The sun was bright. Bright in a way that was unfamiliar, almost too vivid for a world that should be different. The rays cut through the open windows, casting long, sharp shadows on the wooden floors of the small, humble home. A soft, warm breeze blew through the room, stirring the curtains like a slow dance, making everything seem both serene and a little... wrong. Something about this world was not as it should be.
Jade awoke with a start.
His breath caught in his throat, and his hands scrambled against the soft bed sheets, as if the very act of being in this new body was alien to him. His mind raced with confusion—memories of the previous world flickered like broken images—dark shadows of battles, burning cities, and the cold, merciless grip of death.
But then, all at once, they faded. It was as though they had never existed, as though they had never been a part of him.
Was it a dream?
He sat up, rubbing his eyes, his body still that of a child—no older than six or seven. But everything about him felt... wrong. He wasn't supposed to be here. His memories, the remnants of his old life, clung to him like fragments of glass that refused to break apart. His old self—his power, his journey—felt so far away.
A voice broke his thoughts.
"Jade, wake up already! It's gonna be another hot day today!"
Jade turned toward the door. Standing there, leaning against the frame, was a figure he had not yet fully recognized—his father, a tall, broad man with shaggy black hair and a wide smile. He wore a simple tunic, and his face was weathered by years of hard work under the sun.
"Come on, kid, or you'll miss breakfast!"
Jade's throat tightened, and he found himself unable to speak. The words, the sounds, they felt... foreign, like they didn't belong to him anymore.
No words. No voice.
He forced himself to rise from the bed, his hands trembling as he placed them on the floor to steady himself. The air felt heavier as if something was pressing down on his chest. He took a step forward and padded toward the door.
In the dim light of the morning, he caught sight of a mirror, and his breath hitched. The reflection staring back at him was that of a child—his hair messy, his eyes wide and filled with the strange weight of an unknown past. The boy in the mirror wasn't who he was, but it was who he was now.
Is this me?
His amber eyes shimmered with the reflection of a life that had been stolen, but the question remained: who had he been before?
The door creaked open, and there, in the kitchen, stood his older brother, Arata. His appearance was unchanged by time, with messy black hair and a face that bore the scars of a long night filled with heavy drinking. He was slumped at the table, a mug tipped over beside him, its contents spilling onto the wooden floor.
Arata grumbled something that Jade couldn't quite make sense of, slurring his words. His older brother's eyes were half-lidded, dull and heavy with alcohol. There was no hint of recognition in his gaze, only that familiar mix of irritation and tiredness.
Jade approached quietly, standing by the table without a word, observing the mess.
Arata shifted in his chair, his gaze falling upon Jade. There was no shock in his expression. No surprise. His lips curled slightly, offering a weak, lazy smile.
"You're up early, kid," Arata mumbled, his voice rough and unsteady. "You better eat before Dad eats it all."
Jade's stomach twisted with a gnawing hunger, but the words in his mouth refused to come. There was nothing there but silence.
Instead, he slowly moved toward the small wooden bowl on the table, picking up a piece of bread with shaking hands. The bread felt too big in his hands, and the act of eating seemed almost mechanical—something that must be done, but not because he wanted it. He was lost in the motions, just as he was lost in this world.
Suddenly, something flickered in the corner of his vision. A thread. A thin, glowing line, like a whisper of light, stretched across the room. It pulsed gently, almost imperceptibly, as if it were waiting for him to notice it.
Jade's gaze followed the thread. His heart raced, a strange, unsettling feeling rising within him.
The Eidolon Thread. It was here. He could feel it—this invisible force that tied him to something greater. It was a pull, deep within him, beckoning him to something he couldn't quite comprehend. Something was waiting.
A chill ran down his spine as the thread seemed to sway, as though responding to his attention. It was as if something in the fabric of this world had shifted. The thread glowed brighter for a moment, then slowly dimmed. But Jade knew, deep in his soul, that it was only the beginning.
He didn't need words to understand. He didn't need to speak to hear the call. It had always been there.
Jade looked back at Arata, his silent brotherly gaze lingering for a moment. There was a deep, unspoken bond between them, one that needed no words. And even though Arata appeared oblivious to the world around him, Jade knew he would need him. They would need each other to survive the forces that were about to shake this world to its very core.