Echoes of the Past - Part 1

When Lorian Nyx opened his eyes the morning after his university graduation, sunlight spilled across his room—but it brought no warmth. A hollow feeling sat heavy in his chest, as if something important had ended, yet nothing had truly begun.

His university years hadn't been filled with triumph or friendships. He was intelligent, quiet, different—and that was all the reason some people needed. Especially Max and his little circle. To them, Lorian was a perfect target. Every day came with subtle mockery, cruel jokes whispered in hallways, and moments that left invisible scars.

Even during the graduation ceremony, as Lorian stepped onto the stage, a wave of hushed laughter rippled through the back rows. He forced a smile. But deep down, he felt like a ghost watching someone else's life unfold.

That night, while others celebrated, Lorian climbed to the rooftop of his apartment, gazing out over the silent city.

"Everything feels fake… even me," he muttered.

Sleep didn't come easily. And when it did, the dreams came with it.

But this time, something was different.

A sky filled with strange constellations. Towering ruins covered in vines. Whispers in a language he somehow understood. A name, repeating softly like a heartbeat: Esensia.

"You were there… once…" a voice echoed in the void.

Suddenly, pain ripped through him. He couldn't breathe. Water pressed against his skin, filled his lungs. He was drowning.

And then—he woke.

Gasping, flailing, his body thrashed in freezing water. A river. He wasn't in bed anymore.

With the last of his strength, he crawled to the muddy shore and collapsed, coughing violently. Cold wind cut through his soaked clothes—jeans and a jacket that looked alien in this place. Around him were wooden houses with straw rooftops, dirt roads, and voices he didn't recognize.

This wasn't his world. It wasn't a dream either.

"Hey! Someone's here!" a voice called out.

Two figures approached—a young man and a woman. They knelt beside him.

"He's alive… but his clothes are so strange," the woman said.

"Who… brought me here?" Lorian whispered.

"We found you unconscious in the river," the man replied. "And I've never seen anything like what you're wearing. Not from any region of the kingdom."

Lorian hesitated. "I… I don't remember anything. I think I lost my memory."

The two exchanged glances. The woman finally nodded.

"My name is Elira. This is my brother, Kael. Come with us—you can rest in our cottage for the night. But you'll need to figure out your place soon."

That night, lying on a straw mattress under an unfamiliar roof, Lorian stared up at the wooden beams.

His heart beat faster—not with fear, but something else.

Esensia…

This was the world from his dreams.

Only now, it was real.

And deep down, despite the confusion, a strange thought whispered through his soul:

He was meant to be here.

But why?

And how… could he ever return?