"Wake Up"

The vacuum that had been inside me, it cracked like broken glass, shattering into pieces and drifting around me. Each shard was a life that I'd lived. In an instant, I thought that was it—that it was going to be a bottomless drop into nothing. But as the pieces collected, they morphed into a mirror, and in that mirror, I saw a self I did not know.

I reached out to touch it, my hand trembling, and the surface rippled like water.

I gasped, sitting up abruptly. My chest heaved, the air cold and sharp, burning my lungs as if I had been drowning. The world around me was unfamiliar, an amalgamation of contradictions.

A soft light filtered through the curtained window to illuminate a room-seemingly modern and ancient. Along the walls were shelves upon shelves of books in cracked leather and rolls upon rolls of scrolls etched with runes. A strange clock ticked on the wall, its face etched with symbols I couldn't decipher, yet below it, a digital screen flashed the year: 1990.

I lurched to my feet, legs unsteady, as if they belonged to another body. The wood floor creaked under my weight. Clothes that didn't feel like mine-fitted pants and a long coat with the smell of smoke and metal-encased me.

"Where am I?" I whispered, even my voice not sounding like it belonged to my ears.

The room seemed to be alive. Shadows danced across the walls, cast by a fire crackling in a hearth. Objects glittered in the dim light: a dagger with a jeweled hilt, an hourglass filled with silver sand, a collection of strange vials whose contents glowed weakly.

Upon a small desk, one thing really caught my eye: a book. Its cover was plain except for a single detail-my name.

Kael Asher.

I opened it hesitantly, the pages whispering as they turned. The words within told a story-my story. Every detail, every emotion, every death I had endured was written here. The fire, the mercenaries, my mother's hollow eyes.

And then, a passage I hadn't lived yet:

"Kael Asher awoke to a world unlike any he had known, where magic and machines intertwined. His destiny was unwritten, but his past clung to him like a shadow."

I closed the book with shaking hands and moved to the window. Pulling back the curtain, I saw a city that defied comprehension. Towers of glass and stone reached into a twilight sky, their peaks wreathed in mist. Strange machines roamed the streets below—vehicles that hummed with an eerie glow, their wheels suspended inches above the ground.

People moved with purpose, clad in modern suits mixed with cloaks embroidered in glowing runes. Some carried staffs that sparked with energy, while others wielded weapons that seemed to meld guns and swords together.

"This isn't real," I muttered, pressing my forehead to the cool glass.

But it all felt real-the hum of the machines, the faint murmurs of the crowd below, the weight of the book in my hand.

I turned back to the room, my gaze catching on a tall wardrobe in the corner. Something pulled me toward opening it. My fingers were trembling as I wrapped them around the ornate handle and pulled the door ajar.

Inside hung, neatly alongside cloaks and suits, a gun.

It was sleek, black, and etched with patterns that glowed faintly at my touch. The weight felt right in my hand, as if it had been made for me. Along with the gun was a holster and a belt filled with small, glowing vials.

"What kind of world is this?" I whispered.

"You already know," a voice echoed in my mind.

I froze, the gun slipping slightly in my grip. "You again," I said, my voice laced with bitterness.

"Always," it replied. "Do you understand yet, Kael?"

"Understand what?" I snapped. "That I'm a puppet in some cruel game? That my life isn't my own?"

The voice laughed softly. "Your life is yours, Kael. But it is also everyone's. You carry the weight of countless souls, their pain, their choices. And now, you have a choice of your own."

"What choice?" I demanded.

"To wake up fully, or to fall again into the dream."

The room grew dark, the shadows stretching and creeping in. My reflection in the window distorted, elongating into a thousand faces—some familiar, some foreign. Each one stared back at me, their eyes filled with sorrow, anger, or pleading.

"Why me?" I whispered, falling to my knees. "Why do I have to bear this?"

"Because you can," the voice said simply.

The faces started to speak, the voices jumbled into a cacophony of pain.

"You let me die!"

"Why didn't you save us?"

"You are the curse, Kael!"

I clutched my head, the weight of their words threatening to crush me.

In the sea of chaos, one memory rose-my mother's voice, soft and unwavering.

"Kael, you are stronger than you know. Never let the darkness take you."

I rose, my legs unsteady but resolute. The faces faded, the voices silenced. The shadows retreated, leaving me alone in the room.

I strapped the gun to my belt and picked up the book, the weight of it a reminder of everything I'd endured. The name on the cover-Kael Asher-felt both foreign and familiar.

I didn't know who I was in this world, or what it held for me, but there was one thing that was unmistakable: this wasn't a dream. It was something more.

I opened the door and stepped into the unknown. The air outside crackled with promises of danger and discovery.

The city in front of me was alive with possibilities, and I was ready for them.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I finally felt awake, more correctly-awake.

Yet, a voice still echoed in the back of my head-a whisper I couldn't silence.

What if this is just another dream?