A Good Man Awakens

An Old Power

The air was too pure, too clean. It carried the scent of grass and something else—something sharper, unfamiliar, yet strangely sweet. I blinked as the world settled into focus around me. The ground beneath me was soft, lush, but not like any grass I'd seen before. The blades shimmered faintly, catching the light in a way that made them seem almost translucent. The sun—if that's what it was—bathed everything in golden light, though there were no shadows, and the air itself felt alive, humming with energy.

"I see you are finally with us."

A voice, vibrant and rich, reverberated behind me. It didn't just break the silence—it seemed to weave through it, as if the air itself carried the words with purpose. I turned, still sitting in the strange grass, still trying to shake off the images of chaos and destruction. My mind was a haze of shattered memories: the city crumbling, the faces of Benack, Jezzery, and Kelsey. They flickered in my thoughts, refusing to fade.

But when I looked up at the figure towering over me, all thoughts of the past were momentarily swept away.

He was massive—easily twice the height of any man. His skin was a deep, verdant green, like the leaves of ancient forests. Long black hair cascaded down his back, swaying gently even though there was no breeze. His eyes, glowing with an unnatural green light, swirled with life as if they held entire worlds within them. He wore a simple leather tunic, the straps buckled at his shoulder and waist, leaving his muscled arms and legs bare. Dark geometric patterns marked his skin, their shapes shifting subtly as though alive, drawing the eye like the turning of the cosmos itself.

"Greetings, young one," he said, his voice warm yet commanding. "I am Villas of Vermuila. Welcome to my home."

I took a deep breath, and the air seemed to fill me with vitality. No pain, no exhaustion—only a sense of renewal. But even as the strength returned to my limbs, the weight of Allensmore's destruction lingered in my mind. Had I died? Was this the afterlife?

Slowly, I rose to my feet, my clothes feeling strangely untouched by the events I'd just witnessed. I looked up into Villas's glowing eyes, needing answers to the impossible questions running through my mind.

"Am I dead?" I asked, the only words I could muster.

Villas smiled, and the ground beneath us seemed to respond—small, luminescent flowers blooming where he stepped. He bent down, plucking one of the strange blossoms from the ground. It was delicate, its petals shimmering with hues of blue and gold, as if the flower itself was alive with light.

"You are not dead," he said, holding the flower between his massive fingers. "But neither are you alive in the sense you understand it. Look at this flower." He held it up, tilting it slightly, watching the light play off the petals. "It is beautiful, isn't it? But watch closely."

With a gentle motion, he severed the stem from the flower. For a moment, it withered in his hand. Then, with a soft breath, he blew on the blossom, and its petals broke apart, dissolving into countless glowing spores that floated into the air. They drifted around us, some settling gently on the ground, while others disappeared into the horizon.

"Though it is cut from its root, the flower lives on," Villas explained. "Parts of it will find new life. So too will you. Your roots are not severed, only... redirected."

His words hung in the air, and I found myself lost in thought, trying to understand. It was true—I felt different. My body was light, unburdened by the pain I had known. But the memories of Allensmore, the deaths of those I cared about, were still raw.

I took another breath, inhaling the strange, vibrant air of this place. The question burned on my lips before I could stop myself. "Benack, Jezzery... little Kelsey—are they all right?"