The world swam back into focus slowly, like emerging from a deep, dreamless sleep. But this wasn't sleep. This was… different. The air, thin and crisp, tasted of dust and something else, something ancient and earthy. My head throbbed, a dull ache behind my eyes, a constant reminder of the blinding flash. I sat up, my body stiff and aching, the ground beneath me cool and hard. Gone was the suffocating stench of Porthos, replaced by a scent both unfamiliar and strangely comforting – dry earth, withered leaves, and a faint, metallic tang.

  I looked around. The gate… it was gone. Vanished. No trace remained of the corroded metal, the humming energy, the terrifying transition. Only the desolate landscape stretched before me, a panorama of cracked earth, skeletal trees clawing at a perpetually twilight sky. The sun, if it could be called that, was a weak, pale disc, casting a soft, ethereal glow that did little to pierce the gloom. This wasn't Thraynos. This was… somewhere else. Somewhere alien, yet strangely familiar.

  A wave of nausea rolled over me, and I pressed my hands to the ground, trying to steady myself. My hands… they felt different. Stronger. More… alive. A faint warmth pulsed beneath my skin, a subtle energy that thrummed in my veins. It was an unfamiliar sensation, a feeling of power I'd never known, a stark contrast to the weakness that had defined my life. Curiosity, a hesitant flicker amidst the lingering fear, prompted me to focus on that warmth. I closed my eyes, concentrating on the sensation, and a faint, warm glow emanated from my palms, a soft, ethereal light that pulsed with an inner strength.

  Mana. It was mana. Pure, potent mana, unlike anything I'd ever imagined. On Thraynos, I'd been a void, a nothing. Here… here, I was something. A reservoir of untapped power. The shock of it was almost overwhelming. Tears welled in my eyes, not tears of despair this time, but tears of bewildered astonishment. I, Kael Solvryn, the magicless outcast, possessed magic. Real magic.

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  Days blurred into a hazy procession of exploration and cautious discovery. The landscape was harsh, unforgiving, but it held a certain stark beauty. I learned to navigate the treacherous terrain, my newfound strength surprising even myself. The constant hunger gnawed at me, but I managed to find sustenance – sparse, meager, but enough to keep me alive. The strange energy within me, this mana, seemed to fuel me, sustaining me in ways I couldn't comprehend.

  Then, in the distance, I saw it – a cluster of buildings, huddled together like frightened animals, nestled amongst the withered trees. A village. Hope, a fragile thing, flickered within me. Perhaps there were others here, others who could explain this… this transformation.

  As I approached, the air grew heavy with apprehension. The villagers, gaunt and weathered, watched me from behind crumbling walls, their eyes filled with a mixture of fear and suspicion. They spoke a language I didn't understand, their words a harsh, guttural tongue, yet their apprehension was universal. Their clothes were ragged, their faces etched with the harshness of their lives, their eyes reflecting the dying light of their world.

  Through gestures and broken phrases, a gruff old woman, her face a roadmap of wrinkles, managed to communicate a few things. They were Xalethians. Their world was dying, slowly suffocating under the fading sun. And they spoke of prophecies, ancient whispers of a 'Flame-Born,' a savior who would restore their world, a being imbued with a power unlike any they had ever known. A power… like mine.

  The old woman's eyes, though filled with fear, held a glimmer of something else – hope. A desperate, clinging hope that I, the stranger who had arrived from a gate that now existed only in their legends, was the one they had waited for. The Flame-Born.

  The weight of their expectation settled on me, heavy and suffocating. The outcast of Porthos, the failure, the nothing, was now burdened with the fate of an entire world. But unlike the crushing weight of expectation on Thraynos, this felt… different. This wasn't a burden I was forced to carry, but a responsibility I was drawn to. A chance to redeem myself, not just in their eyes, but in my own. The spark of defiance that had ignited within me on the plains of Thraynos had grown into a flickering flame. And on this dying world, under the soft glow of its fading sun, I would fan that flame into a blaze. I would fight. Not just for survival, but for something more. For Xaleth. For myself.