Eyes Snapped Open
He jolted awake, clutching his chest as a violent fit of coughing wracked his body.
Cough! Cough! Cough! Cough!
Each breath was a struggle. His lungs burned, as if they'd been doused in smoke. After what felt like minutes, the coughing subsided. He slumped forward, gasping, trying to steady himself.
His eyes darted around, wild and unfocused.
'Where... am I?!'
Huh?
Blinking rapidly, he finally noticed the statue looming in front of him: a faceless woman carved from marble.
Argh!
Ugh...
A flood of memories crashed into him—fragmented at first, but gaining clarity with each passing second. His expression shifted from awe, to confusion, then to cold dread.
Two things stood out in the whirlwind of recollection.
First, a warning.
Do not be swayed by the whispers of the moon…
For it will bring you nothing but misfortune.
The second was… Song of Solomon.
'"Song of Solomon?" he muttered. "A password? A name?"
He rose unsteadily, snatched the dusty cloth draped over the statue, and wrapped it around his bare shoulders. The cold air bit at his skin, sharp as needles.
He couldn't stay here. He had no weapon, no clue where he was, and the echo of that disembodied voice still rang in his head. Whoever or whatever it belonged to, this place was wrong.
As he reached the door, he hesitated and glanced back. The statue seemed to watch him, silent and eternal.
The voice had called her [ Humanity ] . The word stirred something buried deep within him, a longing or a guilt he couldn't name.
Maybe I'll understand when my memories return, he thought, and stepped through the threshold.
He emerged into a vast hall with a portion of it open to the sky. Moonlight spilled through a collapsed roof, bathing the ruins in pale silver. The place was more devastated than he remembered—walls blackened, stone charred and crumbling.
A fire, he realized. It must've burned through everything.
He turned toward a large arched doorway at the far end, the only structure that still resembled an exit and began walking, his steps steadier now. As he moved, his thoughts circled back to that phrase.
Song of Solomon… The word song suggested music, or ritual. Solomon—a person? A place?.
A sudden gust of cold wind cut through him, drawing a sharp breath from his lips. He pulled the cloth tighter, layering it against his skin to trap warmth.
So cold… He glanced back at the chamber he'd left. Despite its ruin, it had held the chill at bay. Whoever built it had known how to make stone breathe warmth. Even decay couldn't erase that craftsmanship.
Outside, moonlight spilled over wild, overgrown vegetation. Strange plants twisted up from the earth none he recognized.
Then again, he thought bitterly, I don't even remember my own name.
He sighed and scanned the ruins for a path forward. Somewhere beyond the moonlit wreckage.
And so he walked on.
Before long, another obstacle revealed itself, a wall of fog stretching in every direction. He turned left, then right, but found the same dense shroud enclosing the ruins. The entire place was sealed off, swallowed by mist.
He tilted his head back. Above him, the night sky was barren: no clouds, only a handful of faint stars and the pale, unblinking moon.
The moon…
It hung there, vast and perfect, a white jade lantern suspended in silence. The warning echoed in his mind: Do not be swayed by the whispers of the moon.
But hadn't it been a moonless night before?
Unease prickled at him. He didn't fully believe the mysterious voice, yet something inside urged caution.
Well… He sighed. If there's no other way, I'll cut through the fog. There's never an easy path, is there?
He stepped forward, one careful pace at a time. The world vanished behind him, the moon, the ruins, even the faint light of the stars until nothing remained but pale darkness.
Time dissolved. His footsteps echoed softly, swallowed by the mist. He couldn't tell how long he'd been walking; his legs throbbed, his body ached, yet hunger never came.
Strange… I should be starving by now.
He lifted his hand before his face, but the fog devoured even that. He could barely tell where his body ended and the mist began.
Then, slowly, the darkness began to thin. A faint glow spread through the vapor, turning it silver, then white. Hope stirred in his chest. He quickened his pace.
The fog peeled away at last, retreating in wisps that clung to his arms and shoulders like reluctant ghosts.
He stopped.
Before him stretched a narrow river. Beyond it lay a vast field of grass, golden-yellow with streaks of red, rolling endlessly toward the horizon. The first rays of dawn spilled across the land, bathing everything in soft fire.
He could only stare. Breath caught in his throat. For once, he didn't blame it for failing him.