A raven flew over a city, its wings beating silently through the air. It flew lower, and the view of the city became clearer and more detailed. The buildings collapsed, the streets were full of rubble, and people were lying dead on the ground.
The darkness enveloped the city like a living thing. It seemed to twist and coil as if it were alive. A face emerged,a woman with long black hair and a red dress. She looked around as if searching for something. Her eyes were as black as coal, and they seemed to look straight into one's soul.
The raven flew closer, and the woman looked up. Her eyes met... something. The world around her began to blur, and his vision became increasingly indistinct.
Suddenly, everything was silent. The flames went out, the people stopped screaming, and the darkness receded. The woman stood alone in the middle of the street, her eyes fixed on... something.
Then everything went black.
Corin woke up.
He took a deep breath and sat up. His heart was racing, and his head felt foggy. He looked around, but everything was silent and dark. Corin was lying in his bed, in his small room in the slums. It was just a dream, he told himself. But the dream felt so real, so vivid.
He opened his eyes and groaned. Another one of those dreams. He couldn't even get a decent night's sleep without being haunted by fire and destruction. He ran his hands through his hair and sat up. His head felt foggy, and his eyes burned with fatigue.
What was wrong with him? Why was he having these dreams? He didn't know the answer, but he knew it wasn't normal. He wasn't crazy, was he? He thought of all the other times he had had similar dreams—the woman with the black hair and the red dress, the city that was on fire. It was as if his brain was trying to tell him something, but he didn't understand what.
The night air was cool and damp, and he took a deep breath to clear his thoughts. He had to pull himself together. He had to stop letting himself have these dreams. But how? He didn't know.
Corin looked at his watch and cursed silently. It was still early, and he had to get up soon to do his daily chores. He lay back down and closed his eyes, but he knew he wouldn't fall asleep again. The images from his dream were too vivid, and his thoughts were too confused. He lay there, staring into the darkness, wondering what the day would bring.
The room was small and cramped, with walls covered in damp mold and old plaster. The wooden bed Corin had slept on was old and weathered, with a straw mattress full of holes. An old, calcified washbasin stood in one corner, with a small, round basin and a tap that only dripped. A broken mirror hung on the wall opposite the bed, its glass chipped and milky.
He went to the sink and began to wash himself with the little water he had available each day. The cold water helped to keep him awake, and he felt a little better as he washed his face. He dried himself off and looked in the mirror.
His reflection stared back at him. A slim but defined body, marked by years of poverty and poor nutrition. His muscles were not bulky, but wiry and functional, like those of an animal adapted to the harsh conditions of the slums.
His face was angular but quite attractive, with black, medium-length hair that was combed back. Individual golden strands were easily recognizable. His eyes were dark and deep, marked by the things he had already seen in his short life.
He looked at himself, and for a moment, he felt like a stranger. Who was this boy staring at him? What had he done to become like this? He shook his head and turned away. It wasn't important. Today was a new day, and he had to seize it to survive.
In another corner of the room was an old, wooden box that served as a closet. It was empty, except for a few old, worn-out clothes that Corin no longer wore. A few loose papers and an old, broken knife lay on the floor, next to a small, empty pot that served as a cooking vessel.
The door to the room was old and squeaked when it was opened. It led out into a narrow, dark hallway that led to other similar rooms. The smell of mold, sweat, and decay hung in the air, and the only illumination came from a small, dirty window high up on the wall that let in a little daylight. He got dressed, took his knife, and put it in his pocket. He didn't know what the day would bring, but he was ready. He opened the door and stepped out into the cold morning air. The slums were slowly waking up, and he heard the first sounds of people getting ready for the day.
As Corin stepped outside, the chill of the spring morning hit him. The sky was still dark, but high above, he could make out eleven constellations looking down at him like cold, distant eyes. He sighed and lowered his gaze to immerse himself in the reality of the slums.
The city was a dense, gray labyrinth that stretched as far as the eye could see. The alleyways were narrow and cramped, and a perpetual fog hung over them, obstructing visibility and covering the air with a fine, cold veil. The houses were old and dilapidated, their walls covered in mold and moss, their roofs riddled with cracks and holes.
Corin lived in Ash Lane, one of the deepest slums in the city of Veyna. This was where poverty and misery were at their worst, and the air was filled with the stench of ash and smoke. Old oil drums were burning everywhere, spewing ash into the air and covering the sky with a gray, toxic haze. The people here were hard and merciless, and the violence was omnipresent. Corin knew Ash Lane like the back of his hand, and he knew that he always had to be on his guard to survive here. Nevertheless, he had not failed to notice that the violence had increased over the last few months. What had triggered it was beyond his knowledge.
The alleyways were narrow and labyrinthine, and it was easy to get lost. The houses were built so close together that they almost looked like one huge, dilapidated castle. The windows were often bricked up, and the doors were fitted with iron hinges and heavy locks. The people who lived here were poor and hungry, and they struggled to survive every day.
Corin knew Ash Lane, and he knew that he couldn't stay here for long. He always had to be on his guard to avoid being noticed by the wrong people. He always had to be careful not to get into the wrong alley or be attacked by the wrong people. Ash Lane was a dangerous place, and Corin knew that he always had to be on his guard here to survive.