Darkness.

  It wasn’t just around me—it was inside me, pressing into every corner of my mind. Heavy. Suffocating. Endless.

  For a long time—I didn’t exist.

  Then—a sound.

  Distant. Muffled. A voice?

  It was faint, barely cutting through the void. But something about it pulled at me, like an anchor dragging me upward.

  Then—light.

  Blinding. Overwhelming. It burned into my vision, sending sharp, stabbing pain through my skull.

  I gasped, my lungs seizing as if I had forgotten how to breathe. My chest ached. My limbs felt like lead.

  Where… am I?

  A ceiling. Cracked, lined with dark stains. The smell of rust and something foul clung to the air.

  I tried to move—but my body refused.

  I forced myself to focus. My head was pounding, but the details around me were becoming clearer.

  A room.

  Dim. Ruined.

  Walls lined with shattered glass, consoles flickering weakly. Machinery long since abandoned, their screens cracked and lifeless.

  And the floor…

  Bodies.

  Scattered, armored figures lay motionless, weapons still clutched in lifeless hands. The metallic scent of blood was thick in the air.

  What… happened here?

  I swallowed, pushing myself up with trembling arms. Pain flared in my skull, sharp and unforgiving.

  I didn’t know where I was.

  I didn’t know how I got here.

  But I knew one thing—

  Something had gone very, very wrong.

  Then—footsteps.

  Heavy. Controlled. Getting closer.

  I turned my head—too fast. My vision swam, my balance tilting. I gritted my teeth, steadying myself.

  A shadow filled the doorway.

  A man stood there, backlit by flickering emergency lights. Tall. Armed. Dangerous.

  His stance was cautious, controlled. His hand hovered near his weapon. He was assessing the situation.

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  Assessing me.

  His eyes swept the room, taking in the shattered equipment, the bodies, and finally—me.

  His expression shifted—not fear. Not relief. Something else.

  Something like recognition.

  His hand twitched toward his weapon.

  Move.

  I didn’t think. I just acted.

  I rolled off the platform, hitting the ground hard. Too slow. My body was still weak, still sluggish.

  The man’s gun was already up.

  A sharp click—safety off.

  I lunged.

  The barrel swung toward me.

  I grabbed it just as his finger squeezed the trigger.

  Bang!

  The gunfire shattered the silence. Sparks flew as the shot went wide, ricocheting off the wrecked walls. My ears rang, my skull pounded, but I didn’t let go.

  I twisted his wrist, forcing the weapon upward.

  For a second—just a second—our eyes met.

  He was surprised.

  He hadn’t expected me to fight back.

  Neither had I.

  Then—he adjusted.

  His knee slammed into my ribs.

  Pain exploded through my chest. Breath stolen. Vision blurred.

  I staggered, my grip loosening just enough—just long enough for him to shove me backward.

  I hit the ground, sliding against the cold floor.

  His gun snapped back into place. The barrel aimed straight at my head.

  Shit.

  I tensed—but the shot never came.

  Instead, the man just stared.

  His breathing was steady, but his fingers weren’t on the trigger.

  He was waiting. Calculating.

  Finally, he spoke.

  "You're alive?"

  I blinked. My heart was still hammering against my ribs, adrenaline roaring in my veins.

  What kind of question was that?

  I frowned. "What does it look like?"

  His jaw tightened slightly, but he didn’t lower the gun. "How long have you been here?"

  I opened my mouth—then stopped.

  I didn’t know.

  The thought sent a cold ripple down my spine.

  How long had I been lying in this place? How long had I been unconscious?

  Days? Weeks? Years?

  I forced myself to stay calm. He had the upper hand. If I gave him any reason to think I was a threat, he wouldn’t hesitate.

  So I exhaled slowly. "I don’t know."

  His eyes narrowed slightly. He studied me, looking for a lie.

  Then—his gaze flicked toward the bodies around us.

  The armored soldiers. Motionless. Lifeless.

  His grip on the gun tightened. "Did you do this?"

  My chest tightened.

  I looked around. The bloodstains. The broken armor. The sheer destruction.

  I had no memory of it.

  But something inside me whispered—yes.

  I did.

  I swallowed, forcing myself to meet his gaze. "I don't know."

  He didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

  Then—he lowered the gun.

  Not completely. Just slightly.

  A test.

  I took a slow breath, my body still aching. "Who are you?"

  The man exhaled, his sharp eyes still watching me carefully.

  "Zack, Zack Rivers."

  A name. That was a start.

  I nodded slowly. "Ashen, Ashen Ashford"

  His expression shifted slightly, like he had expected that answer.

  Then—before I could question it—my vision tilted.

  The walls rippled. The lights blurred.

  Something was wrong.

  My body was failing me.

  I barely registered Zack stepping forward before my legs buckled.

  Damn it.

  The last thing I saw was his blurred silhouette before my mind plunged back into darkness.