As Ethan's eyes fluttered open, he found himself enveloped by an unfamiliar canopy of verdant foliage, the ancient boughs stretching out above him like a cathedral of nature's design. The air, heavy with the earthy scent of moss and loam, filled his lungs with each bewildered breath. Dappled sunlight, filtering through the dense tapestry of leaves, cast an ethereal glow upon the forest floor, creating a mesmerizing interplay of light and shadow.

"Where... where am I?" Ethan muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he slowly sat up, his mind reeling with confusion. The last vestiges of memory came flooding back—the treacherous slopes of the Patagonian Andes, the relentless wind, and the sudden, blinding flash of light that had engulfed him. He remembered the searing pain that had coursed through his body, the sensation of every nerve ending igniting in a symphony of agony.

However, he quickly realized, this... this was no mountain. No harsh, unyielding rock. No biting cold or whipping wind. Instead, he found himself surrounded by a lush, primordial forest, the very antithesis of the unforgiving landscape he had so recently braved.

As Ethan sat up, the vivid memory of the searing pain that had coursed through his body during the lightning strike resurfaced, causing him to wince involuntarily. The sensation of every nerve ending igniting in a symphony of agony was still fresh in his mind, and his body reacted to the memory as if it were reliving the experience. A shudder ran down his spine, and he took a deep, steadying breath to push the uncomfortable feeling aside.

As Ethan took a deep, steadying breath, he suddenly became acutely aware of the tattered state of his clothing. The once-sturdy fabric of his coat and pants, which had faithfully protected him from the harsh elements of the Patagonian Andes, now hung loosely from his frame, riddled with charred holes and blackened by the intense heat of the lightning strike.

The outer layers of his clothing, including his insulated jacket and weatherproof pants, had borne the brunt of the electrical onslaught. The synthetic materials had melted and fused, creating a grotesque patchwork of burnt fibers and gaping holes that exposed his vulnerable skin to the cool forest air.

As Ethan gingerly shifted his weight, he felt the fabric of his pants crumble and disintegrate beneath his fingertips, the charred remnants flaking away like ash in the gentle breeze. His jacket, too, had been compromised, the once-resilient zipper now warped and useless, the seams splitting open to reveal the singed lining within.

Each cautious movement sent a cascade of burnt fragments drifting to the forest floor, a somber reminder of the incredible forces that had surged through his body mere moments ago. The once-protective layers of his clothing now served as a fragile shell, barely holding together against the slightest disturbance.

Only the tattered remains of his boxers and shirt clung to his body, offering a meager semblance of modesty amidst the vast, untamed wilderness.

The once-sturdy fabric of his shirt was now riddled with charred holes, the edges of which were still smoldering slightly, a testament to the incredible energy that had surged through him. His boxers, too, had not escaped unscathed, the elastic band singed and stretched, barely holding the garment in place.

Ethan's eyes widened as he spotted his backpack lying a short distance away, partially hidden beneath a layer of fallen leaves. With a growing sense of urgency, he scrambled to his feet, ignoring the protest of his aching muscles as he stumbled towards the pack.

As he reached for the bag, his heart sank as he noticed the extensive damage it had sustained. The outer fabric was heavily charred, the once-vibrant colors now muted by the ashen residue of the lightning's fury. The straps hung limply, their strength compromised by the intense heat, and the buckles had warped and melted, rendering them useless.

With a mixture of trepidation and hope, Ethan carefully unzipped the main compartment of his battered backpack, half-expecting to find nothing but charred remnants of his supplies. To his surprise and relief, the contents, while not unscathed, had fared better than the backpack itself. The first thing he noticed was his trusty multi-tool, its once-shiny surface now tarnished and blackened, but still intact. "Well, at least this little guy survived," Ethan muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Next, he pulled out a compact cooking pot, its aluminum surface pitted and discolored from the lightning strike. "Looks like I'll be cooking my gourmet meals in style," Ethan quipped, turning the pot over in his hands. "Michelin-star dining, here I come."

As he rummaged further, Ethan discovered a few cans of food, their labels singed and peeling, but still legible. "Ah, the classic survivalist’s diet," he mused, reading the labels. "Beans, more beans, and... oh, look, a can of peaches for dessert. I'll be living like a king out here."

Ethan's fire-starting kit had also made it through the ordeal, the waterproof matches and flint striker only slightly worse for wear. "Well, at least I won't have to rub two sticks together," he said, tucking the kit back into the backpack. "I mean, I could probably do it, but why make things harder than they need to be?"

His hatchet, still securely fastened to the side of the backpack, had taken on a unique appearance. The wooden handle was scorched and splintered in places, while the metal head displayed an intricate pattern of lightning-induced Lichtenberg figures. "Damn, looking good, huh?" Ethan remarked, running his fingers over the etched surface. "I bet I could sell this as an artisanal, hand-crafted hatchet to some hipster back home."

As he continued to take inventory, Ethan found an assortment of other metallic items essential for his mountain climbing adventures. His carabiners and hook once brightly colored, now sported a mottled, burnt appearance, their surfaces pockmarked and distorted by the lightning's intense heat. "Well, they may not be pretty, but as long as they still clip, I'm not complaining," Ethan said, testing each one with a satisfying snap, but the rope next to it doesn’t looked like safe to use so say at least, so he won’t climb with them, that’s for sure.

His climbing helmet, while structurally intact, had taken on a decidedly post-apocalyptic look. The outer shell was streaked with black scorch marks, and the adjustable headlamp mount had partially melted, leaving the lamp at a slightly jaunty angle.

At the bottom of the backpack, Ethan discovered his trusty compass, its plastic casing warped and bubbled from the heat. To his relief, the needle still spun true, aligning perfectly with the north he had already deduced from the sun's position. "Well, at least something's working right," he muttered, a small smile playing on his lips. He held the compass up to the light, watching as the needle steadily pointed towards magnetic north. "Looks like you and the sun are still on speaking terms," Ethan quipped, feeling a tiny spark of optimism…

But then… reality came crashing back down like an avalanche.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

His momentary relief evaporated as he surveyed the rest of his battered gear. The scorched ropes, warped carabiners, and melted helmet flooded his mind with dollar signs. Even with his YouTube channel bringing in decent revenue and he is also working as a Mechanical Engineer, the thought of replacing everything made his wallet ache. "So much for that new camera I was eyeing," he grumbled, mentally kissing goodbye to his equipment upgrade plans. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply as the full scope of his predicament sank in.

Determined to gain his bearings, Ethan began to carefully observe his surroundings, drawing upon his extensive knowledge as a seasoned adventurer and survivalist. He noted the towering trees that surrounded him—ancient oaks, their trunks gnarled and weathered with age, and majestic pines that soared into the sky, their needles rustling gently in the faint breeze. The forest floor was carpeted with a thick layer of decaying leaves and rich, dark soil, suggesting a temperate climate with ample rainfall.

As he examined the foliage more closely, Ethan's brow furrowed in concentration. The leaves of the understory plants were broad and lush, reminiscent of those found in the dense woodlands of the northern United States or southern Canada. Ferns and mosses clung to the bark of fallen logs, thriving in the damp, shaded environment. The air itself felt cool and moist against his skin, a stark contrast to the biting cold of the Patagonian Andes… This…

"This can't be right," Ethan muttered to himself, his mind racing as he tried to reconcile his surroundings with his last memories. "I was in Patagonia, on the slopes of Fitz Roy. How could I have ended up in a forest that looks like it belongs in the northern hemisphere?"

A sudden, chilling thought struck him, and he felt his heart skip a beat. "Am I... dead?" he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "Is this heaven? Or some kind of afterlife?"

He shook his head, trying to clear the unsettling notion from his mind. "No, that can't be it. This feels too real, too vivid to be anything but reality. But then, how did I get here? And why can't I remember anything after the lightning struck?"

Ethan slowly rose to his feet, his legs shaky beneath him as he tried to make sense of his situation. He looked down at his hands, half-expecting to see some sign of the trauma he had endured, but there was nothing—no burns, no scars, no indication of the agony he had experienced.

As Ethan examined his hands, desperately searching for any clues that might explain his current predicament, his eyes widened in shock as they fell upon a peculiar sight. Running up the length of his arms, in stark contrast to his pale skin, were intricate patterns of blue lightning, etched into his flesh like a tattoo of nature's own design.

The marks were unlike anything he had ever seen before, their edges crisp and well-defined, as if painted by an invisible hand. The vivid blue hue seemed to pulse and shimmer in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the forest canopy, giving the impression of energy coursing just beneath the surface of his skin.

With trembling fingers, Ethan traced the path of the lightning marks, following their intricate curves and angles as they wound their way up his forearms, past his elbows, and onto his biceps. As he tilted his head to the side, he caught a glimpse of the same ethereal pattern snaking its way up the side of his neck and probably up to his face.

"What in the world?" Ethan muttered, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and trepidation. "These marks... they're like nothing I've ever seen before. It's as if the lightning left its imprint on my skin."

His mind raced as he tried to make sense of this new development, his thoughts swirling with a myriad of questions and possibilities. Could these marks be a side effect of the intense electrical discharge he had experienced? Or were they a sign of something more profound, a physical manifestation of the strange, otherworldly nature of his current situation?

As Ethan grappled with the implications of his newly acquired lightning marks, a sudden realization struck him like a bolt from the blue. "Liam!" he exclaimed, his eyes widening in panic. "Where is he? Did he... did he make it out of the storm?"

The memory of his faithful companion's sudden, panicked leap backward flashed through Ethan's mind, the image as vivid and unsettling as the lightning marks that now adorned his skin. He spun around, his eyes frantically scanning the surrounding forest for any sign of Liam, his heart pounding in his chest as the gravity of the situation began to sink in.

"Liam!" Ethan called out, his voice echoing through the ancient woods, the desperation in his tone palpable. "Liam, where are you?"

But the only response was the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze and the distant trilling of exotic birds, their melodies a haunting counterpoint to the deafening silence that followed his plea.

"Liam!" Ethan called out once more, his voice laced with a growing sense of desperation.

The thought of his friend lying injured and alone somewhere in this vast wilderness sent a chill down Ethan's spine. "I have to find him, I can't leave him out there…" he muttered, his jaw clenching with determination.

"This doesn't make sense," he whispered, his brow furrowing in confusion. "And if I'm here, where does that leave Liam? He wasn’t struck by the lightning… So he might be still around there."

The questions swirled in his mind, each one more daunting than the last. Ethan knew that he needed answers, not just for himself, but for Liam as well. "I have to find civilization," he decided, his voice growing steadier as a plan began to take shape. "If I can make it back to the nearest town or village, I can report what happened and get help searching for Liam."

Ethan's hand instinctively reached for the pocket where he usually kept his satellite phone, only to find the charred remains of his clothing. A frustrated sigh escaped his lips as he realized the device was likely lost or destroyed in the lightning strike. "Looks like I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way," he muttered, his gaze once again scanning the horizon for any signs of human habitation.

As Ethan trekked through the unfamiliar forest, his mind raced with thoughts of his current location and the best course of action to find help. "Judging by the dense vegetation and the types of trees around me, I must be somewhere in the Pacific Northwest," he mused, his eyes scanning the towering conifers that dominated the landscape. "If I can just determine which state I'm in, I might be able to head in the right direction to find a settlement or a ranger station."

He paused for a moment, his brow furrowed in concentration as he tried to recall the geography of the region. "Let's see... if I'm in Washington, heading west would take me towards the Olympic Peninsula and the coast, where I'm more likely to find towns or hiking trails. But if I'm in Oregon, heading east might lead me towards the Cascades and the more populated areas around Portland or Eugene."

Ethan's gaze drifted upward, searching the sky for any clues that might help him pinpoint his location. "If only I could catch a glimpse of Mount Rainier or Mount Hood," he muttered, frustration evident in his voice. "That would at least give me a general idea of where I am."

As he continued to weigh his options, the blue lightning marks on his arms seemed to pulse with a faint energy, almost as if responding to his thoughts. "I wonder if these marks could somehow guide me," Ethan pondered, his fingers once again tracing the intricate patterns. "If they're connected to the lightning that brought me here, maybe they have some sort of purpose or direction."

With a sigh, Ethan realized that relying on the mysterious marks was a long shot at best. "No, I can't count on that," he decided, shaking his head. "I need to focus on what I know and make the best decision based on the information I have."

After a moment of careful consideration, Ethan made his choice. "Alright, I'm going to head west," he declared, his voice filled with determination. "If I'm in Washington, that's my best bet for finding help. And if I'm in Oregon, I'll eventually hit the coast or a major river that can lead me to civilization."

With his course set, Ethan adjusted the remnants of his backpack and set off through the forest the blue lightning marks on his arms seemed to pulse with energy as he moved through the undergrowth, a constant reminder of the incredible forces that had brought him to this strange place. "I don't know what these marks mean," Ethan mused, his fingers tracing the intricate patterns, "but if they're connected to what happened to me, then I need to find out more."

《ᘿᘕᘮᘔᘼ》