The silence was unbearable.
There was no wind, no heartbeat, not even the subtle whisper of breath. Nothing existed except for the soft, almost apologetic sound of faint waves brushing up against a broken body, aimlessly drifting on an endless expanse of water.
Shawn felt pain—raw, searing, and utterly unforgiving. It coursed through him like fire, reaching every nerve with cruel precision. It was the kind of pain that didn't scream—it howled. He tried to open his eyes, desperate for some glimpse of the world around him, but his body betrayed him. No matter how hard he tried, nothing responded. No light greeted him. Only darkness. A deep, suffocating void that wrapped around his senses and refused to let go.
Why… can't I see?
The question echoed in his mind, but no answer came.
Panic slowly began to claw at the edges of his mind. It scratched and scraped, trying to dig deeper, but his limbs remained heavy and unmoving. His chest burned with the ache of withheld breath, his throat felt like sandpaper, and his body was limp as if drained of life. And then, a realization crept in—quiet, but more chilling than anything he had felt before.
He was floating.
The water rocked him gently, almost like a mother rocking her child. But to Shawn, it wasn't comfort—it was dread. It felt like he was being cradled not by life, but by death itself. A death that waited patiently, gently guiding him to the edge. His memories began to flash before him—not just images, but sensations. He saw again the monstrous tentacles reaching for him in the dark, the crushing weight of the deep sea, and the cold, merciless abyss that had swallowed him whole. Even now, he could feel them—those things lurking beneath the surface, as if they remembered him too.
"No… no, not again…" he whispered, or at least he thought he did. His voice, if it had come out at all, was lost to the vast void surrounding him.
Every part of him begged to move. To fight. To swim. To escape. But there was no strength left. His muscles refused to obey. His will was there, burning, screaming—but the body it once ruled over was a crumbling ruin. He could only drift, helpless, as the sea decided his path.
Then, without warning, a sharp, stabbing pain lanced through his skull. It was not physical alone—it felt deeper than bone, as though his very mind was being ripped apart. Something was happening inside him. Thoughts that weren't his own began to surface, memories that didn't belong to him piecing themselves together like shards of broken glass. They forced their way into his consciousness: fragments from another life, from someone—something—else.
Two souls. Two histories. Two sets of memories. All clashing within one fragile vessel.
The pain was unbearable. It felt like his mind was being split down the middle. He wanted to scream, to release the torment building inside him, but his mouth wouldn't open. He was trapped inside his own body, and his consciousness flickered, fading in and out like a candle struggling to stay lit in the wind.
And then… silence again.
Time lost all meaning. He didn't know when he passed out. Minutes, hours—it could have been days. Everything faded into a black stillness.
But high above, something stirred.
A light—vivid and burning with an unnatural green glow—sliced through the night sky like a falling star, trailing emerald fire in its wake as it cut through the heavens. The world beneath it trembled, ever so slightly, and the air seemed to shimmer, vibrating with a strange hum. It wasn't wind, and it wasn't thunder. It was something other.
The glowing sphere descended rapidly, smaller than a moon but heavier than fate itself. It fell with purpose, heading straight toward the sea, toward the single fragile body floating between life and death.
And just before it would have struck, the sphere slowed. Its light twisted the air around it, warping space with its presence. The waves beneath it grew still, and even the breeze dared not stir. Then, like a breath held too long finally being exhaled, it touched down softly upon Shawn's chest—and began to sink into him.
A quiet pulse of green light rippled outward across the ocean's surface.
His broken flesh responded. Torn wounds sealed themselves. The bruises that marred his body vanished, erased as if time itself had turned back. The shallow rise and fall of his chest became steady, his breathing even. Beneath his closed eyelids, faint streaks of golden light flickered, timid at first—like dying embers finding air again.
Then, a voice spoke.
Soft. Feminine. Echoing not from the world around him, but from deep within his mind. There was something strange in her tone—playful, amused, as if she had stumbled upon an unexpected prize.
"Finally… after all these centuries, I've found a body worth taking."
Shawn's body twitched, reacting not with strength but with sudden tension, like something had taken hold of his very soul.
"Yes… this will do perfectly. Strong, young, and even a faint trace of divine energy. I'll make you my vessel and—"
But then, the voice faltered.
A golden light burst from his chest—bright and pure—clashing violently against the green glow. The sea erupted with energy, waves crashing outward in all directions. The air crackled, charged with unseen forces colliding in open war.
"What… what is this? This seal—who dares—!"
The voice no longer sounded amused. It was filled now with fury and disbelief. But her anger was swallowed by the growing radiance of the golden light, which wrapped around Shawn like a warm cocoon. It pulsed softly, steadily—like a heartbeat, strong and eternal.
Whatever power had tried to take him was being pushed back, its energy locked away, sealed deep within. Only the faintest whisper of it remained, coiled and seething, but powerless for now.
The green glow faded at last.
The ocean grew still once more.
And there he was—Shawn. Floating quietly under a sky filled with stars, his body whole again. His sight had not yet returned, but something within him had changed. The moment had passed, but its weight lingered, and the tides of fate had already begun to shift.
The sea carried him gently now, almost reverently, as if even it feared to disturb the power that had just descended upon its waters.
Far away, almost hidden in the haze of distance, the silhouette of land shimmered on the horizon. A vast, unfamiliar world waited ahead—silent, patient, and calling to him like the first breath of a new life.