The morning after my awakening, I wasn't sure what hurt worse — my head or my stomach. I woke up slumped against a crumbling brick wall, the world around me wet and cold. The rain hadn't stopped since I'd arrived, drizzling through the cracks in the roof above and soaking everything in its path.
I blinked against the water in my eyes and stood, the aches in my joints making every movement feel like a chore. My body had been reset, unrecognizable to my past self. Whatever life I had once known — everything from my age to my health — was gone. Here, I was nothing more than a commoner. I looked like I hadn't seen a decent meal in years.
As my feet touched the cobblestone street, I noticed the city stretching beyond the alley. Arinvale. It looked far grander than anything I'd ever known. Massive towers of grey stone jutted into the sky, some so tall they were lost in the mist above. Light flickered along the roads from streetlamps that hummed with magical energy. But the farther I looked, the more the grandiosity of the towers faded, giving way to the shadows of a forgotten city.
The slums.
I wasn't sure what I had expected. Maybe I thought I'd awaken in a lush garden or atop a glittering palace. But no. Here, in the forgotten corners of the world, I was nothing more than a castaway. The city was alive with strange, ethereal beauty, but there was a sense of decay as well, hidden in plain sight.
A few people walked past, heads down, wrapped in tattered cloaks. One man pushed a cart full of strange vegetables. An old woman sat by the gutter, muttering to herself, holding a basket of fruit that no one seemed to want. I could hear the faint rumble of distant conversations, shouts, and the sound of iron hitting iron — the clashing of blacksmiths in the forge. The deeper into the slums I ventured, the less I saw of the grand spires. Instead, I encountered narrow alleys and run-down buildings that leaned against each other, like tired soldiers struggling to stand.
I was a ghost in this world, unseen and insignificant.
Then I heard a voice.
"You're new, aren't you?"
I turned to find an old woman with a bent back, dressed in ragged clothes, staring at me from beside a fire. Her face was wrinkled, weathered by time and hardship, but her eyes... Her eyes sparkled with something more than age — something knowing.
She held out a bowl of soup, its smell rich and earthy, though clearly the product of meager means.
"Come, eat," she said.
I was hesitant, but my stomach betrayed me. I took the bowl from her, sipping the broth. It was warm, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt a flicker of comfort.
"I can tell you're a reborn one," she said, watching me carefully. "Happens every few years. You've got that confused look about you, like the others."
I frowned. "Reborn?"
She chuckled softly, a sound roughened by age and weariness. "The ones who die in their old world and wake up here. Sometimes they die fast. Sometimes they make it." She shrugged, her voice dipping into the low, heavy tones of someone who'd seen the worst and survived it. "So far, you've done better than most."
I looked at her, confusion flooding me again. "What is this place?"
"Arinvale," she answered simply, "City of riches for the nobles, and of shadows for people like you and me. You can't even look at the towers without getting a headache." She grinned, showing a crooked smile. "And you, my friend, are right in the middle of it."
I was trying to process everything she had said when the world around me flickered. My vision wavered briefly, like a screen buffering a new reality. I stood and stumbled backward.
A sound.
A hum. It came from within my chest, reverberating like the deep rumble of a distant storm.
The old woman's gaze locked onto me. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I'd get out of here if I were you."
The air around me seemed to distort. I could feel something stirring in the back of my mind — magic. A flicker of the unnatural.
Then I realized — I wasn't just hungry anymore. I was hungry for power.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
Her face grew more serious. "You've got magic in you. That's why they're watching you. Don't think for a second that it's just because you've woken up here. Someone's going to come for you, sooner or later."
I didn't know what she meant by 'someone', but I could feel her warning settle like a stone in my stomach. This city — this world — wasn't kind to the weak.
"You better get your bearings," she continued. "You're not safe. Not here."
I wanted to ask more, but before I could, a loud, sharp voice called from the street.
"Oi, you!" A man, rough-faced and armed with a crude spear, was glaring at me. His posture was aggressive, but his eyes were calculating. "What are you doing here, rat? This is Watch territory."
I looked at the woman. Her eyes were still on me, but now there was something else. A flicker of recognition, or maybe sympathy. She lifted her hands, feigning innocence. "You'd best listen to him, boy. Keep your head down. Arinvale's not a place for newcomers."
The man began to advance on me, his spear held firmly in his hands. "You'd better move along."
I took a step back, but my body reacted before my mind could catch up. Magic surged through me, instinctual and raw. My fingers tingled. There was a crackle, then a sharp, electric blue flash from my hand — a bolt of energy that streaked past the man's face. It left him stunned for a moment, his eyes wide with shock.
I didn't wait for him to recover. With one last glance at the woman — who seemed to be watching me with a knowing smile — I ran.