The world was burning.

  The sound of splintering wood echoed all around as flames devoured the small village, reducing homes to skeletal ruins. The acrid stench of charred wood and iron clawed at my throat, mingling with the metallic tang of blood. Shadows leapt wildly in the light of the inferno, twisting into monstrous forms as the fire roared and howled in the night.

  “Come on!” The small girl gripping my arm yanked me forward, her voice breaking with desperation. Her tiny fingers dug into my wrist, trembling violently as though sheer terror gave her strength.

  I stumbled, my boots slapping against the uneven, mud-soaked ground. The of wet earth beneath my feet mixed with the chaos—the of flames, the distant of villagers, and the unmistakable of swords.

  I wanted to run faster, to pull the girl to safety, but my legs felt heavy, like I was wading through quicksand. My lungs burned, my chest heaving as if the very air was on fire. I didn’t know where we were going; all I knew was that we had to keep moving.

  And then, we stopped.

  A wall of soldiers emerged from the flames, their dark silhouettes sharp against the burning backdrop. Their metal armor gleamed with a sinister glow, and their swords——slid from their scabbards, dripping crimson.

  I froze. The girl whimpered, her grip tightening like a vice.

  “No…” My voice was barely a whisper, drowned by the fire’s deafening .

  The nearest soldier stepped forward. His blade gleamed wickedly, and in one swift motion, it came down.

  Pain exploded in my arm as the world tilted, my arm held by the little girl was cut off. My scream tore through the air, though it felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. My vision blurred, but I saw the girl collapse, her small body crumpling to the blood-streaked ground.

  Another blade followed, cutting through the smoke-filled air. My knees buckled, my body giving way. The world spiraled into darkness, the only sound the relentless of the fire consuming everything.

  "GAH!"

  I jolted awake, a guttural gasp tearing from my throat.

  My breath came in short, panicked bursts as I clutched my arm. The phantom pain of the blade lingered, sharp and vivid. Sweat dripped from my forehead, soaking my shirt and sheets.

  I scanned the room, my eyes darting from shadow to shadow. The only sounds were the faint of the clock on the nightstand and the muted hum of cars outside the hotel window. Slowly, my breathing steadied, though my heart still thundered in my chest.

  “That dream again,” I muttered, my voice hoarse.

  Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I planted my feet on the cold, tiled floor. My head dropped into my hands as I tried to shake off the lingering sense of dread.

  “It’s just a dream.”

  But it didn’t feel like just a dream. Not this time. The heat of the flames, the girl’s trembling grip, the searing pain in my arm—it all felt too real.

  "Tch, fuck it."

  I made my way to the window, desperate for something familiar to anchor me. With a sharp pull, I flung the curtains open, expecting to see the bustling streets of Salvador.

  Instead, my breath caught in my throat.

  "What...."

  The world outside... wasn’t mine.

  Buildings stood crooked and uneven, their structures crafted from strange, otherworldly materials. The streets bustled with people, their clothing an eclectic mix of eras and styles, none of it making sense. Vendors sold glowing trinkets, their stalls manned by creatures straight out of a storybook—scaled, feathered, monstrous.

  “What the hell...?” I whispered, gripping the window frame until my knuckles turned white.

  The street signs weren’t much better. The language seemed familiar but twisted, as if someone had rewritten reality with a half-formed understanding of Earth. Even the air felt alien—thick and buzzing faintly with some unnameable energy.

  Then it hit.

  A gust of wind rattled the window, sharp and sudden. Instinctively, I raised my arm to shield my eyes. When I lowered it, the world beyond shimmered, flickering like a broken projector.

  I blinked.

  And it was gone.

  Salvador returned. Ordinary. Loud. Chaotic. Cars honked, pedestrians scrolled through their phones, and nothing seemed out of place.

  My legs hit the edge of the bed as I stumbled back, collapsing onto it. “I’m just... exhausted. I haven’t been sleeping right. That’s it.”

  But even as I sat there, my hands pressed against my face, the images lingered, seared into my brain.

  “Get it together, Zane,” I told myself, barely above a whisper. My voice wavered.

  The day began the way it always did—routine and unrelenting.

  I stepped out of the cramped hotel room just as the first pale light of dawn broke over the city and headed into the narrow streams behind. The air was cool, carrying a faint bite that crept through my thin jacket.

  "Hu... it's quite chilly today," I muttered, rubbing my hands together for warmth.

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  The uneven pavement scraped against the soles of my boots as I walked, each scuff echoing in the silence. The shadows of rusting streetlights stretched long across the narrow streets, mingling with discarded trash.

  "How do people even live like this?" I murmured under my breath, eyeing the growing piles of waste by the alleyways.

  The warehouse loomed in the distance, its dull gray walls a constant reminder of another grueling shift ahead. Inside, the familiar of metal crates and grunts of tired workers filled the air, mingling with the sharp scent of cleaning supplies.

  "Zane, you’re late." Raul’s sharp tone cut through the noise as I stepped inside.

  "Two minutes, Raul."

  "Two minutes too many." He waved a clipboard in my direction before turning back to the line of workers.

  Grabbing a crate, I muttered under my breath, "Always the same with him."

  The hours blurred together, the weight of each box pressing down on my already sore shoulders. The occasional joke from the guys kept the monotony at bay.

  "You good, kid?" Mark glanced over as I heaved another crate onto the stack.

  "Haven’t slept much," I shrugged. "But hey, caffeine exists for a reason."

  "Caffeine and stubbornness," Mark chuckled. "Best combination there is."

  By the time my shift ended, my shirt clung to my back, and every muscle screamed in protest. I changed my clothes, grabbed my bag and headed straight for school, ignoring the ache in my legs.

  "Finally," I sighed, stepping outside and breathing in the slightly fresher air. "When will I be free from all this? When will I be able to live like... I don’t know, a normal high schooler?"

  I glanced at the sky, the pale morning light now giving way to the full glow of the sun. There was no time to stop.

  "Hope everything goes well like usual."

  Yeah... I shouldn't have jinxed that.

  "Fucking hell, just when school, work, and other bullshit weren't enough, I got myself into a fight just to save someone from getting robbed."

  The rain began as a soft , droplets tapping gently against the pavement. It was almost calming at first.

  But within moments, the sky opened up, and the light drizzle turned into a relentless downpour. My shirt clung to me like a second skin, water streaming into my eyes and blurring what little I could see of the street ahead.

  Each step felt heavier than the last. My soaked shoes squelched with every movement, and the sharp ache in my skull refused to fade. The empty street stretched endlessly before me, broken only by faint, flickering streetlights that barely pierced the darkness.

  "Fucker really hit me with a brick straight to the head, and I was tryna be fair by going in with hands, tch."

  When I finally reached the bridge, exhaustion dragged at me like lead weights. I barely noticed the uneven ground until my foot caught on a loose stone.

  Pain exploded in my ankle as I hit the ground hard. For a moment, I just lay there, gasping as cold rain poured over me, mixing with the blood dripping from my head. Gritting my teeth, I forced myself to move, dragging my aching body toward the shelter of the bridge.

  I collapsed against a jagged, moss-covered rock beneath it. The cold, damp surface pressed into my back, offering little relief. Water trickled down from the bridge above, pooling at my feet. My breath came in ragged gasps as the throbbing in my ankle grew worse.

  “Perfect,” I muttered, my voice hoarse and barely audible over the relentless rain. “Just what I needed.”

  I tried to shift, to ease the pressure on my injured ankle, but my muscles refused to cooperate. Every inch of my body ached, and the dizziness from the head wound made everything spin. I slumped back, letting the rain mask the steady drip of blood pooling around me.

  That’s when I noticed it.

  The rock beneath me was cold and unremarkable, or so I thought. But then it changed. A faint glow began to seep from its cracks, dim at first, like a flicker at the edge of my vision.

  I squinted, unsure if it was the rain playing tricks on me. The glow grew stronger, steady and pulsing, its pale light cutting through the darkness. Warmth spread from the stone, traveling up my back and into my chest.

  “What the hell…” I whispered, barely able to finish the thought.

  The air shifted. A strange energy filled the space around me, buzzing faintly like static. The ground trembled beneath me——and the rain seemed distant now, its drumming muted by the hum growing louder in my ears.

  I tried to move, to push away from the stone, but my body wouldn’t respond. It was as if I were rooted in place, held captive by the stone’s strange power. The glow intensified, blinding and all-encompassing, until everything else faded away.

  The world twisted.

  The rain, the pain, the bridge—they all dissolved into a swirling void of light and sound. My body felt weightless, floating in an endless expanse where time seemed to stretch and warp.

  Then the memories came.

  Not in flashes, but as a torrential flood. My life played out before me in vivid detail—every mistake, every triumph, every regret laid bare. Faces I had long forgotten stared back at me, their voices echoing through the void. I wanted to look away, to block it out, but there was no escape.

  The first memory hit me like a punch to the gut. I was ten years old, sitting on the stairs, clutching the banister as my parents shouted in the living room. My father’s voice, cold and sharp, cut through the air.

  My mother’s voice trembled, but she stood her ground.

  I remember the sound of the door slamming, the way the house seemed to shake with it. And then silence. The kind of silence that feels heavy, like the air itself is holding its breath. That was the night he left.

  The memory shifted, and I was back in middle school, standing in the hallway with my head down. The kids around me whispered, their voices dripping with mockery.

  I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. It wasn’t just the words—it was the way they looked at me, like I was something less. Like I was nothing.

  One day, after school, a group of boys cornered me near the playground. Their leader, a kid named Derek, smirked as he shoved me against the fence.

  I swung at him, but there were too many of them. They laughed as I hit the ground, my knees scraping against the gravel. I didn’t cry. Not then. But that night, I sat in the bathroom, staring at my reflection, wondering if they were right.

  The memory shifted again, and I was sitting at the kitchen table, watching my mother count the few bills she had left. Her hands shook as she dialed the phone, her voice soft and pleading.

  I hated seeing her like that. She used to be so strong, so confident. But after Dad left, it was like the light in her had dimmed. She worked double shifts, came home exhausted, and still, it wasn’t enough.

  One night, I overheard her crying in her room. I stood outside the door, my hand hovering over the knob, but I couldn’t bring myself to go in. What could I say? That everything would be okay? I didn’t even believe it myself.

  The memories kept coming, relentlessly. I saw my father again, but this time, he was smiling. He was standing in front of a big house, a woman by his side and a little girl in his arms. They looked happy—the kind of happy we used to be before everything fell apart.

  I remembered the day I found out about them. I was fifteen, walking home from school, when I saw his car parked outside a fancy restaurant. He was laughing, his arm around a woman who wasn’t my mother. I stood there, frozen, until he noticed me.

  For a moment, he looked almost guilty. Then he straightened, his expression hardening. he said, like I was a stranger. “

  I didn’t answer. I just turned and walked away.

  The final memory was the hardest. I was sitting in a lawyer’s office, my mother beside me. My father was across the table, his new wife sitting primly next to him. The lawyer was talking, but I wasn’t listening.

  my father said, his voice calm, almost businesslike.

  I looked at my mother. Her eyes were red, her hands clenched in her lap. She didn’t say anything, but I could see the fear in her face. The fear of being left alone.

  I said, my voice steady despite the lump in my throat.

  My father nodded, like he’d expected it. he said, and that was it.

  The memories faded, leaving me gasping for air. The glowing stone beneath me pulsed, its warmth spreading through my chest. I wanted to scream, to cry, to do something—but I couldn’t move.

  The faces of everyone I’d ever loved—or lost—flashed before me. My mother, worn down but still fighting. My father, distant and cold. The bullies who’d made my life hell. And me, always caught in the middle, always trying to hold everything together.

  I whispered, my voice breaking.

  Author here! It’s been a while, but I’m finally back with a new novel! Also, Veilbound Secrets will now be serialized on Genesis Translations. I’ve put even more effort into this story, and I’d love for you to give it a try—at least the first five chapters, which will be out by tomorrow.

  Hope you enjoy, and I’m excited to continue this journey with you!