Ash And Dust

Consciousness slowly rose from the darkness. Coldness gnawed at every part of my body.

When Kaelen began to feel his presence again, it was as if he had been torn from a deep void and dragged into the unknown. First, a weight pressed down on him, then a strange lightness followed. His mind was foggy, his thoughts scattered.

As his senses gradually returned, he realized that something was wrong.

His breathing was different. His chest wasn't as strong and broad as it once had been. The familiar power in his muscles, the solidity of the body shaped by years of battlefield experience... It was all gone. The unique warmth of his soul was absent.

He opened his eyes.

His pupils fluttered as they adjusted to the dim light. He saw a wooden ceiling; old, cracked, and smelling of dampness. He was in a small, narrow room.

The scent of old fabric and damp earth reached his nose. The bed beneath him was hard and uncomfortable. Kaelen took a deep breath and lifted his hands.

Slim fingers. Weak wrists.

His brows furrowed. These weren't his hands.

Panic settled over him like an avalanche. His heart started to race. With trembling hands, he touched his face. Sharp features, protruding cheekbones, but younger, softer... Kaelen's eyes widened. When he noticed the lightness in his chest and the weakness in his muscles, his breath almost caught in his throat.

"How... is this possible?" he whispered.

His voice was different too. Thinner, younger.

He probed his memory. The last thing he remembered... was the battlefield. Burning earth, the shrill screams cutting through the air. And that Demon. Standing before him with that arrogant smile.

Then...

That explosion of flames. Releasing all his power in one final strike. Even his own existence was consumed in the destruction. He had ended it all. He should have died.

But he hadn't.

"How? I'm still alive."

He asked, inwardly.

Kaelen took a deep breath. He focused all his attention on his inner power. He tried to feel the flames that had always accompanied him. That familiar warmth, the fire coursing through his veins...

Nothing.

His breath became irregular. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to go deeper. He strained his mind, desperate to feel even a spark of the flames. But in place of fire... he felt a breeze. Light, delicate, a passing gust of wind.

"What's happening?"

Kaelen's eyes snapped open.

He couldn't feel his mana core, which meant he wouldn't be able to use his magic.

Stunned, Kaelen pushed himself with his legs and sat on the edge of the bed. But his body was no longer the same. His muscle memory was deceiving him; with every movement, he realized how much weaker he had become. Slowly, he stood up, but his legs trembled with weakness. To steady himself, he leaned one hand against the wall.

In front of him, in the corner of the small room, stood an old, cracked mirror. Kaelen stumbled toward it. As soon as he looked at his reflection, something inside him shattered.

Jet-black hair. Pale skin, almost sickly. But most striking of all were those bright red eyes. His pupils hid an extinguishing fire that once burned brightly. This reflection did not belong to the Kaelen he knew.

He stared at the face that defied his own. He clenched his hands into fists, his nails digging into his palms, but he didn't care.

"How is this even a nightmare?" he whispered, his eyes glowing with rage as if they were about to burst into flames.

"How can I still be alive?"

"More importantly, who am I?"

For the first time, Kaelen felt powerless. The fierce warrior who had brought down great monsters was gone. The man who had fought against the magical catastrophe was gone too.

Now, this body was nothing more than a pale shadow of his former self.

The two red points in Kaelen's eyes began to glow.

"Tch."

So now what?

Kaelen stared at the mirror, overwhelmed with deep despair.