Pain.Heavy. Suffocating. Wrong.
Something yanked him from the void and hurled him into a new body — too small, too fragile. Lucien felt like he was drowning in flesh that didn't belong to him.
It was dark. Pressed in on all sides. The air was thick with damp wood, wet cloth, and something rotting. Each breath burned his lungs like swallowing ash. His chest rose, but the strength behind it was pathetic.
He tried to scream.
Only a baby's wail came out.
High-pitched. Raw. Terrified.
No...That wasn't his voice. That couldn't be his voice.
His mouth moved again, desperate to form words. "Help...!"But what escaped was another helpless shriek.
Rain.He could hear it now — rain pounding against wood. A rhythmic pattering above him. Somewhere close. The air was stale but cool, and with every shallow breath, he could taste mud and smoke.
He tried to move — arms, legs, anything — but nothing responded. Just dull pressure. No limbs. No leverage.
I'm buried, he thought. Trapped.
He strained harder, panic rising in his throat. The effort only triggered another ragged cry, and his voice cracked under the strain. His eyes stung, and now they were leaking — tears he didn't remember commanding.
Then he felt it.
A presence.Distant, but growing. Moving closer.
Cold. Ancient. Curious.
It wasn't a warm light or angelic comfort. It was something... darker. And yet, it pulled at him. Not in fear — in recognition.
Lucien screamed again. Louder this time, throat torn and desperate.
And the sound of rain shifted.
Wood groaned. Something was being moved. Lifted.
Then — a flood of light. Blinding and blue.
Through wet lashes and blurry vision, Lucien saw it:
A cloaked figure, towering and featureless, silhouetted by pale lightning.
Massive. Too massive. But no — he was small. Tiny. Helpless.
The figure knelt, skeletal fingers reaching toward him. Lucien's chest heaved with one last, pitiful breath—
And then the world turned black again.