(3rd POV)
Miami smelled like hot pavement, secondhand dreams, and cheap perfume.
Jordan Woods didn't mind. He called it inspiration.
His earbuds blasted half-finished beats as he zigzagged through the packed mall food court, a to-go bag in one hand, and a demo USB in the other like it was holy scripture. He'd been up all night mixing it. It was his best work yet — raw, soul-deep, slightly chaotic. Just like him.
He was supposed to hand it off to a local producer's assistant working out of a kiosk between the Auntie Anne's and a pop-up sneaker shop. That's where it was supposed to happen. Big break. Start of something real.
Or what he hoped it would be.
Instead, time fractured on a scream.
Three sharp pops. Gunshots. Not on the track. Real.
He turned.
Didn't even see the shooter, just a sharp pain in his chest and sense of disbelief.
And then everything went soundless.
Not quiet — soundless. Like someone had yanked the audio out of existence. The world folded in on itself in grayscale as blood bloomed against his shirt, and the bag in his hand dropped.
No, inner monologue, no last words, just silent realization and the creeping cold.
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The world didn't fade to black.
It ripped.
Like paper soaked in ink — torn down the middle. There was no tunnel, no light, no heavenly choir. Just... unraveling.
He fell. Or floated. Or both.
Somewhere, in the haze Jordan realized he was still aware. Not alive. But not gone, either.
That was the terrifying part
Then — a pull. Like gravity, but sideways. Like being yanked through a dream you didn't ask to be in. Stars flickered across a void that shouldn't exist. Something ancient cracked open in the dark, and he fell through it.
He awoke to starlight.
Cold. Blinding. Alien.
He sat up slowly. Limbs obeyed, but sluggishly, like a puppet on tangled strings. His hands weren't his hands — too large, skin dusky and etched with faint, glowing patterns that shimmered under the skin like constellations.
His breath steamed in the air.
"Where—" he rasped, voice deeper than it should've been.
Memory rushed in. But not his.
Visions. Ritual circles. Crystalline goblets. People with silver eyes and voices like wind chimes speaking in a language he'd never heard — but somehow knew. A child being laid gently into a bed of stone, arms wrapped around three gleaming objects pulsing with power. A whisper: "For the legacy. For the flame."
Then — darkness.
Then — him.
Jordan Woods, dead in a mall. Now... whatever this was. Whoever this was.
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(1st POV)
'What the hell?'
'Okay. Okay okay okay. Either I just astral-projected through my own death like I'm doctor strange, or I've hit some sort of cosmic afterparty with a weird thing for nature.'
I sat up, slow and groggy, like waking from a nap you never asked for. My body felt... wrong. Like someone had adjusted the settings on me while I was offline. Taller. Heavier. My joints moved like they'd been borrowed from someone who actually paid for gym memberships.
'Am I dead?"
'If I am, and this is heaven, it's got terrible customer service.'
My chest burned. Reflexively, my hand flew to where the bullet had hit — or should've hit. But there was nothing. No blood. No hole. No pain. Just a smooth chest, steady heartbeat... and a creeping sense of what the actual hell.
Then I saw my arm.
White lines — glowing faintly, like fading tattoos — curled across my skin. Little dots, too. Not random, either. Constellations.
'Did I... get drunk? Is this some posthumous rave? Please tell me I didn't get drunk and let someone give me hipster astrology ink. Oh god — what if I got diddled by a stargazer? Is that a thing?'
I rubbed my arms like I could wipe the markings off, but they pulsed gently under my skin, stubbornly real. The kind of real that came with consequences.
I exhaled hard. Breath fogged in the air.
'Cold. Right. I should probably figure out where the hell I am before the wolves show up.'
Slowly, I stood, wobbling slightly. The earth beneath me felt damp, but firm. Dirt. Grass. Roots. Nothing futuristic or shiny or flaming — just earth. Real, natural earth.
'What the hell were those visions?'
That thought didn't stay long as I finally decided to look up, and it was more than I expected.
Above me, the sky stretched out forever — a canvas of stars so dense and bright it looked fake. Like someone overdid the exposure settings on a planetarium.
'Alright. So I'm not in Miami. Not unless they really upped their tourism budget.'
trees surrounded me, tall and ancient-looking, branches swaying gently under a wind I couldn't feel. It was quiet. Not eerily so — just... peacefully vast. Like the wilderness was holding its breath.
'Okay. Recap: I died. Now I'm here. In a forest. Under a knockoff NASA sky. In a body that's not mine, with magical light tattoos, and no idea where I am.'
I laughed. Just a little.
It echoed, lonely and awkward in the dark.
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AN: Hey everyone, this is my first time writing on an online platform so I'm a little nervous. This Idea has been running in my head for a few weeks now, so I decided "You know what fuck paper" and here I am posting for the first time on an app I've had for a year now.
Let me Know how you guys liked it or hated it, and I am always open for some feedback, maybe even some ideas for worlds to go to.
So, as you probably know from the tags there will be no system, that means no gamer powers sorry. I just feel like gamer MC's get so separated from the worlds they go to just thinking of the people as NPC's (I'm looking at you abused and neglected)
So, I decided to have my (or OUR like reds say) MC come with his own abilities and power system, that means he will have to figure out how to navigate worlds that are not compatible with his powers and think outside of the box to beat some of them.
So, comment, react I like to see reactions to my story
BYE SEE YA NEXT TIME!!!!!!!!!!!