Prologue

It was like waking up from a long dream, like he was drifting in the winds. Weightless. Floating. And yet, unable to resist the inevitable heaviness of gravity pulling you down.

It was comforting until the steadfast weight melted into a slow but intense stirring in his heart, one that he knew he hadn't felt in a long, long time.

One that he somehow knew he only felt when it happened. He couldn’t remember what it was exactly and tried to focus on the faint impressions that were beginning to overtake any lingering feelings of serenity. 

Guilt. Anger. Regret.

Love.

It felt familiar in a way that made no sense. He didn’t even know where he was, or who he was—only that something was lost.

It haunted him. 

He had lost something so precious that he thought the aching in his chest would never cease. A punishment. An atonement for failing. 

Failing to do what?

He knew he should remember how he ended up here. What his name was. Who he was. But he could only grasp elusive traces of yearning. Fleeting thoughts. An urgency to...run. To save someone? 

To protect her.

The more he tried to make sense of his thoughts, the more disoriented he became. He was so confused, he thought a massive headache would've hit him at any other time.

Strangely, he felt no pain.

In fact, he felt nothing at all.

No physical sensations.

He tried moving his body—shaking his arms, jerking his legs. They moved just as he willed, but it felt stiff and muddled, like being underwater. There was some sort of resistance preventing him from moving too freely. Like tar pulling at your limbs.

Like paint, dried and coated.

He tried opening his eyes, but only saw darkness in front of him.

He felt like he was slowly sinking to the bottom of an endless sea.

Sinking deeper and deeper, fading like a forgotten memory slipping away into an empty void.

Until he felt it. 

A tug in his heart. His soul. Faint, but there. An anchor, pulling him up and up and up until he finally broke through the surface.

A gasp for air, clinging desperately to the thread pulling at his heart.

He opened his eyes, choking to catch his breath and blinking back the sudden tears threatening to fall as a sudden wave of familiarity and longing crashed over him.

He was still struggling to ground himself when he caught the faintest whisper of movement. A fluttering of drapes being pulled.

The sudden light blinded his eyes, and he grimaced at the brightness. When the glare was no longer unbearable, he peeked one eye open. Then, the other. 

A girl was in front of him—clutching the dark maroon curtains.

Soft brown curls with starlike eyes opened wide. A quiet gasp full of wonder parted her lips.

And he knew the soft whisper she breathed was his name.

Rovin Artten.

And he remembered.