Crimson & Light: Starting Over In A World Isn't As Easy As It Seems

"What… what is this thing?" Changra muttered, his voice trembling as he gripped the dagger. Its blade was a deep, almost menacing crimson, cold to the touch, yet it seemed to pulse faintly in his hand, like a heartbeat. The hum it emitted wasn't just sound—it was a feeling, a low vibration that seemed to crawl up his arm and settle in his chest.

He held it up to the faint glow of the alien sky, tilting his head as if the angle might somehow make sense of the impossibility in front of him. "Did… did it just talk to me?" he mumbled, his eyes narrowing suspiciously at the weapon.

Great. First, I get dumped into whatever magical acid trip this place is, and now I'm hallucinating talking knives. What's next, a tree giving me life advice? He turned the dagger over in his hands, half expecting it to sprout a mouth and start lecturing him about his poor life choices.

The hum grew louder, almost impatient, as if the blade itself was offended by his skepticism. Changra's grip tightened. "Okay, cool. You're humming. Awesome. Do you also sing, or is this a strictly ASMR gig?" He let out a nervous laugh, more for his own sanity than anything else.

The voice from earlier echoed faintly in his mind again: "There you are."

His stomach flipped, and he nearly dropped the dagger. "Oh, no, no, no," he said, backing away a step as if the weapon might suddenly grow legs and chase him. "I don't do creepy voices in my head. That's, like, Rule #1 of staying alive in horror movies. Nope. Not today."

Despite his protests, something deep inside him stirred, a strange pull he couldn't quite explain. The dagger's hum softened, almost soothing now, and for a moment, the world around him seemed to fade.

"What do you want from me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

The dagger remained silent, but its crimson glow flared slightly, as if acknowledging his question. Changra sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Great. I've been here, what, ten minutes? And I'm already arguing with a piece of cutlery."

As he continued walking, something—or rather, someone—caught his eye. A girl. And not just any girl—she was stunning, the kind of stunning that made Changra's brain short-circuit like a dollar-store light bulb.

Her hair fell in loose waves, shimmering under the alien sky like spun gold—or maybe silver. Was it glowing? Could hair even glow? Her eyes were a piercing shade of emerald, so bright they practically screamed, Look at me, I'm magical! She wore a sleek yet practical outfit—a fitted jacket, boots that looked like they could stomp out a wildfire, and a faintly glowing pendant around her neck. She wasn't just beautiful; she had an I'll-kick-your-ass-and-look-good-doing-it aura that left Changra both impressed and terrified.

Changra's face immediately turned the color of a ripe tomato as he stared, his mind going into a full-on meltdown. Say something cool, he thought desperately. Anything. Compliment her boots. Or her pendant. Or... just stop staring like an idiot!

"Excuse me?" a voice blurted, snapping him out of his trance.

Changra blinked. The girl was staring right back at him now, one eyebrow raised in a perfect arch that screamed What's your problem?

He froze, realizing he was still very much staring, his jaw slightly slack like some sort of cartoon character.

"Why the hell are you staring at me?" she demanded, her voice sharp enough to cut glass.

Changra scrambled for words, any words, but all his brain could come up with was: Oh no. She noticed.

"I—uh—was just admiring the, uh…" he stammered, gesturing vaguely toward her. "The… uh… glowing. Yeah, you're glowing. Wait, no! Not glowing like radioactive glowing. I mean, like… cool glowing?"

The girl crossed her arms, her unimpressed stare somehow growing even sharper. Changra felt his soul leave his body. Nice job, Changra. Smooth as a cactus.

"My name's Changra," he said, forcing his most awkward attempt at a friendly smile. He reached his hand out to shake hers, his brain still buzzing from her earlier glare. Surely, this was a universal gesture, right?

The girl stared at his hand like he'd just offered her a live grenade. Her emerald eyes narrowed slightly, her head tilting to the side. "What… are you doing?" she asked, her voice laced with genuine confusion.

Changra blinked. Okay, maybe handshakes aren't a thing here. Cool. Totally fine. I'm not the weird one, he thought, trying to ignore the faint heat creeping up his neck.

"It's a greeting," he said, wiggling his outstretched hand slightly for emphasis. "You know, like, uh… a friendly hello? You grab my hand, I grab yours, we shake it. It's normal. Very normal. Totally a thing."

The girl squinted, still looking at his hand like it might bite her. After a long pause, she finally extended her arm, but instead of grabbing his hand, she simply mimicked his pose, holding her hand out stiffly at an awkward angle.

The two stood there in silence, arms extended, looking less like people greeting each other and more like bad actors in a sci-fi movie about malfunctioning robots.

Changra stared at her blankly. Either she's an idiot, or this world-coma-dream thing I'm in has some really whack customs. He shifted slightly, his arm growing tired from the world's most pointless handshake attempt.

"Okay… uh… close enough," he muttered, lowering his hand in defeat. The girl mirrored his movement, lowering her hand as well, her expression still as confused as ever.

Great. Now she thinks I'm the weird one.

"Well, I'm Berethia," she said, her voice smooth and melodic as she flashed him the most beautiful smile Changra had ever seen. The kind of smile that could convince you that puppies were free and the world wasn't, in fact, falling apart.

Changra felt his face heat up again, his cheeks now a shade that could rival the Crimson Dagger. Oh no, I'm malfunctioning, he thought, desperately trying to maintain eye contact and not look like a total idiot.

"I've never seen you around here before," Berethia added, her expression softening as she tilted her head ever so slightly.

Changra froze. His brain was officially offline. What do I do? What do I say? Oh God, she's staring. SAY SOMETHING, DUMMY.

"Y-yeah…" he finally stammered, his voice cracking like a preteen at karaoke night.

Berethia raised an eyebrow, her smile fading slightly as she waited for him to elaborate. Changra darted his eyes around, searching for literally anything that could bail him out of this disaster. A sign, a distraction, a helpful fox-caterpillar hybrid yelling "Cut!" and ending this awkward scene—anything. But nope. Just trees, glowing mushrooms, and the dagger in his hand that was humming like it was judging him.

"I… uh… honestly don't remember," he said finally, forcing a laugh that came out more like a wheeze. "I think I hit my head a little bit too hard. Like… really hard. Hard enough to, uh, forget… stuff."

Berethia studied him for a moment, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly. For a second, he thought she might just walk away, leaving him to stew in his own awkwardness. Instead, she smiled again, the same radiant smile that made his heart skip a beat.

"Well," she said, her tone light and cheerful, "you seem fine to me."

Yeah, because completely embarrassing myself in front of a beautiful girl is definitely the definition of 'fine.'

"So, since your memory's all fuzzy, did you want to come back to my village with me?" Berethia asked, her voice sweet and inviting. She smiled again, that same dazzling, borderline-unfair smile that could probably sell ice to a polar bear.

Changra's heart skipped a beat. No—scratch that—it skipped several beats and then tripped over itself trying to catch up. Wait. Did she just invite me to her village? Like… her actual place? His mind immediately went into overdrive, and for the first time in his life, it wasn't over something awkward or embarrassing—it was excitement.

This. This was the moment he'd been waiting for his entire life. A beautiful girl, inviting him somewhere? And not just anywhere—her village. This has got to be heaven. Or a reward for something I don't remember doing. Or maybe karma finally felt bad for me.

"Yes!" he blurted out a little too quickly, his voice jumping an octave higher than he intended. He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool, though the redness in his face gave him away. "I mean, yeah, that… sounds good. Totally reasonable. Villages are cool."

Berethia tilted her head slightly, her amused expression suggesting she wasn't buying his attempt at nonchalance. "You're… interesting," she said, her tone light but teasing.

Changra grinned nervously, trying to suppress the tiny victory dance his brain was doing. I'm interesting! She thinks I'm interesting! Sure, that could mean 'weird,' but I'll take it.

He adjusted his grip on the Crimson Dagger, still humming softly in his hand, as if it were mocking him. Don't ruin this for me, creepy knife.

"So, uh," Changra said, trying to keep the excitement from spilling out, "what's your village like? Does it have… houses and stuff?"

Berethia blinked at him, her amused smile widening slightly. "Yes. It has houses. And 'stuff.'"

Changra mentally facepalmed. Smooth as sandpaper, Changra. Smooth as sandpaper.

The two walked along the winding path, the air filled with the soft rustling of trees swaying in the breeze. The leaves glimmered faintly under the alien sky, their silvery edges catching the light like a kaleidoscope of magic.

Changra tried to focus on the serene beauty of the forest, but his attention kept flickering to the bizarre creatures perched along the trail. More of those weird caterpillar-fox things lounged lazily by the roots of the glowing trees, their tiny, segmented legs twitching as they turned their furry, fox-like faces toward him.

One of them locked eyes with Changra and let out a low, trilling sound that was somewhere between a growl and a giggle.

"Uh… are they supposed to look at me like that?" Changra whispered to Berethia, his voice low but definitely tinged with concern. "Because that one definitely just judged me. I can feel it."

Berethia glanced over at the creature, her lips curling into an amused smile. "They're harmless. Probably just curious about you."

"Curious about what? My sparkling personality?" Changra muttered, shooting a wary glance back at the creature, which was now licking its oversized paw like it had all the time in the world. "I swear, it just gave me a side-eye."

Another caterpillar-fox peeked out from behind a tree, its glimmering blue tongue flicking out like it was tasting the air. This one actually tilted its head at Changra before letting out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.

Changra groaned. "Oh, great. They're laughing at me now. Fantastic. I've been here an hour, and I'm already being mocked by mutant wildlife."

Berethia chuckled softly, her steps light and graceful as if she belonged here, completely unfazed by the strange creatures. "They probably think you're strange."

"Me? Strange?" Changra asked, gesturing dramatically to the shimmering, alien landscape around them. "I'm not the one who looks like a Build-A-Bear experiment gone wrong, okay?!"

The caterpillar-fox closest to him blinked slowly, its furry face remaining impassive as if it were above his petty insults.

Berethia glanced at him, amused. "Are you seriously arguing with them?"

Changra threw his hands up in mock surrender. "I'm just saying, if they start talking back, I'm out. Full sprint. No hesitation."

Berethia shook her head with a laugh, the sound soft and melodic. Changra couldn't help but smile despite himself.

"Hey, Berethia, can I ask you a question?" Changra said, his voice cutting through the tranquil sounds of the forest as the faint outline of a village came into view in the distance. The rooftops glimmered faintly under the surreal glow of Elakia's sky, their shapes oddly angular, as if the houses had grown organically rather than being built.

Berethia turned toward him, her emerald eyes catching the light like polished gems. She smiled warmly, the kind of smile that could make even the most chaotic day seem manageable. "Of course," she said with an encouraging nod.

Changra hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "So, uh… you know how my memories are all foggy, right?" He glanced down at the Crimson Dagger in his hand, still emitting its soft hum, as if it was always listening. "Can you tell me a bit about this place? I don't remember if I've ever been here before. Or… anywhere, really."

Berethia's expression softened, and she slowed her pace, gesturing toward the landscape around them. "Elakia is… different," she began, her voice carrying a mixture of pride and reverence. "It's a world of balance. Magic flows through everything here—the air, the earth, even the trees and creatures you see. It's what keeps everything alive, vibrant, and…" She paused, glancing back at the caterpillar-foxes. "…sometimes a little strange."

Changra followed her gaze, eyeing one of the creatures still staring at him with what he swore was a judgmental look. "Yeah, I've noticed the 'strange' part," he muttered under his breath.

Berethia chuckled softly before continuing. "Magic in Elakia isn't just something people use—it's part of the world itself. There are many types, depending on how you're connected to it. For some, it's in their blood—innate, like breathing. Others can learn to harness it through spells, potions, or rituals. And then there are those who are… outside its reach."

Changra frowned, his grip tightening on the dagger. "Outside its reach? You mean… people who can't use magic?"

She nodded, her smile fading slightly. "Yes. Not everyone is blessed with the ability to use magic. Those who can't… well, they often find other ways to survive. But Elakia can be harsh for them. Magic shapes everything here—society, power, even survival. Without it…" She trailed off, her tone growing somber.

Changra's stomach churned at the thought. "So, if someone doesn't have magic, they're just… what, screwed?"

Berethia hesitated before replying. "Not necessarily. There are ways to compensate—tools, artifacts, allies—but the road is… harder." Her gaze flicked briefly to the dagger in Changra's hand, her expression unreadable.

Changra looked down at the blade again, its crimson light pulsing faintly, almost like a heartbeat. "And what about this thing?" he asked, lifting it slightly. "Does it run on magic, or is it just really flashy cutlery?"

Berethia's eyes lingered on the dagger for a moment, a flicker of something—concern? Curiosity?—crossing her face. "Artifacts like that are… rare," she said carefully. "They're not tied to any one kind of magic. Instead, they draw from their wielder—your emotions, your intentions, even your fears. The stronger the connection, the more powerful they become."

Changra blinked. "So… it's like a magic mood ring? Cool, cool, nothing ominous about that."

Berethia's smile returned, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Something like that," she said cryptically.

As they neared the village, Changra noticed more details—the homes seemed to glow faintly, their walls covered in vines that shimmered with tiny, bioluminescent flowers. People moved about the streets, their clothing flowing and ethereal, faintly glowing runes embroidered into the fabric. Children laughed as they played with what looked like floating spheres of water, their giggles echoing through the air.

"Wait," Changra said, his steps faltering as he watched one of the spheres burst into sparkles before reforming in a child's hands. "Is… is that magic?"

Berethia nodded. "Elemental magic. Water, in this case. Many children begin learning simple spells at a young age—it's second nature to them."

"Right," Changra said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Because conjuring glowing water balloons is just a normal Tuesday here. Totally not making me feel inadequate or anything."

Berethia laughed softly, her steps light as she led him closer to the village. "Don't worry, Changra. You'll find your place here."

Changra frowned, glancing down at the dagger in his hand. He wasn't so sure about that.

The village was unlike anything Changra had ever seen—or at least anything he could remember. The houses seemed alive, their glowing walls pulsing faintly in time with the gentle hum of the air. Small bridges arched gracefully over streams of shimmering teal water, and the streets, though unpaved, glowed faintly beneath their feet as if lit from within. The air was filled with the soft murmur of conversation, the laughter of children, and the occasional crackle of magic sparking to life.

Changra's eyes widened as he took it all in. "This place… it's like something out of a dream," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

Berethia smiled beside him, her expression warm and inviting. "It's home," she said simply.

Changra glanced at her, feeling a small flicker of envy. Home. The word felt so foreign, so distant—like something he'd never truly had.

As they continued walking, he noticed the way the villagers glanced at him, their expressions a mix of curiosity and wariness. "Uh… is it just me, or is everyone staring?" he asked, shifting uncomfortably under their gazes.

"They're not used to seeing someone like you," Berethia replied, her tone casual.

Changra frowned. "Someone like me? What's that supposed to mean?"

Berethia hesitated for a fraction of a second—so brief that most people wouldn't have noticed. But Changra did. "I just mean… an outsider," she said quickly, her smile returning. "You're new here, and Elakia doesn't get many newcomers. It's nothing to worry about."

Changra nodded slowly, but something about her hesitation nagged at him. He wanted to press her further, but the way she smiled at him—kind and sincere—made him push the thought aside. Stop overthinking, he told himself. She's been nothing but helpful. Don't ruin it by being paranoid.

They reached the edge of the square, where a large fountain stood at the center. The water shimmered like liquid starlight, cascading in gentle arcs that defied gravity. Around the edges, people gathered in small groups, some laughing, others weaving spells with casual ease.

Berethia gestured toward one of the larger houses near the edge of the square. "That's where we'll stay for now. You can rest and eat, and we'll figure out what to do next."

Changra felt a wave of relief wash over him. "Thanks," he said, his voice softer now. "For, you know… helping me. You didn't have to, and I appreciate it."

Berethia's smile widened, but something flickered in her eyes—something Changra couldn't quite place. She glanced around the square, lowering her voice slightly. "We have to be careful, though. They have eyes everywhere."

Changra froze, his stomach twisting. "Who?" he asked, his voice sharper than he intended.

Berethia blinked, her expression faltering for a split second before she quickly recovered. "Oh, just a… a group of troublemakers," she said with a wave of her hand, her tone light but forced. "Nothing to worry about."

Changra narrowed his eyes slightly, his grip tightening on the dagger at his side. She hesitated. Why did she hesitate?

The logical part of his brain screamed at him to ask more questions, to press her for details. But the other part—the tired, overwhelmed part—reminded him that she'd been kind, that she'd helped him when no one else had. Don't ruin this, he told himself. Not now.

With a deep breath, he forced a small smile and nodded. "Right. Trouble. Got it."

Berethia's smile returned, brighter now, as if she'd been waiting for his reassurance. "Let's get inside," she said, leading him toward the house.

Changra followed her through the door, but as he stepped inside, her words lingered in his mind. "They have eyes everywhere."