Alex opened his eyes, gasping for breath. His body was covered in a layer of cold sweat that clung uncomfortably to his skin. His heart pounded in his chest with such intensity it felt as if it might burst free. He sat in the half-darkness for a while, trying to collect his thoughts. Only a faint glow of moonlight filtered through the barred window, tracing pale, jagged lines across the cell walls. Everything around him was shrouded in silence—only his uneven breathing echoed against the stone.
He looked at his hands. They pulsed with a strange warmth, as if fire flowed beneath his skin, waiting to be released. He clenched his fists, but the heat didn't fade—instead, it intensified, as if something inside him was trying to break free. Nervously, he swallowed, feeling the dryness scrape against his throat. Carefully, he reached for the clay bowl of leftover water beside his bedding.
The moment his fingers touched the cool surface of the bowl, something changed. For a split second, a faint, gentle glow of the purest green enveloped his hands. Alex blinked rapidly, nearly dropping the bowl. The green light vanished just as suddenly as it had appeared, leaving him disoriented, his heart pounding even harder than before.
"Am I dreaming?" the thought flashed through his mind.
He took a deep breath and drank a sip of the lukewarm, stale water. It tasted bitter, but brought a measure of relief. He set the bowl down and instinctively glanced across the cell—at Lyra.
The elf lay peacefully on her bedding, her back to him, hair spread across the pillow like a cascade of brown silk. She breathed steadily, calmly. She looked free of worry, so unlike the fierce, proud warrior he'd come to know by day.
Alex couldn't take his eyes off her for a moment. She was beautiful, though he'd seen her before. Now, however, in the stillness and half-light, she seemed different—more fragile, more real. Something tightened in his chest at the sight.
Ashamed of his thoughts, he quickly turned his gaze away, leaning back against the cell wall. His hands still trembled slightly, as if the tension inside him hadn't yet found release. He closed his eyes, trying to regain control of his body and mind.
Then he heard a voice.
At first, it was a faint whisper, barely perceptible—like wind rustling through leaves. But it grew in strength, as though someone or something was approaching, slipping directly into his mind. It was a woman's voice—gentle, yet filled with unimaginable power.
"Alex..." the voice whispered, calm and steady like swaying trees. "You're beginning to awaken. This land needs you."
His eyes shot open, searching the cell for the source of the voice. But there was no one there. Lyra still slept, unaware of anything. The voice came from within his own mind, like an echo of something older than time, ancient and mysterious.
Before he could react, images flooded his vision. Sudden and intense—etched in fire upon his mind.
He found himself once again in a primeval forest, where towering trees stood like ancient giants and their roots dug deep into the moist earth. The scent of moss, leaves, and soil filled his lungs. Green surrounded him—vivid, wild, almost aggressive. He could feel the power of this place, a primal energy that pulsed all around him—but then everything began to change.
The light vanished, replaced by a thick, suffocating darkness. Burning trees. Cracked ground. Air choked with smoke and the stench of blood. He heard screams—terrified, anguished. He saw people—mages and warriors—fighting desperately against twisted, shadowy creatures with red eyes, long fangs, and sharp claws. Demons.
The images were horrifyingly vivid—bodies torn apart with ease. But also courage. The courage of those who fought, even in the face of certain death. Alex watched, helpless, unable to move, even though every fiber of his being wanted to join the fight. He knew it was just a vision, but it felt all too real.
"Don't fear what you see," the voice whispered again, calm yet firm. "What was forgotten will return. And you will be the one who must help them."
"Who are you?" he murmured, his voice dry with fear and awe.
"I am Gaia," the voice replied gently. "The one who awakened you. Guardian of balance. Mother of the forest that now awaits your aid."
Alex felt the warmth in his hands pulse stronger, as if the energy he had sensed longed to be released. He looked at his fingers—once again, a faint green glow shimmered around them, lingering a little longer this time before fading into the darkness.
"Don't resist it," Gaia continued. "You are the beginning of a new cycle. It is time to discover who you truly are."
The visions vanished as quickly as they had come. Alex was back in the dark cell, trembling, his mind filled with images that felt unreal—yet disturbingly true.
He sat in silence for a long time, trying to make sense of what he had just experienced. He glanced at Lyra—still sleeping peacefully, unaware of anything. And he felt a sudden urge to go to her, to tell her everything. But he knew it wasn't the right time. He could barely understand the visions himself, let alone explain them to someone else. Besides… could he trust her?
He lay back on his bedding, but he didn't sleep again. He stared at the ceiling, where the moon cast pale, mysterious light across the stone. In his thoughts, the voice of the goddess echoed still—soft, but resolute, speaking of destiny he had only begun to uncover.
"The beginning of a new cycle," he whispered, as if trying to give those words meaning.
His hands no longer pulsed, and his body was slowly calming—but his mind was working at full speed. He didn't yet know how to make sense of it all, didn't know what choices lay ahead—but one thing was clear:
His life had just changed.
Whatever came next, Alex knew he would no longer be just a prisoner.
He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts slowly settle—but Gaia's whisper still lingered in his mind.