On Earth…
Rain hammered against the empty streets, relentless and cold, as if the heavens themselves mourned him. Astrea ran, breath ragged, heart hammering like a war drum. Shadows clung to the alleyways, every corner a potential threat. Behind him, the heavy footfalls of fate silent, inexorable chased him.
A sharp pain lanced through his chest. He gasped, stumbling over slick cobblestones. The knife had found its mark, piercing his side, and the world began to tilt, color draining into gray. He fell to the ground, rain mingling with blood, choking back a scream.
"Not… like… this…" he whispered, voice hoarse, almost lost to the wind. His vision blurred. Every memory, every ambition, every tiny fragment of hope seemed to slip through his fingers. Darkness crept forward, cold and absolute.
And then
Light. Blinding, impossibly warm lightlike liquid fire pouring into the hollow of his chest. Pain twisted into sensation, fear into shock. His body disintegrated, the world of Earth dissolving around him, and in that instant, he felt another heartbeat a soul that was not his own merge with his.
Everything he knew ended. Everything was reborn.
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In Astoria…
Astrea gasped, eyes snapping open to a world he had never known. The rain smelled different sharper, alive with magic. The cobblestones beneath him were rougher, uneven, unlike the streets of Earth. He moved his hands and froze: long, calloused fingers, strong and precise. His reflection in a nearby puddle made him reel.
A young man stared back at him, handsome, fierce, with piercing dark eyes and white hair tousled by rain. There was defiance etched into his sharp features a life of hardship and crime but underneath it, a strange vulnerability.
Then came the memories not his own, yet searingly familiar. Locks picked, alleys run, guards bested, bruises endured, a life of survival cut short by cruelty. And now, that life had fused with his own.
Astrea's mind whirled. I am him… and yet I am me. His body, this boy's memories, the streets, the rain it all converged. Survival was no longer optional. Fate had handed him a second chance, and he could not squander it.
A faint golden light glimmered on the horizon, beyond the village hills. Something ancient, powerful, calling him. Somewhere, somehow, his destiny waited.
Astrea flexed his hands, feeling both bodies' strength. Earthly instincts blended with Astoria-born skill. A smirk tugged at his lips. He was alive. He was reborn.
"This… is my second life," he whispered.
And with that, he stepped forward, rain soaking his white hair, heart pounding, eyes fixed on the distant horizon. The journey of Astrea Starborne had begun.