Chapter 1: The Awakening

  The cold was the first thing Abel noticed. It seeped into his skin like icy needles, dragging him into consciousness. His breath came in shallow bursts, fogging the air as he blinked against the dim light.

  He was lying on a slick, hard surface. The faint glow of green light traced jagged lines across the walls, casting flickering shadows. Abel pushed himself up, wincing as his body protested. The floor beneath him was rough and cold, and a strange, viscous residue clung to his skin, reflecting the light.

  He glanced down, and his chest tightened. He was naked. Completely. Vulnerability surged through him like a wave, leaving him frozen for a moment. His arms wrapped around his torso instinctively, a futile attempt to protect himself from the chill and the overwhelming sense of exposure.

  “Where… am I?” His voice sounded foreign, raw and uncertain.

  Abel forced himself to his feet, his movements shaky. The greenish light pulsed faintly, illuminating jagged patterns etched into the walls. They shifted subtly, as though alive, but when he focused, they stilled. The room was circular, its walls smooth and seamless. No doors, no windows, no cracks to suggest an escape. Only the cold and the silence.

  He ran his hand along one of the markings. The grooves were shallow and uneven, their purpose incomprehensible. They pulsed again, brighter this time, and Abel flinched, stepping back. The glow faded almost immediately, leaving him staring at his own faint reflection in the slick floor.

  “This isn’t normal,” he whispered. The sound of his own voice unsettled him, its echo warped by the room’s curvature. He rubbed his arms, the chill gnawing at his focus. “Think. Focus. What do you know?”

  The answer was simple: nothing. His memories were fragmented, flashes of color and sound that dissolved the harder he tried to hold onto them. Faces blurred, voices faded. There was no anchor, no thread to pull. Just… this.

  The floor beneath him vibrated faintly, pulling him from his thoughts. Abel froze, his eyes scanning the room as the vibrations grew stronger. The light pulsed again, brighter, faster. A grinding sound echoed through the space, low and guttural, as part of the wall slid open.

  Abel took a step back, his pulse quickening. Beyond the opening was a corridor, faint lights blinking in rhythmic patterns. The air grew heavier, tinged with the scent of ozone. He stared at the passageway, his chest tightening.

  He had no reason to go forward, but even less reason to stay. The room offered no answers, only cold and confusion. Abel clenched his fists, his nails biting into his palms, and stepped toward the archway.

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  The corridor led to a larger chamber, its ceiling lost in shadow. In the center stood a pedestal, and above it hovered three glowing spheres. The air here felt different—charged, almost alive. Abel stopped at the threshold, his gaze flicking between the spheres and the walls.

  The spheres spun slowly, each on a different axis. Their light cast faint reflections on the floor, creating shifting patterns. Abel hesitated, his unease growing. The walls of this room were etched with more markings, but they were more intricate, their movements deliberate. The light pulsed in sync with the spheres, as though connected.

  He took a step closer, his bare feet sticking to the floor. The pedestal emitted a low hum that vibrated through his chest, and his instincts screamed at him to turn back. But where? To what?

  Abel squinted at the spheres. Their motion wasn’t random—there was a rhythm to it, a logic. He watched as the markings on the walls shifted, their glow intensifying with each rotation. His mind began to piece together the fragments. The spheres’ movements reminded him of something—diagrams, maybe? Physics? No… orbital mechanics?

  He frowned, his brow furrowing. “Vectors,” he muttered. The word slipped out before he could stop it. His gaze darted between the spheres and the walls, tracing the patterns. The movements weren’t just coordinated—they were dependent on one another.

  Abel approached the pedestal cautiously, his fingers hovering over the first sphere. Its surface shimmered faintly, warm to the touch. He adjusted its rotation, aligning it with the nearest wall pattern. A soft click echoed through the chamber, and the sphere locked into place. The markings brightened slightly.

  “Okay,” he murmured. “That worked.”

  The second sphere spun more slowly, its axis tilted. Abel hesitated, watching the wall patterns carefully. He adjusted the sphere, tilting and rotating it until the glow intensified. Another click. The hum of the pedestal grew louder, reverberating through the chamber.

  The third sphere was different. Its movement was chaotic, erratic. Abel reached for it and immediately pulled back as the hum turned into a sharp whine. The light on the walls flickered, and the room shuddered.

  “Not like that,” he muttered, stepping back. He rubbed his temples, his mind racing. The markings on the walls pulsed faster, their movements growing frantic. Abel’s eyes followed the rhythm, his mind latching onto the fleeting order beneath the chaos.

  He waited, his breath steadying as the patterns aligned for a brief moment. He twisted the sphere gently, matching its motion to the wall markings. The sphere clicked into place, and the room fell silent. The glow faded, leaving only the pedestal illuminated.

  With a soft hiss, a compartment slid open, revealing a small chest. Abel stared at it, his chest tightening. The ornate design seemed out of place in this cold, lifeless environment. He knelt, his hands trembling as he opened it.

  Inside was a leather-bound journal and a ring of polished metal. Abel picked up the journal first, its surface rough and worn. The pages were filled with diagrams and symbols, their meaning cryptic but compelling. One word stood out, repeated throughout: Mana.

  He slipped the ring onto his finger, its weight surprisingly light. The metal was cool against his skin, and as it settled, he felt a faint, almost imperceptible hum.

  The wall ahead slid open, revealing another corridor. Abel stood slowly, clutching the journal tightly. The ring felt like both a tool and a burden, its purpose just out of reach.

  “This place… doesn’t want me dead,” he muttered. “Not yet, anyway.”

  He stepped forward, his bare feet silent against the cold floor. The corridor beckoned, its lights flickering like distant stars. Whatever lay ahead, he had no choice but to face it.