Imagine A Happy Ending

The void that had consumed me cracked like shattered glass, splintering into fragments that floated around me, each piece reflecting a different life I had lived. For a moment, I thought this was the end—an eternal descent into nothingness. But as the shards coalesced, they formed a mirror, and in its reflection, I saw a version of myself I didn't recognize.

I reached out to touch it, my hand trembling, and the surface rippled like water.

I gasped, sitting up abruptly. My chest heaved, the air cold and sharp, burning my lungs as if I had been drowning. The world around me was unfamiliar, an amalgamation of contradictions.

A soft light filtered in through a curtained window, illuminating a room that felt both modern and ancient. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books bound in cracked leather and scrolls etched with runes. A strange clock ticked on the wall, its face adorned with intricate symbols I couldn't decipher, and yet, a digital screen below it displayed the year: 1990.

I stumbled to my feet, my legs unsteady as if they didn't belong to me. The wooden floor creaked beneath my weight. I was dressed in clothes that didn't feel right—fitted pants and a long coat that smelled faintly of smoke and metal.

"Where am I?" I whispered, my voice foreign to my own ears.

The room seemed alive. Shadows danced across the walls, cast by a fire that crackled in a hearth. Objects glimmered in the dim light—a dagger with a jeweled hilt, an hourglass filled with silver sand, and a collection of strange vials, their contents glowing faintly.

On a small desk, a book caught my attention. Its cover was plain, save for one detail: my name.

Kael Asher.

I opened it hesitantly, the pages whispering as they turned. The words within told a story—my story. Every detail, every emotion, every death I had endured was written here. The fire, the mercenaries, my mother's hollow eyes.

And then, a passage I hadn't lived yet:

"Kael Asher awoke to a world unlike any he had known, where magic and machines intertwined. His destiny was unwritten, but his past clung to him like a shadow."

I closed the book with shaking hands and moved to the window. Pulling back the curtain, I saw a city that defied comprehension. Towers of glass and stone reached into a twilight sky, their peaks wreathed in mist. Strange machines roamed the streets below—vehicles that hummed with an eerie glow, their wheels suspended inches above the ground.

People moved with purpose, dressed in a mix of modern suits and cloaks embroidered with glowing runes. Some carried staffs that sparked with energy; others wielded weapons that looked like hybrids of guns and swords.

"This isn't real," I muttered, pressing my forehead to the cool glass.

But it felt real—the hum of the machines, the faint murmurs of the crowd below, the weight of the book in my hand.

I turned back to the room, my gaze falling on a tall wardrobe in the corner. Something compelled me to open it. My fingers trembled as I gripped the ornate handle, pulling the door ajar.

Inside, hung neatly alongside cloaks and suits, was a gun.

It was sleek, black, and engraved with intricate patterns that glowed faintly as I touched it. The weight of it felt right in my hand, as though it had been made for me. Alongside the gun was a holster and a belt filled with small, glowing vials.

"What kind of world is this?" I whispered.

"You already know," a voice echoed in my mind.

I froze, the gun slipping slightly in my grip. "You again," I said, my voice laced with bitterness.

"Always," it replied. "Do you understand yet, Kael?"

"Understand what?" I snapped. "That I'm a puppet in some cruel game? That my life isn't my own?"

The voice laughed softly. "Your life is yours, Kael. But it is also everyone's. You carry the weight of countless souls, their pain, their choices. And now, you have a choice of your own."

"What choice?" I demanded.

"To wake up fully, or to fall again into the dream."

The room grew darker, the shadows lengthening and creeping closer. My reflection in the window twisted, becoming a thousand faces—some familiar, some foreign. Each one stared at me, their eyes filled with sorrow, anger, or pleading.

"Why me?" I whispered, sinking to my knees. "Why do I have to bear this?"

"Because you can," the voice said simply.

The faces began to speak, their voices overlapping into a cacophony of pain.

"You let me die!"

"Why didn't you save us?"

"You are the curse, Kael!"

I clutched my head, the weight of their words threatening to crush me.

Amid the chaos, a single memory surfaced—my mother's voice, soft and steady.

"Kael, you are stronger than you know. Never let the darkness take you."

I stood, my legs unsteady but resolute. The faces faded, the voices silenced. The shadows retreated, leaving me alone in the room.

I strapped the gun to my belt and picked up the book, its weight a reminder of everything I had endured. The name on the cover—Kael Asher—seemed both foreign and familiar.

I didn't know who I was in this world or what awaited me, but one thing was clear: this was not a dream. It was something more.

Opening the door, I stepped out into the unknown, the air crackling with the promise of danger and discovery.

The city before me was alive with possibilities, and I was ready to face them.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt awake. Truly awake.

And yet, a question lingered in the back of my mind—a whisper I couldn't silence.

What if this is just another dream?