A faint warmth kissed his skin as consciousness flickered back to life. Dull voices hummed around him—muffled, distorted, like echoes underwater. The scent of burnt herbs lingered in the air, mingling with the smell of salt and faint ozone.
He opened his eyes slowly. A dome of translucent crystal arched above him, etched with glowing runes. Several figures cloaked in deep green robes hovered around, their palms glowing as they chanted in a language he couldn't comprehend. Their voices were soothing, rhythmic.
He blinked again. Their mouths moved, but none of it made sense.
"Wha… where…" he murmured, trying to sit up. A sharp pain seared through his temple.
"Careful!" One of the figures steadied him.
He winced, clutching his head, trying to process the barrage of stimuli. Foreign words floated around him. One of them handed him a bowl of water, and he took it gratefully. As he drank, they continued speaking—slowly now, gesturing, almost like they were trying to teach him their words.
The absurdity of it all crept into his mind. Was this some weird dream? A fevered hallucination?
He attempted to mimic them, failing miserably and making one of the younger mages snort with laughter. Another tried to correct him by pointing at objects and saying their names.
"T-thank… you?" he muttered.
Then, without warning, his head throbbed violently.
A whisper.
"…Ro*..***…"
He gritted his teeth as the room twisted and blurred. When he opened his eyes again, he understood the language. The world had tilted on its axis.
"I see… you've awakened."
A soft but confident voice cut through the commotion. A girl with striking red hair stepped forward, dressed in deep violet robes laced with silver. Her eyes, the color of molten gold, held quiet power.
"I'm Iris. Second in command of this city, Ashmere. And the strongest mage around—after my brother, that is," she said with a proud smile. "We found you unconscious near the Ocean Shore. Been three days."
Roa—still dazed—nodded slowly.
"I don't remember… anything."
She frowned slightly but composed herself. "That's alright. Happens sometimes when people come through… storms."
"What should we call you?"
He paused. "Call me… anything."
Another whisper in his head.
"…Roa… your name is…"
"Roa," he blurted, eyes widening. "I like that name. Call me Roa."
Iris studied him, intrigued. "Roa, huh? Suits you. Strange… but it has a good ring to it."
She examined him for a moment, eyes narrowing. "Your hair—it's black."
He looked at a reflection in a glass shard nearby. True enough. A rare, dark black.
"There's no one here with black hair. That's… unheard of."
---
That evening, Roa wandered through Ashmere. It was a floating city built into the cliffs overlooking the sea, its streets alive with magic. Lanterns floated freely. Little children practiced elemental tricks with wooden wands. Merchants sold shimmering potions and enchanted trinkets.
He watched in wonder.
At one stall, a little boy tried to levitate a plum but ended up making it explode, covering his face in purple juice. Roa chuckled for the first time.
Back at the sanctuary, he lay on the bed they had provided.
He murmured in his sleep.
"No… please don't… no…"
In his dream, darkness swallowed the world. Smoke. Screams. Blood pooled in the streets. A castle stood burning in the distance. A broken sword lay at his feet. Bodies of people he didn't recognize—yet felt familiar—littered the floor.
He turned.
A girl with red hair—eyes dim—lay motionless beside him.
His reflection in a shattered mirror grinned back… cloaked in darkness.
He jolted awake, drenched in sweat.
"Just a dream… right?" he whispered.
---
The morning was loud. Through his window, he saw the city square filled with energy. A crowd gathered, cheering. Blades clashed. Magic burst like fireworks.
A tournament.
He stepped outside and pushed through the crowd. In the center, a young man stood with smug arrogance, holding a glowing blade. One by one, he defeated challengers with ease—blending swordplay and magic.
"That's Rian," someone said nearby. "Vice Captain of the guard. He is one of the strongest around here."
Rian smirked. "Another failure. Anyone else?"
A smaller opponent collapsed before him. Rian nudged him with his foot. "Next time, don't waste my time, weakling."
Roa stepped forward.
"Is that how you treat others?"
Rian turned. "And who are you, stray? Think you can lecture me?"
He raised his blade, glowing with runes.
"Let's see if you bark louder than you bleed."
As he swung, Roa didn't move. In an instant, the blade shattered mid-air.
Gasps echoed. No one believed what they saw. It all happened in an instant.
Even Roa blinked in disbelief.
From the edge of the crowd, Iris arrived, eyes wide.
Iris (internal): "That movement… he took the blade mid-air and redirected it with surgical precision. I barely caught it, and I'm trained to read high-speed combat. Just what are you, Roa?"
Rian roared in anger, charging his final spell.
"Then die like the weak!"
The blast hurtled toward Roa and the boy he shielded. Iris screamed. "ROA!"
But the magic dispersed into nothingness as Roa stood tall, his hand stretched out.
No wounds. No burns. Nothing.
Silence.
Iris ran to him. "Are you alright?"
He nodded, stunned.
Rian was dragged away, shouting curses.
Iris stared at Roa. "Your hair… your powers… they're beyond anything I've seen. That wasn't shielding. That was negation."
He stayed silent.
Roa (internal monologue): "What am I? That voice… those dreams. That power… Is it a gift? Or a curse?"
The dream flashed again—now complete. He stood atop a mountain of corpses. Friends. Allies. Iris. All fallen by his blade.
He sat upon a twisted throne as flames devoured the world.
Roa: "If this is the future… then I have to change it. No matter what."