The first thing Arin noticed was the grass—the way it bent with the wind, whispering in hushed tones beneath the quiet hush of a dimming sky. He blinked, the taste of metal still on his tongue, head pounding with the fading remnants of something too vast to name. The ruin was gone.
Not crumbled.
Not broken.
Just… gone.
"Arin," a voice called, muffled through the fuzz of dizziness. A shadow hovered above him. Slender fingers pressed gently against his temple.
He opened his eyes. Evelyne.
Her hair fell in loose strands over her face, violet eyes narrowed with fatigue and faint concern. She looked like she'd been through a battle, though her wounds were minimal—mostly scrapes and dried dirt. She was leaning on one leg, slightly stiff, but alert.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
"I… think so," he murmured, sitting up slowly. "Where are we?"
"I don't know," Evelyne replied, glancing around. "The ruin is gone. Completely. I woke up maybe ten minutes before you and there was nothing. Just this field."
They were surrounded by trees again, but not the same part of the forest. It was too open, too calm. The forest canopy arched high above them like a forgotten cathedral.
No vines. No shattered masonry. No statues or inscriptions. Only the grass and the sky.
And the rings.
Arin looked at his hand. The ring was still there, warm now, humming faintly beneath his skin. Not an illusion. Not a dream.
"I remember the light," Arin said. "When we put the rings on. Then nothing."
"Same," Evelyne replied, though her voice was distant. "Except I felt something before I passed out. Like the world cracked open around me."
A silence fell between them, thick and uncertain.
Then Arin exhaled slowly. "At least… no monsters."
Evelyne gave a half-hearted smirk. "That's one good thing."
They began walking toward the forest's edge, following their instincts more than any clear direction. The sun was low now, orange streaks bleeding through the trees. Night was falling fast.
"Maybe we were displaced," Arin suggested. "Spatial distortion—tied to the rings?"
"Could be. There's old legends of Samsāra-powered artifacts doing things like that. Hidden domains. Sealed echoes of lost time."
Arin nodded. "Artifacts… They're extremely rare. Especially those from the First Cycle."
They both looked at their hands.
The rings were not made of any known metal. They shimmered slightly in the dying light, hints of color that shifted with every breath. Arin's ring had a braided design—lines that weaved together and folded inward endlessly, forming an impossible knot. Evelyne's bore delicate etchings of flame, not wild but disciplined, flowing like calligraphy.
Ancient.
Living.
They pulsed with energy, not raw, but refined.
Arin frowned. "We should've examined them immediately."
Evelyne glanced sideways at him. "We passed out. Then woke up in the middle of nowhere. Not exactly ideal conditions for artifact study."
He couldn't help but laugh—a dry, breathy sound that tasted more like exhaustion than amusement. "Fair."
They walked in silence for a few more minutes, the woods pressing close again, familiar now. Finally, they spotted the outline of the main road. The old path leading back toward the tavern they had left behind.
"We're back," Evelyne said, relief softening her voice.
Arin rubbed his eyes. "Tonight, let's rest. Then tomorrow, we'll… look into the rings."
Evelyne nodded.
"Do you think they're dangerous?" he asked, half-wistful, half-curious.
She looked at the ring on her hand. "Maybe. But they're old. Not evil."
"Power doesn't have to be evil to be dangerous," Arin said, then added, "You… seemed different in the ruin. Like something was reaching out to you."
She paused, lips tight. "I felt that too. Something familiar."
They didn't press further.
Too tired.
Too confused.
And perhaps… too afraid of the answers.
---
About the Rings – Artifact Speculation (Internal Monologue)
As they walked, Arin's mind lingered on the ring.
In the study halls of House Devain, he'd read about Anādimān Artifacts—relics from the Pre-Samsāric era, forged not from metal, but from condensed beliefs, bound by conceptual law. The rarest ones were not tools but anchors—manifestations of memory, tied to truths long buried beneath the cycles of rebirth.
Such rings might:
Amplify Samsāra Shakti, allowing deeper access into the root system of one's past lives.
Bridge Dimensions, letting wearers momentarily step into timelines forgotten by the world.
Awaken latent abilities—not by granting new power, but by revealing what already exists, hidden.
But such gifts came at a cost.
Wielders of ancient artifacts were often changed by them—not just in power, but in purpose. A bond was a vow, and a vow in this world was no small thing.
He touched the ring lightly.
It didn't feel dangerous. But something ancient now traveled with them.
---
They reached the outskirts of the nearby village tavern by twilight. Familiar lanterns glowed in the windows, and the smell of baked bread drifted faintly through the trees.
Evelyne rolled her shoulders. "Let's not try to think too hard tonight. We're running on fumes."
Arin agreed. His legs ached. His mind buzzed with half-formed thoughts.
"We'll figure it out tomorrow," he said.
"After food. And sleep."
They stepped through the door of the tavern just as the stars above began to flicker into life.
And though the rings still pulsed quietly beneath the surface… for now, they said nothing more.