Luca clutched his head as the pain grew stronger. His breath felt short.
The memories started to pour in.
At first, they were his own.
He saw his mother, Rhea, sitting by the window in their small home, humming a tune as she mended his shirt. He remembered the long training days at the Drakemore estate.
He remembered joining the military. The days were joyful, even though they were filled with hardship. Like Finn, always laughing, making the day brighter. Luca smiled faintly. And finally, he remembered the tower, how strange and alive it had felt, how it had pulled him in.
Those were memories he knew. Memories that felt like his own.
But then came the others.
They were different. They didn't feel like his.
A new set of memories pushed into his mind, clashing with his own. These belonged to someone else. A boy named Henry.
Henry was cheerful. He had a bright smile, a loud laugh, and a kind heart. He lived in a small farming village, where his parents worked the fields. He had a younger brother and sister, Alec and Mira. The three of them would run through the fields, chasing bugs and kicking up dust, without a care in the world.
But when Henry turned ten, everything changed.
The rains stopped.
Not just for a few days. Weeks passed. Then months.
The fields dried up. Crops failed. The price of grain rose until families could barely afford a handful of rice. At first, it was manageable. Henry's family had some savings. But as the drought dragged on, things got worse.
The wells in the village began to dry. People argued, sometimes loudly, over who had rights to what little water remained. Fights broke out. Fear crept into their daily lives.
Henry's parents tried to stay calm. They did everything they could, gathering water from nearby villages, rationing what they had. One day, they went out again, telling Henry to stay behind and take care of Alec and Mira.
They never came back.
There had been a fight. There was a violent clash between villagers over water. Henry found out days later that his parents were among the dead.
He buried them with the help of a few kind neighbors. He didn't cry much. Not because he wasn't sad, but because he couldn't afford to. Alec and Mira needed him.
Their only hope was their grandparents, who lived in a city far away. Henry didn't know exactly where, but he'd heard the name before. With no other choice, he packed what little food was left and began the journey.
It was long and harsh.
He saw others along the road, families walking with tired eyes, refugees carrying their lives on their backs. Henry walked with Alec on one shoulder, Mira on the other. He gave them most of the food. When they asked if he'd eaten, he always smiled and nodded, even when his stomach twisted in pain.
Sometimes, the hunger was so bad he thought about eating dried grass or dirt. Anything to stop the burning.
But he kept walking.
One step. Then another.
Until, finally, they saw it. A wall in the distance. The city.
Alec and Mira cheered.
Henry didn't answer.
His legs gave out. His body collapsed.
He looked up one last time at their smiling faces, blurry and fading.
"Live well… both of you," he whispered.
And then he was gone.
Luca stood in that endless white space, tears falling silently.
He didn't know this boy. But he felt everything.
The hunger. The pain. The love.
Henry carried it all without complaint. In the end, he chose their lives over his own.
Luca touched his chest. His heart ached.
He had lived a hard life, too—his mother raising him alone, struggling to make ends meet. But this… this was something else. Henry had suffered much worse. And still, he had stayed strong.
"I'm sorry," Luca whispered.