Survival wasn't something Kai had ever thought much about. Not real survival. Paying rent. Keeping his phone charged. Avoiding another rejection email. Those were the survival challenges he knew.
This was different.
The forest moved around them like a living entity. Silver-leafed trees didn't just sway—they breathed. Literally breathed. Each metallic leaf pulsed with an internal rhythm that felt more like a heartbeat than simple vegetation. The ground beneath his boots seemed to shift, subtly, with each step—not unstable, but alive.
Lyra moved ahead of him with a grace that made no sense. Her body was compact, muscular, but she slipped between trees like water, the crystal staff on her back catching light in impossible ways. Sometimes blue. Sometimes silver. Sometimes a color that didn't have a name in any language Kai knew.
"The Broken Lands are close," she said. Not looking back. Not a conversation. A statement of fact.
Kai's feet were already aching. His convenience store uniform—now replaced by leather that felt like it had grown from his own skin—was damp with sweat. "What broken lands?"
Her laugh was like wind through broken glass. Sharp. Dangerous. "Everything is broken, Traveler. Worlds. Boundaries. Potential."
The deer-dragon creature followed them. Not behind. Not beside. Existing in a space that seemed to bend around its impossible body. Six eyes. Each one a different color. Each one watching with an intelligence that felt almost human.
"My mother would've loved this," Kai muttered.
Lyra's head turned. Precisely. Like a predator tracking sound. "Speak."
His mother. Diagnosed with stage four lung cancer when he was nineteen. Worked three jobs to put him through university. Told him constantly that he was meant for something more than restocking energy drinks and living in a cramped Tokyo apartment.
"She always said the world was bigger than what we see," Kai explained. "Thought I was just humoring her. Hospital medications. Pain management. But she'd talk about possibilities. Potential."
Something in the forest shifted. A sound—not quite a growl. Not quite a whisper. Something in between.
Lyra's tattoos—those living circuit patterns that traced her skin—began to pulse. Blue light. Soft at first. Then brighter.
"Potential," she repeated. "Interesting choice of word."
The deer-dragon creature took a step forward. Its scales shifted from emerald to midnight blue. One of its six eyes—the color of burnished copper—seemed to look directly into Kai.
"Something's coming," Lyra said.
The forest agreed. The metallic leaves vibrated. The ground pulsed. Something was changing.
Kai thought about his last conversation with his mother. Morphine drip. Hospital room. Her hand—so small, so fragile—squeezing his.
"You're meant for more," she'd whispered. "Don't you dare settle."
He hadn't understood then.
He was starting to now.
"What's coming?" he asked.
Lyra's smile was something between a warning and an invitation. "The first test."