Rain pelted Kael Vorn's face, each drop a frigid needle pricking his skin as he clutched a bouquet of lilies, their delicate petals wilting under the downpour. Elara's favorite flowers, chosen with care despite his meager paycheck. His boots splashed through puddles, the neon glow of the city's towering billboards blurring through fogged glasses. At twenty-eight, Kael's life was a grind—a desk job that barely covered rent, a marriage fraying at the edges. The weight of another late shift clung to him, the echo of last night's argument with Elara still sharp in his mind. They'd fought over money, over time, over the distance growing between them. But tonight, he'd fix it. The lilies were his olive branch, a small gesture to rekindle the warmth they'd lost. He had to believe it wasn't too late.
The city's pulse thrummed around him—honking cars, the chatter of late-night crowds, the sizzle of street vendors' grills. Kael's coat, threadbare and soaked, offered little protection. His fingers, numb from the cold, tightened around the bouquet as he climbed the cracked steps to their apartment building. The elevator was out again, so he trudged up five flights, each step heavier than the last. His heart thudded, not just from the climb but from a gnawing unease. Elara had been distant lately, her smiles rare, her eyes avoiding his. He shook off the thought. She was stressed, that was all. They'd talk, laugh, maybe share the cheap wine he'd splurged on last week. They'd be okay.
The apartment door creaked as he pushed it open, the scent of damp wool and leftover takeout hitting him. The living room was dark, the couch sagging under the weight of unwashed laundry. "Elara?" His voice echoed in the dim hallway, tentative, almost swallowed by the patter of rain against the windows. A soft laugh drifted from the bedroom—her laugh, but wrong, laced with a warmth she hadn't shown him in months. His stomach twisted, a cold knot forming. The lilies slipped slightly in his grip as he stepped forward, heart pounding like a drum in his chest.
The bedroom door was ajar, a sliver of light spilling into the hall. Kael's breath hitched. He pushed it open, and the world shattered. There was Elara, his wife of three years, her auburn hair cascading over the shoulders of a stranger. A noble, by the look of his tailored coat, gold embroidery glinting in the lamplight. His arm encircled her waist, their limbs tangled in a way that made Kael's vision blur. The man's lips curved into a smug grin, his eyes flicking to Kael with predatory glee. Elara's laughter cut deeper than any blade. "Oh, darling," she purred, not even turning to face him, "you were never enough."
The lilies hit the floor, petals scattering like broken promises across the worn carpet. Kael's chest heaved, rage and grief clawing at his throat. "Elara—" His voice cracked, a desperate plea tangled with a curse. She glanced over, her green eyes cold, devoid of the softness that had once greeted his terrible attempts at cooking or his shy compliments. The woman who'd laughed at his jokes, who'd curled up with him under a shared blanket, was gone. "Leave, Kael," she said, her voice sharp as glass. "You're nothing."
The noble's laugh was a low, mocking rumble. "Run along, little man," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. Kael's hands trembled, his vision swimming with tears he refused to let fall. The room spun, the walls closing in. He stumbled back, the noble's laughter chasing him as he fled into the storm. Rain mixed with the tears streaming down his face, burning hotter than the cold. He didn't know where he was going, only that he couldn't stay. The city blurred around him, a kaleidoscope of light and shadow. His heart screamed—betrayed, discarded, worthless.
He didn't see the truck until it was too late. Its horn blared, a deafening roar, headlights swallowing him whole. Pain exploded through his body, sharp and all-consuming. Then—nothing.
Darkness gave way to heat, a dry crackle like a furnace roaring to life. Kael's eyes fluttered open, his body aching against a cold stone floor. No rain, no city, no truck. Just a cavernous hall of crumbling marble, its walls etched with faded runes that pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat. Chandeliers hung overhead, their crystals dangling like broken teeth, casting jagged shadows. Kael's breath caught as he realized he was smaller, frailer—his hands were those of a boy, not a man. His fingers, pale and thin, trembled as he touched his face. A tattered cloak hung off his shoulders, heavy with dust, embroidered with a crest he didn't recognize: a wolf entwined with flames, its eyes glinting in the dim light.
"Where…" His voice was higher, unfamiliar, echoing in the vast hall. Panic clawed at his chest as he scrambled to his feet, heart pounding. The air smelled of dust and something older—magic, raw and humming through the stone. A mirror hung crooked on the wall, its surface cracked but reflective. Kael stumbled toward it, dreading what he'd see. A boy, maybe sixteen, stared back—dark hair matted with sweat, sharp gray eyes wide with fear, a face too gaunt to be his own. Yet it was him. The same jawline, the same scar above his left eyebrow from a childhood fall. But younger, weaker, wrong.
His mind reeled. This wasn't Earth. Elara's betrayal burned in his memory, her words looping like a cruel refrain: You're nothing. He pressed his palms against the mirror, willing it to show him something familiar, but it only reflected his stranger's face. The hall felt alive, its shadows shifting, whispering secrets he couldn't grasp. He was alone, lost in a body and a world that weren't his.
Footsteps echoed, heavy and deliberate. A figure loomed in the doorway, tall and severe, his black robes swallowing the light. His face was sharp, hawk-like, with eyes that gleamed like polished obsidian. "Kael Vorn," he spat, voice dripping with disdain. "The last of a cursed bloodline. And now, a Beast Tamer? You shame us all."
Kael's knees buckled, the name Vorn hitting like a blow. Beast Tamer? The words carried weight, a history he didn't know but felt in his bones. Elara's betrayal still seared his heart, her cold eyes haunting him. But this place, this man—they despised him for reasons he couldn't fathom. He clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice shaking but edged with defiance.
The man's lip curled, a sneer that cut deeper than it should. "Your uncle, Lord Vorn. Head of this rotting house." His gaze raked over Kael, lingering on the tattered cloak. "A Beast Tamer," he scoffed. "The gods mock us. You, boy, are a disgrace." He turned, robes sweeping like a storm cloud. "The servants will deal with you. Pray you survive the week."
The words landed like stones, each one heavier than the last. Kael sank to his knees as Lord Vorn's footsteps faded, the weight of two worlds crushing him. Betrayed by Elara, discarded by his family, reborn in a place that loathed him. His chest ached, her laughter echoing in the silence, blending with his uncle's scorn. He was nothing—again. But a spark flickered in his core, not despair but anger, raw and unyielding. He'd been broken once. Not again.
A soft thump broke his thoughts. In the corner, a small creature watched him—a bunny, its fur shimmering like starlight, eyes glinting with unnatural cunning. It tilted its head, sizing him up with a gaze too sharp for an animal. Then, impossibly, it spoke, its voice dry and sharp as a blade. "Late to your own rebirth, huh? Sloppy, kid."
Kael's jaw dropped, his grief momentarily forgotten. "What—who are you?" he stammered, scooting back on the stone floor. The bunny hopped closer, its movements deliberate, almost mocking. Its fur rippled, catching the faint light of the runes, and its eyes held a spark of something ancient, knowing.
"Name's Flick," it said, pausing to nibble a stray leaf with exaggerated nonchalance. "And you, Kael Vorn, are in way over your head. Welcome to Eryndral, land of monsters, magic, and miserable family reunions." It smirked, a grin that was equal parts mischief and menace. "So, what's a dead guy like you gonna do now?"
Kael's breath caught, his heart racing. Flick's words were a challenge, a taunt wrapped in a lifeline. Elara's betrayal still burned, raw and jagged, but this strange world pressed in, demanding he move forward. He didn't know who he was here, or why this talking rabbit seemed to know more than he did. But as he stared into Flick's glinting eyes, one truth settled in his gut: he wasn't nothing. Not anymore.
Kael staggered to his feet, the cold stone grounding him. The hall's shadows seemed to pulse, watching, waiting. Flick hopped onto a broken pedestal, its tail twitching. "You look like you've seen a ghost," it quipped. "Or maybe just your own funeral."
"Am I… dead?" Kael's voice was barely a whisper, the question absurd yet heavy. The truck's headlights flashed in his mind, the pain of impact lingering in his bones.
Flick tilted its head, considering. "Dead? Nah. Reborn's more like it. New body, new world, same baggage." It paused, eyes narrowing. "You're a Vorn, kid. That's trouble enough without the existential crisis."
Kael's hands shook as he touched the cloak's crest, the wolf and flames rough under his fingers. "Vorn," he muttered. "Beast Tamer. What does it mean?"
Flick snorted, hopping closer. "Means you're stuck with me, for starters. Beast Tamers bond with creatures like yours truly. Except most tamers get cool stuff—dragons, griffins, maybe a nice hellhound. You? You get a bunny." It puffed out its chest, mock-proud. "Lucky you."
Kael couldn't help it—a weak laugh escaped him, the sound raw and unsteady. Flick's sarcasm was a lifeline, pulling him from the edge of panic. "A talking bunny," he said, shaking his head. "Great. What's next, a singing bear?"
"Don't tempt fate," Flick warned, its tone half-serious. "Eryndral's got worse than bears. And you, kid, are at the bottom of the food chain." It hopped off the pedestal, landing at Kael's feet. "Stick with me, though, and you might not die tomorrow."
Kael's laugh faded, reality crashing back. He was alone, despised, in a world he didn't understand. Elara's face flashed in his mind—her cold eyes, her cruel words. He clenched his fists, the spark of anger flaring brighter. "I'm not dying," he said, voice low but firm. "Not again."
Flick's eyes gleamed, a flicker of approval. "That's the spirit. Now, let's get out of this creepy hall before your uncle sends his goons. Or worse, the maids." It turned, hopping toward a shadowed archway. "Come on, dead guy. Time to start living."
Kael hesitated, glancing at the mirror one last time. The boy staring back was a stranger, but his eyes held the same fire he felt growing inside. He didn't know what Eryndral was, or what being a Vorn meant, but he'd survived betrayal once. He'd survive this too. With a final glance at the scattered lilies in his memory, he followed Flick into the dark, the question burning in his mind: Who am I now?