressed in slowly, cold and tight.

  He clenched his fists. Tried to breathe. Tried to think.

  And then… curiosity.

  He looked at his hand. Dirt under his nails. A blade of grass caught in his sleeve. The wind tugged lightly at his hair.

  Too real. Too sharp to be fake.

  “This isn’t a dream,” he whispered.

  Lusei stood still, scanning the landscape around him.

  To his right, the grasslands stretched endlessly into the horizon — a rolling sea of green, interrupted only by scattered trees swaying gently in the wind. No roads. No rooftops. No signs of life beyond the occasional bird overhead.

  To his left, a dense forest loomed — tall, ancient trees packed tightly together, their shadows pooling like ink between the trunks.

  He took it all in, weighing his options.

  “Grassland looks peaceful,” he muttered, “but if I head out that way, I’ll probably starve.”

  He turned toward the forest. “In there, maybe I can find berries… fruit… water.”

  As if on cue, his stomach let out a faint grumble.

  Decision made, he adjusted his bag and stepped toward the trees.

  The air shifted as soon as he crossed the threshold. The temperature dipped, and sunlight filtered through the canopy in shafts, spotlighting the forest floor. Dust motes swirled in the golden light. Birds chirped and fluttered above, their calls echoing through the quiet.

  It felt… normal. Like any forest back home. Almost comfortingly so.

  He walked for what felt like hours, moving cautiously, eyes scanning the brush for anything edible. Eventually, he came across clusters of strange berries dotting low bushes. Deep purple, round, and glossy.

  He hesitated. Sniffed one. Considered the risk.

  Hunger won.

  He popped one into his mouth.

  Sweet.

  Unexpectedly rich, like a fruit he couldn’t name — better than anything from a convenience store back home.

  He picked a few more and slipped them into his pocket.

  Above him, the sun hung high. Probably afternoon by now. Sweat clung to his skin. Thirst crept in — slow, dry, and building.

  “Come on,” he muttered, wiping his forehead. “There’s gotta be water somewhere…”

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  He kept moving, deeper into the forest. Each step quieter, more cautious, ears tuned for the slightest sound — a trickle, a splash, anything.

  Then he heard it.

  Faint, steady.

  Water.

  He followed the sound, parting thick undergrowth until the trees opened into a clearing — and there it was.

  A wide river cut through the forest, its surface smooth and glassy, the current whispering against polished stones. The water was impossibly clear — no signs of pollution, no floating debris. Just pure, untouched flow.

  Lusei didn’t hesitate.

  He rushed forward, dropped to his knees, and cupped his hands into the stream. The water was cool, clean, perfect.

  He drank.

  No aftertaste. No chemicals. Just pure, cold relief. With each swallow, his body seemed to loosen — as if the forest itself let him exhale.

  He sat back on his heels, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and let out a quiet breath.

  “Okay,” he said softly, to no one but the trees, “step one: don’t die.”

  The cold water brought a moment of stillness. Lusei sat by the river, catching his breath, the sounds of the forest fading into a quiet hum — birdsong, rustling leaves, the soft flow of the stream. Like a dream on mute.

  Then the air changed.

  A low, guttural rumble rolled across the clearing — not the wind, not birds, not anything natural.

  Something heavy.

  Predatory.

  Lusei turned his head slowly, instinct overriding thought.

  Across the river, a massive creature stood, its head lowered to drink.

  It resembled a wolf, but something about it was... wrong. Too large — towering even on all fours. Its fur was pitch black, tangled and coarse like it had never known light. Bone-like ridges jutted along its spine, jagged and uneven like natural armor. Its snout twitched with each breath, long and narrow, and its mouth was lined with fangs that looked strong enough to crush stone.

  Its eyes weren’t red, or yellow, or anything warm. They were icy blue, dimly glowing — and utterly void of emotion.

  The creature froze.

  Sniffed the air.

  Its head rose.

  And then it saw him.

  Their eyes locked.

  A deep growl rolled from its chest, vibrating the ground beneath Lusei’s feet.

  He couldn’t move.

  His legs locked. His lungs barely worked. A cold sweat slid down his cheek as the monster stepped forward — slow, measured, like it was stalking prey it had already claimed.

  The growl deepened, growing louder with each step.

  Move. Run. Run.

  His thoughts screamed at him, but his muscles refused to listen.

  The beast bared its teeth.

  And then it roared.

  The sound tore through the forest — raw, primal, deafening.

  Lusei’s body finally obeyed.

  He turned and sprinted, heart slamming against his ribs. His breath came in ragged gasps. Branches whipped against his arms, leaves stung his face. He ducked low, leapt high, stumbled forward.

  Behind him: crashing, snapping, snarling. The creature didn’t chase — it charged, crashing through trees and brush like a natural disaster with claws.

  His legs burned. His lungs were on fire. But adrenaline kept him moving, every instinct screaming survive.

  Then — ahead — a split in the stone.

  A crack at the base of a mountain.

  A cave.

  Narrow. Jagged. Just barely wide enough for him.

  He didn’t hesitate.

  Lusei dove toward the gap — and got stuck.

  “Shit—!”

  His shoulders wedged into the stone. The space was tighter than it looked. Panic flared as he struggled, half-in, half-out.

  Behind him, the beast snarled louder. Closer.

  He screamed through his teeth and pushed with everything he had. Legs kicking. Elbows digging. Stone scraping his sides.

  The monster was nearly on him — he could feel it.

  One final shove.

  He slipped through.

  Just in time.

  Lusei hit the cave floor hard, his shoulder scraping against the rough stone.

  Behind him, a thunderous boom shook the narrow passage. The creature had slammed into the rock, still trying to force its way in. A low snarl of pain followed, then the grating sound of claws raking violently across the stone.

  Lusei scrambled back on instinct, crawling deeper into the cave.

  A massive paw slashed through the crack behind him, claws swiping at the air, barely missing his leg. The beast roared in frustration, its glowing eyes burning through the gap like twin embers in the dark. It paced outside, snarling, waiting.

  Lusei didn’t stick around to see if it would try again.

  He pushed himself farther in until the walls curved and the monster was out of sight. Then, finally, he collapsed onto his back, chest heaving, sweat cooling on his skin.

  His body trembled. His lungs burned. His throat felt like sandpaper.

  After several long minutes, he sat up slowly.

  The cave wasn’t entirely dark. Thin shafts of sunlight streamed in from above, piercing the shadows through cracks in the ceiling. The air was damp but breathable, heavy with the scent of moss and stone.

  His thoughts were still racing, but now fear began to give way to caution.

  What if there’s something else in here… something worse?

  He glanced back toward the entrance. The monster still lingered, just beyond the crack, its presence like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

  No turning back now.

  Drawing in a shaky breath, Lusei stood. His legs protested, but he forced them to move. He crept deeper into the cave, staying close to the patches of light, one hand brushing the wall for guidance, the other slightly raised — ready to react to whatever came next.

  Then, a sound stopped him cold.

  A voice.

  Faint. Thin. Like wind whispering through stone.

  He froze, pulse spiking. Had he imagined it?

  Then it came again. A soft plea, barely audible:

  “…Help… me…”

  His eyes widened. He swallowed.

  “Where are you?” he called out, voice low but steady.

  The voice answered, still distant, but clearer.

  “This way… please… follow…”

  Lusei hesitated. Every survival instinct screamed don’t. But curiosity — the need for answers — was louder.

  He kept walking.

  The tunnel widened gradually, the rough walls giving way to a broader, domed chamber. Beams of sunlight filtered down through jagged cracks in the rock above, scattering golden light across the space like a fractured spotlight.

  At the center of the cavern was a pool — small, shallow, and glowing softly from within. The light wasn’t harsh or magical-looking. It felt… natural. Like the water itself was alive. Beside it stood a tree, its bark silver and smooth, its leaves shimmering faintly like starlight in motion.

  Then the voice returned, now close and clear:

  “Come closer… you’re almost there…”

  He stepped forward, cautiously, heart thudding.

  And then he saw her.

  A woman sat at the base of the tree, leaning against its trunk as if it were the only thing holding her up. She looked… otherworldly.

  Her hair was long, cascading past her waist in waves of white streaked with gold. Her skin was pale, almost glowing, like carved moonstone. She wore a deep sapphire robe that shimmered subtly, stitched with arcane patterns that seemed to shift when not directly observed. Around her neck hung a pendant — a crystal entwined with delicate vines, pulsing faintly with light.

  But it was her eyes — silver, calm, impossibly sad — that locked onto his.

  “It’s… nice to see you,” she said softly, her voice like a breath of wind.

  Lusei took a cautious step forward. “Who are you?”

  She gave a faint smile — and then her body gave out.

  “Hey—!” He rushed forward and caught her before she could collapse completely, easing her to the ground.

  “Are you okay?!”

  “My name… is Celeste Nighthill,” she whispered, her voice barely holding. “I am… an Enchantress…”

  Lusei blinked. “Enchantress? What does that even mean?”

  “There’s no time…” she winced, clutching her chest. “I’m… fading. I won’t last much longer… not unless I form a bond.”

  Her breathing was shallow. Every word looked like it cost her more.

  “It’s a good thing… you came…” she said, eyes searching his.

  Lusei’s pulse quickened. “Wait — what’s happening? What bond?”

  “What’s your name?” she asked, urgently.

  “Lusei.”

  She gave a soft, relieved nod. “Lusei… Listen carefully. I used the last of my magic… to summon you here. To bring you to this world.”

  His breath caught. “You summoned me? You’re the reason I’m here?”

  “I’m sorry…” she said, voice breaking. “There isn’t enough time to explain…”

  She gasped — a quiet, painful sound — and a trickle of blood ran from the corner of her lips. Lusei tightened his grip on her hand.

  “Hey — stay with me! Please—”

  “We must perform the bond,” she whispered.

  His voice was frantic now. “What bond? What does that mean?!”

  Celeste raised her trembling hand toward him. “I will pass my essence… my power… to you. You must become the next vessel.”

  Lusei hesitated, every part of him screaming that this didn’t make sense.

  But when he looked into her eyes — eyes full of urgency, but also trust — he knew what he had to do.

  He reached out and pressed his palm to hers.

  Her hand was ice-cold.

  Then, in a breath barely louder than silence, she said: “Repeat after me.”

  “By the light of stars and the root of magic, I accept your gift and carry your flame. From soul to soul, our bond is forged — I am your vessel, and you are my guide.”

  Lusei repeated the words, each syllable rolling from his lips with unexpected ease — like the language had been waiting in his mouth his entire life.

  “By the light of stars and the root of magic, I accept your gift and carry your flame. From soul to soul, our bond is forged — I am your vessel, and you are my guide.”

  As the final word echoed into the cavern, the air grew still — as if the cave itself was holding its breath.

  Celeste’s body jerked faintly, like a puppet tugged by unseen strings. Her veins, once faint and pale beneath her moonlit skin, began to glow — a soft, silvery light that pulsed like a second heartbeat. The glow traveled down her arm in a slow, deliberate wave, drawn toward their joined hands.

  Lusei inhaled sharply as the light touched him.

  It entered through his palm like liquid fire — not burning, not painful, but warm and alive. The energy threaded into his veins, tracing them like roots under his skin. It spread quickly, coursing through his arm, surging into his chest, blooming outward.

  His body tensed, overwhelmed by the sensation. His breath caught in his throat.

  It wasn’t just warmth — it was presence.

  Like something ancient and vast had just awakened inside him.

  He didn’t know what it was. Not magic, not energy, not anything he had words for.

  It was power.

  Raw. Pure. Unfiltered. And it was choosing him.

  He looked at Celeste.

  Her face was pale, lips parted slightly, but her expression was peaceful. A soft smile curved across her mouth.

  “Use this power well,” she whispered.

  Then their joined hands ignited.

  The light began as a gentle glow, but rapidly intensified, blooming outward in waves — silver and white and gold — engulfing the space around them. It poured over the cavern like a rising tide, erasing shadow, bathing the stone in radiant brilliance.

  The tree shimmered.

  The pool glowed brighter.

  And then everything vanished in white.

  Lusei’s vision blurred. His thoughts scattered like dust in wind.

  For one brief moment, he felt everything — the heartbeat of the forest, the breath of the earth, the fading echo of Celeste’s soul folding into his own.

  And then he felt nothing.

  Weightless.

  Floating.

  And finally—

  Darkness.

  The light swallowed him whole.

  And the world went still.