It was a peaceful morning like any other. The birds sang softly, and a gentle breeze stirred the dry leaves scattered across the ground of the municipal cemetery. The tombstones, arranged side by side, displayed the names and photos of those buried there. One of them showed the image of a young man with a calm expression and deep eyes. He appeared to be around 20 years old and wore a black coat that matched his felt half-top hat. The name on the tombstone read:
"Sirius Falkner, beloved son and friend, excellent marksman."
Sirius was the son of a middle-class businessman, Amadeus Falkner III, a well-known arms dealer in Mustang. From a young age, he served as a poster boy for his father's business due to his excellent marksmanship. However, he decided to forge his own path when he turned 19. He joined the Goldenbridge Institute of History and Archaeology, where he studied ancient artifacts and the rich history of the country of Griffin.
Thump, thump, thump!
A muffled noise echoed in the distance, and suddenly the cemetery's undisturbed air dissipated. The grave where Sirius was buried began to shift, and a dirt-covered hand emerged. The figure of Sirius rose from within his grave. His pale skin regained color, and the glow returned to his once lifeless eyes. He stood up, using the tombstone for support, as he tried to regain his senses.
‘What the...?!’ The young man's expression was one of horror, his eyes wide open, and he was breathing heavily. Being underground was a suffocating experience, even more so when he had just regained consciousness.
Sirius vaguely remembered being injured and quickly looked down at his own chest. Beneath his white linen shirt, a bullet wound the size of his fist was slowly closing, regenerating fiber by fiber from the inside out. He watched the scene in bewilderment. A few seconds later, with the wound fully healed, he looked around, but the sight of the tombstone bearing his name made everything much harder to comprehend.
‘Did I die!?’ ‘This can't be... I... am definitely alive,’ he thought, reluctant to accept the tragic realization.
He couldn’t recall how he had received that injury or why. But having been inside a grave moments before, he knew he had definitely died and, somehow, come back to life. There were flowers and farewell letters on his tombstone, some from relatives he hadn’t seen in years. This only confirmed what he already knew: he was dead. The smell of damp earth mixed with the unsettling sight of his disturbed grave made the scene even more macabre.
'Okay... I need to stay calm! NOW!'
His breathing was labored, and cold sweat trickled down his face. He breathed slowly to calm himself and wiped his forehead, regaining his composure. He stood up and, still shaken, carefully closed the grave, restoring the cemetery to its usual appearance. Sitting beside his tombstone, he reflected.
‘Showing up at home after having died... doesn’t seem like a good idea.’ ‘I have nowhere to go... So I guess returning to my dormitory at Goldenbridge would be the best decision, at least for now.’
He patted his pockets in search of anything that could help him in his current situation, but found nothing. However, he noticed that the pendant on the necklace around his neck had a crack running from end to end, ruining the curious pattern etched into the small silver piece. The necklace brought a sense of nostalgia; he hadn’t worn it in years, and that pendant was the last gift he received from his mother before she passed away. His mother had said the pendant had been passed down through generations in their family, and since he was her only child, it was now his turn to inherit it.
Sirius had never noticed before, but the patterns engraved on the pendant closely resembled those used by the so-called "primordials" in their ancient artifacts. His research at the Goldenbridge Institute focused on artifacts and symbols used by the primordials who, according to a few nearly indecipherable ancient records, possessed certain special "abilities" that allowed them to perform superhuman feats.
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He stared at the pendant for a few seconds. The small object emitted a faint reddish glow that slowly penetrated the skin of his hand. It was a dense and chaotic energy that caused Sirius slight discomfort, hiding the fact that the energy was subtly altering something inside him. The mysterious pendant stopped glowing, and Sirius placed it in his vest pocket.
‘Enough daydreaming. I need to get out of here as quickly as possible.’
Pushing aside thoughts on the matter, he stood up, adjusted his coat, and checked for any lingering traces of dirt. Sirius then made his way out of the cemetery, passing through the large iron gates and wishing a good day to the guard on duty. He noticed the guard frown for a second before returning the courtesy, and mentally chuckled.
Outside, the streets were wide and made of stone blocks, where public transport carriages traveled their usual routes while residents went about their routines, completely unaware of what Sirius had just experienced.
He had no money with him, so he would have to walk to Goldenbridge. He was in Morant, in the northern district of Mustang, while the academy was located in Iverson, in the southern district. It would be a long journey ahead, unless there was a quicker alternative.
Sirius was in a hurry. Now that he was "dead," he had only a few days before his dorm would be cleaned out and his research material collected. If he could get at least 3 cents, he could catch a public carriage and head straight to Goldenbridge. Walking down the wide street for a while, he adopted a mask of normalcy and spotted a small used clothing store where he decided to enter.
The store's interior was cozy. Passing through the glass door, he entered the 'Old Smith's Thrift Store'. Upon entering the store, he quickly removed his coat and held it in his left arm. The bell attached to the glass door alerted the shop owner that a customer had entered his establishment.
"A fine day to buy some clothes, isn’t it?" greeted the elderly shopkeeper, emerging from a door located behind the wide oak counter used for sales.
The man appeared to be in his sixties, wearing a linen shirt paired with a modest brown vest. His white hair was thin and disheveled, and his face was marked with wrinkles, showing his age. The man's blue eyes fixed on the customer who had just entered the store, while his mouth curved into a salesman’s smile.
"It is indeed a fine morning. But I’m not here to buy; on the contrary, I’m here to offer you some pieces. Would you be interested?" said Sirius, holding the coat in his hands.
The shopkeeper seemed to analyze him for a few seconds before extending his hands to take the coat the young man offered. It wasn’t a particularly heavy coat, but it was made by a skilled tailor using quality materials.
"You have a fine piece here, lad. I just don’t understand why you’re trying to sell it."
"You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, good sir... The truth is, I was robbed and I’m far from home. But don’t worry, it wasn’t anything serious. I just need a few coins to catch a carriage."
He had prepared this story in advance while walking to the shop. His initial idea had been to try and pickpocket someone, but he wouldn’t stoop to that level; he always preferred dialogue.
"Hehehe, a clever man. Tough as nails, I’d say! Very well, I’ll give you a drachma for this coat; is that enough?" added the shopkeeper with a smile as he extended his hand to close the deal.
"Alright, a drachma is more than enough," Sirius said as he shook the shopkeeper's hand.
Leaving the shop, Sirius clenched the drachma tightly in his hand. A drachma was equivalent to ten cents, so he could not only catch a carriage but also satisfy his hunger. His stomach growled, and his mouth watered at the mere thought of eating something; dying was quite stressful, after all.
"Just one more thing, sir: would you know where I could get a meal for less than a drachma?" he asked before leaving the shop.
"There’s a small bakery on the next corner. Maryanne’s cakes are excellent, and they should cost you only four cents. Have a good day, and may the goddess protect you!"
Sirius nodded gratefully and headed to the bakery, where he followed the old man’s recommendation and bought a few slices of cake. He casually asked at the bakery and discovered that it was Wednesday, March 21st. For now, the day of his death was still unknown, but just knowing what day it was brought him some comfort.
He then waited for a public carriage and boarded it, heading to the Goldenbridge Institute, where he planned to retrieve some belongings and research items, as well as rest and calmly assess his situation. Considering the passengers, the carriage would take at least twenty minutes to reach Iverson in the southern district, and Sirius would have to take a short walk to get to the academy. With the gentle rocking of the carriage and the stress of his sudden resurrection, Sirius couldn’t help but lean back in the carriage to sleep.