Awakening
The world is too loud.
The whisper of wind, the chirp of insects, the crunch of gravel beneath distant cart wheels—it all roars in her mind like crashing stars. Elaris stirs in a body that feels too small, like trying to trap a sea within a cracked glass.
Her fingers claw at the earth, nails caked in dirt, and she lifts her face from the dusty roadside. Her mouth tastes of iron and soil—blood, though she doesn’t know the word yet. She only knows that it is wrong. Something foreign. Mortal.
There’s a pain in her chest, dull and slow, like something heavy sitting on her ribs. She looks down—a body that is not hers. Pale skin marred by bruises. Tattered clothes hang from frail shoulders. Her golden eyes blink slowly, catching the glint of a dying sun in the distance. The sky holds no recognition for her.
She tries to speak.
Not words, not yet. Tone. Power. Breath.
A syllable of the Language of the First Light escapes her lips.
The leaves nearby quiver. A bird screams and flees.
The air turns sharp.
