The world awakened within Zhen with a searing pain that burned from the depths of his being. A tattoo began to form on his arm, where once there was only smooth, tanned skin, burning as if a living entity writhed inside, struggling to escape. The pain was so intense that he could barely discern where his body ended and the surrounding void began.
His thoughts were jumbled fragments, a distant echo of memories belonging to another life. Suddenly, his body tensed involuntarily, his muscles reacting to an ancient force coursing through his veins. His arm raised itself, as if controlled by an alien will, while a sharp pain intensified in his forehead. His fingers, guided by a primal instinct, grazed the exact spot where a new mark began to materialize. The tattoo on his arm pulsed with a life of its own, its golden and black patterns expanding like luminous vines that seemed to absorb something invisible.
His chest expanded with a breath of air so pure that his mind, accustomed to the weight of pollution and modernity, didn’t know how to process it at first. His nose caught a torrent of unfamiliar scents: the fertile smell of damp earth, mixed with the raw and steely aroma of sweat and leather coming from the nearby surroundings. It was a brutal contrast, but not unpleasant; rather visceral, as if the air itself was imbued with life.
Among that blend of scents, a soft and delicate fragrance drew him like a beacon in the storm. A sweet, floral perfume that enveloped him with comforting warmth. Something familiar resided in that essence, indefinable, but whispering care and tenderness.
His ears began to capture sounds. First as distant echoes, then clearer: the whisper of wind through trees, muffled and confused voices of others, the crackling of leaves under hurried footsteps. And then, above all, a voice rose like a melody, soft and sweet, bringing him back to the present.
“I-is it you...?” said a young woman, her tone trembling but filled with hope.
He tried to open his eyes, but the light hit him like a hammer blow. He blinked several times until his vision, blurry at first, began to focus. Before him stood a young woman with silver-gold hair and green-tinted braids that fell in gentle waves over her shoulders. Her emerald green eyes stared at him intently, full of wonder and something else that Zhen couldn’t immediately identify.
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He tried to move, but pain in his arm and forehead made him gasp. That’s when he saw it: on his left arm, from shoulder to elbow, an intricate tattoo of golden and black lines seemed to glow faintly. Two circles, one inside the other, connected with geometric patterns that appeared alive, as if something within them pulsed. He reached toward his face, feeling a strange pressure in the center of his forehead. His fingers touched something warm, and as he lowered his gaze, he saw how a golden flash on his skin slowly faded, leaving another tattoo: two circles similar to those on his arm, etched right on his third eye.
“What... is this?” he asked in a hoarse voice, barely audible, looking at the tattoo on his arm and then at the young woman.
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could utter a word, her legs gave way and she fell to her knees in front of him.
“Hey!” Zhen reacted immediately, leaning towards her as exhaustion clearly etched across her face. The fragility of her body, now trembling slightly, contrasted with the strength of the magic she must have channeled to bring him to this place.
She weakly raised a hand, as if wanting to touch his arm, but let it fall before succeeding. Her breathing was erratic, and her words, barely a whisper, were broken.
“I... did it,” she murmured with a thread of a voice before closing her eyes and collapsing.
Zhen caught her before her body fell completely to the ground. His arms, firm yet gentle, held her with such delicacy that it contrasted with his evident physical strength. The lightness of her figure and the warmth emanating from her bewildered him for a moment, as he became painfully aware of the mocking glances and biting comments surrounding them. The students, forming a circle around them, whispered and laughed. The voices blended into a cacophony of disdain, echoing in the ritual hall.
With absolute care, trying to maintain her dignity intact in the face of indiscreet stares, he held Felicity against his chest. The corset beneath his hands was firm yet warm, and he could feel the tremor running through the young woman’s body. Her eyes, though unfocused from exhaustion, struggled to stay open as she tried to straighten up. The laughter and whispers intensified, but Zhen maintained his composure. His face was a mask of serenity that concealed his own confusion and bewilderment. Suddenly, the voices around them fell silent as if an invisible hand had turned off all sound.