He woke blank but comfortable.  And didn't mind the empty scenery. The world consisted of two layers, a clear ocean he stood upon and a sky that extended beyond his sight.

He had nothing. Not a plan to follow nor a reason to push him forward. Not a person to recall, nor a feeling to force longing out of his heart. He had nothing. And that was why he was as comfortable. Light and free. a good feeling.

But, that wasn't the end. He knew that in this open scenery he was never alone, he could never be alone, never to himself.

"Our first meeting," the voice sharp and calm, like a winter breeze, sounded from behind. He carefully turned, his eyes half opened, and their dark eyelashes long enough to abstract some of his sights.

His eyes trembled. What was this figure in front of him, on the same ocean he stood upon?

The figure looked like a sketched shadow, creasing with faint lines of white, like moving threads through his body. What body? Was that mantle-like figure even considered a body?

His figure was tall, probably his height. With nothing else. No legs or hands. No nose or mouth. Not even a neck.

His head directly connected into a dark mantle shaped body, wide in the base and a little tightening upward. Just shady. A dark figure, with moving glowing-white threads through it, and a pair of white circles shaping his eyes, was really shady.

"Is it not our first meeting?" the figure said, no lips there to move but its voice clear and sharp.

The youth's eyes glided down half-opened, and he stared at his palms. They weren’t normal.

His fingers elegantly long and slim, but his fingertips were sharper than normal, and his long nails were dark.

"I don't know," said the youth, turning his hand and observing it. "I know nothing. But I feel familiar. As if what I know had been installed way back before I was born, knowledge with no particular source. Empty knowledge."

"Like what?" the figure tilted his head like a snail.

"Like a sun I had never seen, or snow I had never felt. I knew how to longe, but didn't know why, I knew how to love to care to miss, but how had I known them, wasn't clear."

"Knowledge with no mentor?"

"Yea, something like that."

And a silent wind breezed. They didn't know what to say, how to act, or how to open a conversation. They knew that what they wanted to know didn't end here, but both of them didn't know how to voice it out, it required some kind on bravery. And the one who held that feature was the figure.

"Me too," the figure said, slowly approaching. "I don't know why. But I think we should be one. I believe I could help you, no, help us. Because I believe we are one."

The youth's eyelids creased up. What to say, how to answer… how to convey those feelings into words. Just like the sun, he shadily knew what this figure was. Or at least how this figure was. But before he could squeeze his lungs to say a word.

The sky broke like glass showing darkness behind. The sky pieces dropped on the ocean and slowly dived in, and the whole world disappeared when a voice echoed around, saying, "he's waking up."

******

He was scared. Like a squirrel hearing the lighting for the first time, he could only tremble when the dark took over the place. The figure disappeared along with the world. And he became a moving figure in a world of darkness. Floating around looking for a way to ease his freaking heart.

There was a strange voice echoing, for a boy, not old enough to have a sharp voice. Maybe twelve or elven years. The voice was talking to a girl. Telling her that a man's eyebrows had just flinched.

"Believe me, he's waking up."

"Roar, my little excited brother. He has been asleep for five years now. I don't think he will ever wake up."

"Why? He was injured, now he's healthy. He might wake today."

Voices kept quarreling. The youth pondered about the man they talked about. Sleeping for years, he thought maybe that was him. After all, for a sleeping person, it's not hard to dream about darkness like this.

But something wasn't as logical. He could hear those voices and could feel his body. He just didn't know how to move it. When he tried to open his eyes, his smallest toe and his stomach moved. Something wasn't as planned. When he clenched his right hand his penis moved, when he tried to raise his leg, his shoulder moved.

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"Look! He's doing strange things again!"

The boy yelped, and scurried steps opened a squeaking door and said: "just stop nagg-"

The girl stopped midway. "He's really moving."

Yea, that man seemed to be him. But he didn't know how to move his own body. Everything wasn't in its normal functionality. As if his organs and limbs decided to take the order of one another.

He tried on, moved each part of his body, each internal muscle he could, and finally, he was able to find the trigger that moved his eyes.

Lights alighted the place. His eyes burn, but he for a second forgot how to close them. One of his eyes was controlled by his jaw and the other by what? He didn't know, it was a muscle in his abdomen. Apparently it would take a long time to get used to his new body.

The lights of the chamber were compressed in small crystals, most of them were light blue, but two at the heads of the room were shining white.

The ceiling was rocky, and the walls as well. As if this room was dug inside a mountain.

Remembering how to close his other eye he closed it. And started a trial and error, ignoring the voice around him, for a week, or two, or maybe three. He didn’t really know. But it was more than a week for sure.

He was able to know how his body worked.

He bolted up. looked at the walls, and before noticing the door something shattered on the ground. He looked and it was a boy, his face stiff and mouth gaped and under him a crockery piece and a wet ground. Between the pieces a piece of fabric as well. He knew the boy was cleaning the sweat from his body recently due to his over-reactive movements.

"You woke up!"

"Thank you," the youth said, bending slightly down. "I’m sorry for causing trouble."

The boy's hair was red and covered one of his eyes, he looked slender and gentle, his red eye showed deep energy as if it was a flame.

The boy stuttered as if he didn't know how to translate his feelings into words. His lips kept trembling for a few seconds and when he gave up, he left the room calling his sister, the girl that kept calling him dead thinking he wasn't aware.

He stood, jumped on his toes a few times. Stretched both arms up and flipped in the air.

Good.

He mastered his body.

He looked around, noticed a mirror hanging into the wall, approached, and observed his figure. His eyes didn't flinch, but he was satisfied with his looks. His dark hair was shoulder-length, lightly curled like ocean waves, and tidy. Long black eyes that normally looked half opened and tired, and swollen eyelids as if he hadn't been asleep for years. He didn't like the tired look on his face but thought it wasn't bad. He wore a short-sleeved thin white v-shirt and his grey pajama short enough to not cover his ankles.

He was tall, which was good. Maybe a little over six feet. His shoulders broad compared to his small waist and, even though it didn't look defective, he leaned a little toward the thin side.

And then he stiffened. Smoke slowly floated out of his fingertips, weightless, flying around him as if he was his mother. His reflection showed that the smoke even came out from the sleeves gapes and the v-collar. The smoke danced gently around him before dissipating as new smoke took its place.

"What's this!" a girl shouted and he turned around. The girl had light blue hair that covered one eye. Her apparent eye was light blue, sharp but calm like an ocean wave, and standing one by one- the girl and the boy- looked like a twin.

Both of their eyes wide and frozen the sibling awed his smoke.

"It's okay," he said, looking at his fingertips, and his thin lips curled into a gentle smile. "I don't think this smoke will cause problems."

But the girl exasperated look still didn't change. She looked at her brother and said: "Roar, let's wait for our parents, for now, he's dangerous."

Roar looked at him, the youth only smiled, such a person could never be bad. Such a gentle, tired, and sad smile… could never be bad.

But in the end, Roar followed his sister and the wooden door squeaked closed.