Vyan pressed a palm to his chest, as if sheer touch alone could tether his soul before it drifted too far. He felt the pressure settle behind his ribs, heaviness creeping into his lungs.
Breathe. Don't shatter. Not here. Not now.
Not in a world that didn't even know his name.
He inhaled sharply through his nose, a controlled effort, then another, slower one. Tall glass buildings sliced the sky above him, their reflections jagged and sterile. Voices layered atop each other in a language he understood, yet none of it felt like it belonged to him. Cars blared in the distance—metal beasts too fast, too loud.
He started walking, letting his feet carry him not out of purpose, but as a protest against inertia. Stillness was unbearable.
Eventually, the city unfolded open just enough to reveal a pocket of green—a weak imitation of calm. A yellow banner flapped overhead: Sunshine Park, it announced cheerfully, like the world hadn't just dropped him into a hell without maps.
