The morning sun peeked through the blinds, casting soft streaks of light across the spacious bedroom. A faint hum of city life filtered through the windows, blending with the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall.
Leon Carter stirred awake, blinking as his vision adjusted to the golden glow of dawn. He exhaled a deep breath, running a hand over his face before sitting up in bed. Another day, another routine.
He swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, stretching out the stiffness in his muscles. At forty-two, his body was still in good shape—broad shoulders, a lean frame, and a sharp, chiseled face that had aged gracefully.
Rising from the bed, he padded over to the bathroom. The cold water against his face jolted away the last remnants of sleep. Staring into the mirror, he saw the same familiar reflection: black hair, a few strands of silver creeping in at the temples, deep-set eyes that carried both confidence and exhaustion. A man who had lived well, but not necessarily meaningfully.
After a quick shower, he dressed in a crisp navy-blue suit and adjusted his tie. Routine. Everything in his life was a routine. A well-paying job, a high-rise apartment, a string of casual flings, and yet—a strange emptiness gnawed at the back of his mind.
Pushing the thought aside, Leon grabbed his keys and stepped into the underground parking lot. The low hum of his black BMW greeted him as he slid into the driver's seat, the leather cool against his palms.
The morning roads were familiar, the same traffic, the same impatient drivers. His hands gripped the steering wheel loosely as he navigated through the city. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Until something caught his eye.
At the railroad crossing ahead, a school van was stuck on the tracks.
Leon's grip on the wheel tightened.
The van's front tire was lodged deep in the rail groove, refusing to budge. Small children inside screamed, their little faces pressed against the windows in terror.
The driver was in a panic, slamming on the gas. The tires spun helplessly, producing nothing but smoke.
Then Leon heard it.
The distant, thunderous rumble.
His heart stopped.
The red warning lights flashed violently. The crossing gate began to lower. The ground trembled beneath him.
A train was coming. Fast.
The children's screams grew frantic.
Leon's pulse roared in his ears.
There was no time.
No hesitation.
No second thoughts.
Gritting his teeth, he slammed his foot on the accelerator.
The BMW's engine howled as the car shot forward, tires screeching against asphalt.
CRASH!
The impact was brutal. Metal screamed as Leon's car slammed into the side of the van, sending it tumbling off the tracks.
For a moment, silence.
Then—the deafening horn.
Leon turned just in time to see the blinding headlights of the train.
And then, there was nothing.
*****
"Aghhh!"
Pain. That was the first thing Leon felt as his mind came back to reality. A splitting headache pounded against his skull, making it hard to think.
He groggily opened his eyes. Darkness surrounded him.
"Did I survive…?"
His voice came out weak, unfamiliar. His body felt strange. He looked around, trying to make sense of his surroundings.
"Is this a hospital?" He muttered. "No… it doesn't seem like one."
He was lying on a large bed, the sheets silky and smooth. The air was damp, and the walls were made of something dark—stone? His vision was still blurry, but something about this place felt off.
He slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up.
"Huh?"
Something was wrong.
His legs felt smaller. His entire body felt lighter, weaker. He looked down, his hands trembling as he examined himself. His arms were thinner, his fingers slender, his chest flat and bony.
"What the hell happened to me?"
Panic set in. He rushed forward, almost stumbling, until his eyes landed on something hanging on the wall—a mirror.
And what he saw made his blood freeze.
A young man stared back at him.
Pale skin, thin body, and—horns. Small, dark horns protruding from his head.
"What the fuck…?"
Leon stumbled back, his breath coming in short, rapid gasps.
"Who the hell is this?!"
His hands ran over his face, tracing features that weren't his own. This wasn't the face of a man in his 40s. It was someone much younger—early 20s at most.
He grabbed at his arms, his chest, his face, desperately trying to wake up from this nightmare.
"I must be dreaming. This isn't real. It can't be real."
His pulse was racing. His mind couldn't keep up.
Then—pain.
A sudden, sharp pain exploded in his skull, unlike anything he had ever felt before.
"AAAGGGGHHHHH!"
Leon dropped to the floor, clutching his head. Images, memories, voices—things that weren't his—rushed into his mind all at once.
A battlefield drenched in blood.
A dying king.
A kingdom in ruins.
A name—his name.
"Young master!"
A voice. Distant yet close.
"Young master, are you okay?!"
More voices. Urgent. Concerned.
Leon barely registered them before the pain overwhelmed him completely.
His vision darkened.
And then—nothing.