Chapter 1
the transition from the victory over Elineixe to the strange, quiet roads of the south had been abrupt, leaving a hollow space in Corin’s chest that the morning mist could not fill. He walked with Kalei, May, Burt, and Vrartoward a distant horizon, their boots crunching on gravel that seemed to vibrate with a tension none of them could name.
Suddenly, the world tilted. Corin’s knees hit the earth as if the gravity of the planet had doubled. Beside him, May collapsed with a soft gasp, and Vrar went down like a felled timber.
"Hey, Corin! Come on, wake up!" Kalei shouted, his voice echoing as if from the bottom of a well. Burt lunged forward to help, but he too was seized by the unseen force, his massive frame hitting the dirt with a thud that shook the nearby trees.
Inside the darkness of his closed eyes, Corin wasn't in the road. He was standing in a fractured reality where May’s voice rang out like a bell in a storm. "I will not murder Corin!" she yelled, her eyes burning with a terrifying, crimson light.
"Yes, you will, if you know what’s good for you!" Corin heard his own voice reply, but it wasn't his—it was cold, ancient, and layered with a malice that turned his blood to ice. All three of them stood in a dreamscape of red-eyed shadows until the vision snapped.
Burt scrambled to his feet, his face pale with fury. "Leave Prince Conun! If you don't bring back Corin, I'll skin you!"
"Uhh, guys, come on!" Kalei pleaded, looking between his friends with distraught eyes.
Corin sat up, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs of the void. "Hey... what happened? Did I doze off?"
"Uhh, no. You, uhh... you visioned," Kalei said, wiping sweat from his brow.
Vrar stood up, smoothing his tunic as if nothing had happened. He turned to May with a dazed, pleasant look. "So, nice cafe, right?"
"What? You think you were having a cup of coffee?!" Kalei yelled, his patience finally snapping. "You were visioning the ET of this place! You were all like LARPING as different characters in some mad society!"
The argument was cut short by the sound of a cane tapping against stone. Max stepped out from behind a line of trees, his red-and-black blazer sharp against the green brush. "Hey, what’s all the ruckus?"
"They were visioning," Kalei said, pointing an accusing finger at the trio.
"No, we were getting a cup o' Joe!" Vrar insisted, though the crimson tint was only just fading from his pupils.
"Oh, whatever!" Kalei groaned.
They continued their trek until the town of Brandenburg rose from the plains. It was a peculiar sight—rows of vibrant orange houses fitted with stark green doors, looking like a forest in mid-autumn.
"Ah, yes," Max said, gesturing to the streets with a flourish of his cane. "I told you I’d meet you at Brandenburg. So, what do you think of it? It’s my old home."
Corin looked at the uniform orange paint and the repetitive green wood. "Well, it’s kind of bland, don’t you think?"
"No, I do not, Corin of-whatever-your-last-name-is!" Max barked, his pride clearly wounded.
"Sorry, sorry, Max. Your town is great," Corin muttered, though he kept his eyes on the ground as they found a local inn to rest for the night.
But sleep brought no rest. Corin awoke, yet he was not in his bed. He stood in the Dimension of the Void, the silent, echoing space between "here" and "there." Above him, a man floated in mid-air, draped in flowing red cloaks. Perched upon the man's shoulder was an eagle with a piercing, predatory eye that seemed to see through Corin’s very soul. A shiver traveled down Corin's spine, settling in his marrow.
The cloaked figure drifted toward him, and suddenly, the scenery shifted. Corin was floating on the balcony of a nightmare house. The walls were a jagged mosaic of black bolts and grey stone, and the scent of copper was heavy in the air—splatters of blood adorned the masonry like macabre art.
A man emerged from the interior, wearing a heavy robe as if he had just stepped from a bath, yet his skin was perfectly dry. He walked with a slow, deliberate gait into a steaming sauna. Corin felt his body move against his will, following the stranger.
The man removed his hood. He was ancient, his hair like a nest of silver snakes, his grey beard flowing past his waist. He wore a smile that suggested he was a man who lived for mischief and dark secrets.
"By sentence, a power is in you," the old man whispered, his eyes twinkling with an eerie light. "You shall be forever entitled to this power that I have gifted you."
Before Corin could speak, he fell backward, tumbling back into the void where the red-cloaked figure waited. The man with the eagle aimed his shoulder at Corin. The sky above tore open, and a colossal eagle with wings made of roaring, golden flames spiraled out of the rift.
Corin lost all control. He felt his hands begin to glow—the left one a brilliant, blinding white, the right a deep, sucking black. He was being dragged through the air by his own wrists, flying toward the flaming bird. He collided with the creature in a burst of powerful, immense light that threatened to unmake his mind.
With a gasp of pure relief, Corin felt the softness of a mattress. He snapped his eyes open, staring at the ceiling of the inn in Brandenburg, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
