John woke up as if from a deep slumber. His muscles felt tight and his skin itched with a mix of dirt and dried sweat. The bright surroundings made him dizzy despite a canopy of branches and leaves blocking most of the morning sun, and for a second he was confused. Where was he?

The last thing he remembered was meeting the man named Chronos, something so absurd that he was inclined to chalk it off to a dream. But the man’s parting words had somehow stuck with him.

Lead the fulfilling life I never had. Or die before I’m ever born.

John touched his face. He didn’t feel dead. In fact, he felt full of energy despite stiff muscles and a very dry mouth. He lay down with his back against the dirt. To his side was a grotesque head, the rest of its body a good two feet away.

It looked like something out of a zombie film…

John blinked and for a moment he saw himself fighting against the thing. A ghoul, he recalled the name. A person raised from the dead either by chance or foul magic. He remembered a rush of fear that was quickly replaced by confidence born out of constant training.

He blinked again and the memories drifted away as if just a dream.

A bloody knife lay discarded between the head and the body. Further ahead was a pair of steel swords half again the length of John’s forearms. They looked familiar, and the sight of them on the ground left him uneasy. Those were his weapons. They should never leave his possession.

After pushing himself up with surprising ease, John stood up and realized how small he now was, standing a foot shorter than he should.

“What the hell?” It was like being a child again and yet he didn’t feel weak. Picking up one sword, it was like holding a stick so light it was. If anything, he felt as strong as before, maybe even stronger.

Raising the sword above his head, John slashed down at the air as if swatting a fly. The attack felt awkward and unrefined, lacking strength. He tried again, this time slashing from right to left while rotating his hips with the motion. It felt more natural, like something he had actually practiced before.

Still not right. Again and again he attacked in a trance-like state, every new attempt bringing with it a new insight into how to improve his technique. When he finally came back to himself, John had both swords in hand and was breathing raggedly as if he had just run a marathon.

“Wow,” he muttered in between gasps for air. Back home, the only weapons he ever wielded were military ones, and armies had stopped employing swords for a while now. And yet, the blades in his hands felt more natural than any rifle ever did.

Almost regretfully, John sheathed the weapons and then took note of his surroundings. From the moss growing at the base of the trees, the north should be to his right side while his home was to the east. How and why he knew that were only a passing thought in his mind. Like his body, these memories weren’t his own.

He started walking, hoping to eventually remember clearer instructions than to just go east when he glanced at a shovel discarded on the ground. Buried seven feet with their grotesque head detached from the body.

John turned towards the dead ghoul and then back at the shovel, feeling compelled to bury it. It was on par with how he felt when he saw the swords on the ground, an urge deep inside telling him to do something.

This will take a while. With a resigned sigh, he grabbed the shovel and put himself to work.

***

The sun was only a few hours from setting for the day when he finally arrived in front of a small house with a small window to the right of the door and a short chimney leaking white smoke. Home.

After finally burying the ghoul, John began heading east. His initial worries about getting lost were fortunately unfounded as the farther he went, more of the environment he recognized until he finally arrived at an overgrown footpath. From there it wasn't long until he was nearing the outskirts of the forest. From there he found his way to a small hill and finally the house at the top.

The smell of warm food assaulted his nose before even opening the door, making his mouth water. Only then did he realize how hungry he felt.

The inside of the house was small in a cozy way, with a door on each wall. The one across from the entrance led to the outside while the ones to the side led to the bedrooms. Against the wall to his right was a dinner table. On top of it were plates of salted jerky, cheese, bread, a jug of water and a fruit basket, all overlooked by three statuettes in a line. Two male figures flanking a woman.

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Embers glowed-orange in a fireplace at the center of the room and wisps of smoke drifted up to the ceiling. A thick pot hanged above the fireplace while an ebony-skin woman removed various cuts of meat from inside with a long fork and gathered them in a plate.

“Welcome home,” she said, her voice like a key that opened the floodgates of his mind. For a second he stood completely paralyzed while his mind was assaulted by a surge of childhood memories from his current childhood.

Old memories remained clear in his mind, but their emotional significance faded away. Lucas became a boy John grew up with; Jayden and Alicia just a couple that raised the two for a few years; and McKay, the man he once hated to the point of murder, a colonel and nothing more.

It was like someone was rewiring his brain, erasing old connections and creating new ones. After what felt like an eternity, Jon was sure of one thing. Dene Yao, the woman in front of him, was his mother. And he was her son, Jon Yao.

“De… Mother… I’m back,” he said.

She smiled, something he knew she rarely did. “I see that.” To his even bigger surprise, her smile became a fraction wider. “And I also see you’ve changed,” she said as she settled the plate of meat on the table.

Jon blinked.

How did she know? Some mind-reading magic perhaps?

Before he could ask what she meant, his mother produced a scroll and offered it to him. “Read it.”

He recognized the scroll as one of many his mother wrote to teach him spells. It was filled with a collection of strange glyphs and runes. But for the first time in his life the symbols seemed to make some sort of sense.

“Akular,” he read the first set of symbols out loud and the next one immediately changed in his mind. “Soth damen kali…” each new word serving to decipher the meaning of the next and he felt like he was pulling on a chain one link at a time.

I call upon the element of darkness to make the incorporeal tangible and restrain…

He couldn't stop uttering/reciting the words. In fact, he never even considered doing so as reading the scroll became his only worry in the world.

…Shadow Bind!

Only after reaching the end of the scroll did he come back to himself, and it left him so surprised that he almost didn’t notice the shadows seething underneath.

“Congratulations,” she said. “Not even eleven years old and you’re already an Initiate.”

Her words barely registered in Jon’s mind. He was too focused on his own shadow. It was like discovering he had another arm. He willed it to move, and a shadowy tendril broke the surface, awkwardly emerging from the floor. It was half as thick as his wrist, soft to the touch but stretchy like rubber. “How long does it last?”

“Depends, but usually a couple of minutes.”

Jon felt like a child who had just received the most interesting toy ever, and he wanted to find out everything about it. “Does it have to be connected to a shadow to work?”

“It makes the spell more stable so you should try and avoid direct lights.” His mother pulled up a chair and sat down by the table. “The food’s getting cold.”

“There’s no direct light inside people. Can I use it on–”

“No, you can’t directly affect other living beings like that. The only exceptions are healing spells and they are compatible with neither Shadow nor Fire. Now stop talking and sit down to eat.”

Jon was far from being satisfied with just that, but he could wait for a few minutes. And the food did look appetizing. He poured himself a large cup of water and downed it all in a single gulp. After pouring another one he turned his attention to the food, eating so much that his mouth couldn’t keep up and he almost choked.

“Slow down and chew, no need to rush.”

“Sowy,” Jon said while holding a piece of pork. “I’m starving.”

“I know. You haven't eaten anything since we left yesterday.”

Yesterday? Jon was surprised for a moment, but realized it had to be right. They parted around noon, but he woke up in the morning.

“I’ll let you rest today. Tomorrow we resume training. Now that you’re an Initiate you can start learning in full.”

Jon nodded with a mouthful of pork. He would prefer to start learning spells already, but he could wait until tomorrow. Besides, something she said caught his attention.

“How did you know I haven't eaten since yesterday?”

“I assumed. Ghouls can take away anyone’s appetite,” she answered and, for the first time in his life, he doubted her words. She wore a clean, dark blue tunic different from the green one she had the day before, but her black pants were sparsely sprinkled with dry and wet mud while the sole of her boots were caked in it.

“You were about done cooking the food when I walked through the door. Did you also assume when I would be arriving?”

His mother’s gaze betrayed no emotion. “You’re implying?”

“Nothing,” Jon said with a knowing grin. “Thanks for looking after me, though.”

She held his gaze for a moment before exhaling deeply. “You’re getting smarter.”

“I have a great teacher.”

Despite herself, the corner of her mouth curled up in another smile.

“Sorry you had to stay the full night watching over as I slept, though.”

“Far from being the greatest sacrifice I’ve ever made,” his mother said with a shrug, and Jon sensed a deeper story behind it. From memory he knew she was very selective with what she revealed from her past, so he refrained from further questions. For now.