Chapter 1: Opening Image
A large portal ripped from the air, electricity flashing across the streets.
A young man, or what looked to be a man, walked out, a blood-soaked cloak swaying in the wind.
His face was covered by a mask, a titanium shell melted to his back, and a robotic arm, Sharp, scythes glinting in the neon lights. He was missing two fingers on his left hand, and underneath the cloak was his clothes a mix of old and new - a colorful button-up shirt, a white jean jacket, and blue jeans. He looked around, his eyes widening at the sight of the city. "Home," he whispered, his voice echoing in the empty street.
He walked towards an old, rundown apartment building, the door creaking open with a push. He climbed the stairs, each one groaning under his weight.
He was utterly exhausted, his bone weighing on him. He held his bow and arrows close, hoping this wasn't a dream. He'd been in Dimension X for what felt like an eternity, but his body was still young, still strong. He'd aged, but not in the way he'd expected. He'd seen eons pass, but his reflection in the water still showed a face that looked no older than when he'd left.
The apartment door was slightly ajar, a sliver of light spilling out. He pushed it open, and the scent of old books and dust hit him. The apartment was small, cluttered, a studio filled with memories. The floors creaked under his feet, and he could hear the hum of the city outside, the distant sound of traffic and laughter.
He stepped further into the apartment, his eyes scanning the familiar clutter. A stack of books teetered precariously on the edge of the table, a half-finished painting leaned against the wall, and the couch was still covered in a blanket. He walked towards the window, the panoramic view of the bustling cityscape below taking his breath away. The city was alive, pulsating with energy, and he felt a strange mix of longing and fear.
He turned back to the room, his eyes landing on a small, framed photograph on the mantelpiece. It was a picture of him, younger, laughing with a group of friends. He picked it up, his fingers tracing the edges.
The memories of the past were barely in Ombre's mind, all he could think of was how he needed sleep. He walked towards the bedroom, the door creaking open to reveal a room filled with shadows. He could see the outline of the bed, the sheets still rumpled from the last time he'd slept in it. He sat down on the edge of the bed, his robotic arm clanking against the wooden frame. He looked down at it, a grimace forming under his mask. He'd grown used to Sharp, but it still felt foreign, still felt like a part of him was missing.
He reached up to his face, his fingers tracing the edges of his mask. He'd worn it for so long, he'd forgotten what it felt like to not have it on.
Nervous of the mangled face underneath, he didn't bother to remove it. Rather, he threw himself on his bed, wanting to fall into the depths of slumber. But sleep was elusive, his mind racing with memories of Dimension X. He tossed and turned, his robotic arm clanking against the headboard, his titanium shell digging into his back. He sat up, sighing, and looked around the room. His eyes landed on a small, wooden box on the bedside table. He picked it up, his fingers tracing the intricate carvings. It was a gift from his friends, a going-away present before he'd left for Dimension X. He opened it, revealing a small, glowing stone. It was a dream stone, a gift from the fairies of Dimension X. They'd told him it would help him sleep, help him dream.
He thanked them that day, but he never used it. That was because he never got the chance.
He'd been thrown into a battle mere hours after receiving it, and the stone had been lost in the chaos. Until now. He picked it up, the stone warm in his palm. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and placed the stone on his forehead. He felt a wave of calm wash over him, his body relaxing, his mind quieting. He fell back onto the bed, his eyes fluttering closed.
He dreamt of the city, of the way it used to be. He saw himself, younger, laughing with his friends, walking down the bustling streets. He saw the old bookstore on the corner, the one that always smelled like coffee and old books.
He saw the park where he used to sit and read, the trees now bare, the grass brown and crunchy underfoot. He saw the alleyway where he'd first met Sharp, the robotic arm now a part of him, a constant reminder of his journey.
He woke up with a start, the dream stone clattering to the floor. He looked around, his heart pounding in his chest. The room was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamps outside. He sat up, his robotic arm clanking as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He looked down at his hands, his fingers tracing the edges of his mask.
That's when he heard a knock at the door.