The Enchanted Rebirth

Chapter 2 - Ollie Wilde

In the dark depths of the void, Luther opened his eyes, finding himself lying beneath a towering, ancient tree. Its massive presence radiated a palpable energy, an abundant mana that seemed to pulse through the very air around him. As his surroundings gradually took shape, the darkness gave way to a vibrant landscape—a vast expanse of green grass, a sky of endless blue, and the crisp scent of fresh air.

Luther, disoriented, couldn’t help but wonder aloud, "Am I in heaven?" But no answer came. The silence was profound, enveloping him like a shroud. He rose and began to circle the enormous tree, searching for any sign of life, but found only solitude. The scene brought his thoughts back to the moment of his death—the sudden, violent assassination that had cast him from the top floor of the high rise building.

"I suppose this is my final journey," he mused quietly, recalling the shock his death must have caused. "I wonder if my brother has taken action, if he’s begun investigating my murder. It must have been quite a sight, finding my body floating in the water, the heir of the family gone in an instant." He sighed, a mix of resignation and relief in his voice. "At least now, my brother can take over. That might solve some of their problems."

As he contemplated his fate, Luther began to explore the area more thoroughly. After confirming that he was truly alone, he returned to the ancient tree, his fingers brushing against its rough bark. That’s when he noticed something—a series of carvings etched into the wood. The symbols were unfamiliar, an ancient script lost to time, yet something about them drew him closer.

Among the cryptic markings, he suddenly recognized a word—his own name, Luther De Vil, carved elegantly in his native tongue. But it wasn’t alone; next to it was another name, written in an equally graceful script: "Ollie Wilde." Without thinking, Luther spoke the name aloud, and as the words left his lips, a gust of wind swept past him.

He turned sharply and saw a young man standing before him, as if materializing from the air itself. The man had long ebony black hair, shining purple eyes, and delicate features—his frame petite, almost feminine, though there was no doubt he was a man. His attire was strange, resembling something from the medieval era, a stark contrast to the world Luther had known.

For a moment, the two of them simply stared at one another, an unspoken connection hanging in the air. Luther couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew this man, or perhaps, that they were somehow the same. The young man’s face, however, was a picture of despair, his voice trembling as he finally spoke, "Please, help me…"

He extended a hand to Luther, who hesitated, his mind racing with questions. "Who are you?" he asked, the same question he had asked earlier in the day, yet once again, no clear answer came.

Just as Luther was about to dismiss him, the young man spoke again, so quietly it was almost inaudible, "My name is Ollie…"

Before Luther could react, Ollie grasped his hand, and in an instant, the world exploded into light. It was the brightest, most overwhelming light Luther had ever seen, consuming everything, pulling him into its radiant embrace.

Next, when Luther opened his eyes, he found himself in a room—neat, simple, and quietly old-fashioned. It was a place far removed from anything he could have imagined, a refuge from the chaos that had overtaken his life. But as he gazed around, a sense of destiny settled over him, as though this place held the key to whatever awaited him next.