Chapter 1 - No Extra Lives

Welcome to Arbelon

Jun 28, 2025

Here’s Chapter One as promised.

I won’t spoil anything. Just know this is where it all starts…

Chapter One - Welcome to Arbelon

Shadows twisted unnaturally in the fading light, and the forest held its secrets just out of reach. Thane ducked under a low branch, breath ragged, his feet skidding on brittle leaves. Behind him, the snap of breaking twigs and a guttural growl sent a chill creeping down his spine.

It was too close, and gaining.

His heart pounded with his footfalls, each step heavier than the last as a clearing loomed ahead—a beacon and a taunt. But whatever the hell that thing was chasing him, it wasn’t slowing down.

It was too big, too fast—especially for a newbie.

The forest pressed in around him, its twisted shadows clawing at the edges of his vision. He'd been pushing hard, and his legs screamed for rest, warning him he couldn't keep this pace much longer. What’s the point of running? Each breath came shallower. Because giving up still felt worse.

The clearing ahead glimmered faintly, like the path had been laid out just for him.

There was no other way.

He gritted his teeth, willing himself onward, uncertain if he was being herded to the clearing or called by it.

“Fantastic,” he muttered. “Five minutes in, and I’m already a goner. Great design.”

Out of the darkness behind him, an ear-piercing roar erupted, even closer than before, shaking loose the last leaves clinging to the branches. There was no point in looking back, only forward—every step felt like borrowed time.

Lunging forward, he jumped a fallen tree trunk. He landed unsteady and risked a glance back. Yellowed eyes glared from the shadows, fixed on him. The beast tore through the underbrush as if it didn’t exist, its growl vibrating the air like a physical force.

This thing is completely broken! It’s on me, like it knows my next move before I do!

His gut tightened, his breath hitching as he pushed harder, the faint flicker of light ahead was his only hope of escape.

Move, you invalid!

But his body refused—something he knew too well.

With his last ounce of energy, he forced himself forward, but his foot snagged on a root buried beneath the leaves. In the next instant, the ground slammed the air from his lungs. Pain flared through his wrist—sharp, unforgiving.

Panic surged, his thoughts racing faster than his body could respond. Gasping, he twisted onto his back, dirt clinging to his hands as his eyes shot upward.

The beast emerged from the trees with a low snarl, its jagged maw dripping with saliva, its breath reeking of decay. Claws clicked and glinted faintly in the dim light—each one sharp, curved, and far too close.

The beast lunged, a blur of shadow and fury, its claws slicing through the air.

Thane rolled, but wasn't fast enough.

Pain ripped through his side, sharp and searing, and he cried out, his hand clutching at the burning line where the beast’s talons had raked him. Warmth spread beneath his fingers, sticky and hot, as blood soaked through his shirt. His breaths came in shallow gasps, his body screaming for relief. He gritted his teeth and tried to push up, but his arms shook under the effort as the beast’s snarl reverberated through the forest like a death knell.

His body tensed, bracing for the end as he squeezed his eyes shut. Why do I even care if I make it out of this? Alive or dead, what difference does it make? But instead of a final blow, something inside him surged—a raw, chaotic force demanding release.

The ground pulsed beneath him with unseen power, a sudden heat bloomed in his chest, the surrounding air rippled and bent, like water struck by a stone. Before he could comprehend it, the force erupted like a lightning strike—jagged and blinding, scattering shards of light and energy in every direction. He felt it tear through him, wild and unbidden, as if his body had become a conduit for something far beyond his grasp.

The air twisted violently around the beast, hurling it into the trees with a deafening crash. It stumbled, claws flailing, then turned. Its eyes—once predatory—were wide with terror. With a guttural screech, it dragged its shattered form back into the shadows of the woods.

Thane blinked, his vision swimming, the energy draining from his body as quickly as it came, leaving him breathless. His hands trembled. The air still crackling faintly with an unnatural energy that made his skin crawl.

His gaze lingered on the trees where the beast had retreated, its trail of blackened blood marking the forest floor. Against all odds, he’d survived.

“That was… unexpected,” he muttered bitterly, collapsing back into the dirt. Each breath clawed at his chest, sharp and ragged, his body felt like lead, too battered to move.

The light ahead seemed almost mocking now, taunting him with the promise of salvation he wasn’t sure he wanted or deserved. Darkness pressed at the edges of his vision, but he forced his eyes open. His mind churned with bitter thoughts, the sting of failure twisting with the lingering heat of whatever had just happened to him. For a moment, he lay still, wondering why he’d bothered fighting so hard to survive.

The sound of hurried footsteps broke the silence, distant voices calling out—echoing, and strangely warm.

He flinched instinctively as hands gently lifted him from the dirt. The faces above him blurred, yet one caught his attention—a young woman with piercing green eyes that seemed too bright in the fading light, her hair shimmering like spun gold. Her lips moved, saying something soft and urgent, her voice cutting through the haze, oddly distinct.

He let out a faint, bitter laugh, his voice hoarse. “You should just leave me. I’m dead already.”

But they didn’t leave him.

The villagers steadied his battered form, pressing tightly against his wound as they guided him toward the clearing ahead. As they moved, lantern light flickered through the trees, revealing a cluster of cottages with steeply slanted roofs forming a tight-knit circle. Their windows glowed warmly against the encroaching twilight, smoke curling from chimneys and the faintly sweet scents of baked bread and drying herbs mingling in the air. The village had a fairy book charm, quaint and serene—but Thane barely noticed. His vision swimming with each jostling step.

"Careful," a gruff voice muttered. "He’s bleeding badly."

An older man in tattered brown robes rushed from one of the cottages to meet the group as they entered the village. "What under Arbelon’s watch happened out there?" he asked, his voice sharp with alarm.

The girl with the green eyes stepped forward. "It was… wild magic," she said, her voice catching as if the words were too heavy.

The older man froze, his eyes narrowing as the words hung in the air. His hand moved instinctively to the small pendant around his neck, clutching it as if for protection.

"Wild magic?" he repeated, his voice dropping to a hushed tone, equal parts disbelief and unease. His gaze shifted sharply to Thane, scrutinizing him as though he were a puzzle with missing pieces. "Are you certain?"

The girl nodded solemnly. "I saw it myself."

Hushed whispers rippled among the villagers, curiosity and concern coloring their tones. A few hung back, their expressions wary, while others leaned closer, eyes wide with wonder. A woman clutched a charm at her neck, whispering a hurried prayer. A man knelt, closing his eyes, muttering something under his breath, while another stared at Thane with wide-eyed awe. Murmured words like “blessing” and “omen” slipped past his ears, blurring into static drowned by the pain pulsing through his side.

Whatever reverence they thought he deserved, Thane couldn’t have cared less. Let them cling to their omens and blessings. It wouldn’t change a thing.

The older man hesitated, glancing between Thane and the girl, as if weighing the truth of her words. His grip on the pendant tightened briefly before he took a steadying breath and leaned down to inspect the wound, his brow furrowing. Straightening, he placed a firm hand on Thane’s shoulder.

“You’re hurt—badly. You need healing,” he said before turning to the others. “Bring him to the Sanctuary. If what she says is true, we may need the power of the Heart.”

The arms around him tightened to usher him forward, but Thane thrashed weakly, pushing them aside.

“Thanks, I’ll just walk it off,” he rasped, his voice cutting through the crisp night air. His legs gave out almost immediately, and he stumbled to his knees, clutching at the deep wounds on his side.

He let out a bitter laugh. “Or never mind—bleeding out works too.”

"Not on my watch," the older man said, stepping forward and catching Thane as he crumpled to the ground. "Quickly, to the Sanctuary," he commanded, his voice ringing with resounding authority.

The villagers responded immediately, moving with coordinated urgency. Thane barely registered the murmurs around him, his thoughts clouded by searing pain and exhaustion. Hands lifted him roughly onto a cart, the motion jarring his wounds, dragging a groan from his lips. He tried again to push them away, but his limbs felt like lead, refusing his commands.

The wheels creaked as the cart began to roll, each bump stabbing through his side. Thane let his head slump back, glaring weakly at the canopy of trees and blurred rooflines above.

They should’ve left me.

Bitterness curled in his chest as the cart jostled forward. The weight of their hands, the unspoken hope in their eyes—it all felt heavier than his wounds.

Hope was crueler than indifference.

His head thudded lightly against the cart as it jostled forward, every bump dragging him further into exhaustion. The older man leaned close, his voice low but urgent.

“We’re close,” he said, gripping the side of the cart for balance.

Lanterns swayed from wooden poles mounted to the cart, their light casting trembling shadows along the path. The cart rolled to a stop on a stone veranda bathed in silver light. At its center stood a structure unlike anything Thane had ever seen—an amalgamation of carved stone and living wood. Towering spires rose at either end, their surfaces entwined with branches glimmering faintly, as though kissed by starlight. A similar light spilled through crystalline windows, dappling the ground in fractured colors.

The air hummed faintly, its energy prickling at Thane’s skin, too tangible to ignore. He took it all in, a hollow chuckle escaping his lips. _Should've seen that coming. Starlight and spires—of course._ His sarcasm clinging to the edges of his fatigue.

The older man jumped from the cart with surprising agility, landing with a soft thud that barely registered to Thane. “Get him inside,” he commanded.

Two villagers hurried to either side of the cart, their hands trembling slightly as they lifted Thane carefully, their faces etched with a mix of fear and reverence. The cool air of the Sanctuary hit him like a splash of water, its tingling energy crawling over his skin as they carried him toward the doorway.

The interior of the Sanctuary was a blend of ancient and ethereal. Vines traced across the walls, their silvery glow pulsing gently, as though carrying the lifeblood of the Sanctuary itself. At the chamber’s center, a shimmering pool of liquid starlight stood still, its surface smooth as glass. The roots of the Sanctuary’s great tree dipped into the pool, their bark glinting as if infused with its power.

As the villagers carried Thane into the chamber, the pool rippled softly, sending waves of fractured silver light dancing across the chamber walls. Its glow seemed to ebb and flow in time with the soft hum that filled the air, a hum that Thane could feel resonating faintly in his chest.

At the far end, a raised platform of tightly woven branches and vines gleamed with a metallic sheen, its light echoing the pool’s glow. The pool itself was no ordinary reservoir—it was a conduit, its energy drawn from the distant but ever-present Heart of Arbelon.

For a fleeting moment, Thane’s breath hitched, the strange energy both soothing and deeply unnerving, as though the Sanctuary was watching him. He forced his gaze away, focusing instead on the sharp pulse of pain in his side.

The villagers laid Thane on the raised platform. The older man leaned over him, murmuring softly under his breath, his hands hovering just above Thane’s wounds. The glow of the vines woven into the platform seemed to intensify, as though responding to the man’s whispered words.

A warmth spread through Thane’s side, dulling the sharp pain, but it felt wrong—too intimate, too caring—and he hated it. Hated how it dulled the pain, hated how it made him feel tethered to them.

He didn’t want their empathy—he’d come here to escape that.

Turning, he shook it off, forcing his thoughts back to the ache in his side.

“He’s not responding,” one of the villagers muttered anxiously, glancing between Thane and the older man.

The older man shook his head. “Give it time. The Heart’s magic doesn’t always work as we expect.” His voice held an edge of doubt, though he tried to mask it.

Thane’s lips twitched in a bitter smirk. “Don’t worry,” he rasped. “I’ll try to make it to the next save point.”

The girl with the green eyes had followed them inside, standing at a distance, her expression unreadable. When Thane’s gaze flicked to her, something in her intensity struck him, but he forced himself to look away. She stepped forward, her voice steady despite the tension in the air.

“The Heart… it reacted when we brought him here,” she said, her voice faltering as though she feared the weight of her words. “I saw it—surely you did too.”

The older man’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as they fixed on the Heart’s pulsing glow. “There will be time for such talk later,” he said, though his gaze lingered on the silvery pool. “Now, we focus on saving him.”

“But…” she began, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Could it be him? The prophecy?”

Thane let out a sharp breath, the words cutting through his haze of pain. Starlight, spires, and now a prophecy. They’re really leaning into the classics here. His gaze flicked to the pool, its glow almost mocking. They’re waiting for a savior. Instead, they got me.

He closed his eyes, the warmth of the platform pulling him into a haze he didn’t want to leave.

"Not now, Lirien," the old man said, cutting her off before turning back to Thane. His voice dropped to a low chant, his words curling like smoke in the air as his hands once again hovered over Thane’s wounds. The glow of the vines pulsed brighter, bathing the platform in an eerie light that seemed to breathe with the rhythm of his murmurs. The light ebbed and flowed in tandem with the pool’s pulsing glow, their rhythms gradually syncing.

A faint, shimmering rune surfaced on the platform, its outline glowing brighter as though drawn from the pool’s energy. The rune pulsed faintly beneath him, its lines spiraling inward before breaking apart into a jagged, incomplete circle. Whispers erupted from the villagers, their reverent awe filling the chamber as the old man turned to see the rune mirrored in the woven vines on the chamber walls.

“It’s the mark,” someone murmured, their voice trembling. Their voices rose like a prayer, soft and reverent. Thane’s stomach twisted, the weight of their belief pressing against him like a stone. They didn’t know him. Didn’t know how wrong they were.

The old man’s face grew tight, his gaze fixed on the glowing runes before turning slowly to Lirien. “The Broken Circle…” he said, his voice heavy with wonder and dread. His fingers brushed Thane's arm, as though confirming he was truly there.

“It’s him,” Lirien said, her voice a mixture of hope and excitement, her eyes fixed on Thane. “The Sanctuary knew it, and now the Heart confirms it. He can save Arbelon!”

The light erupted with one last pulse, and Thane opened his eyes. The exhaustion was gone. Looking down at his side, he saw the wound had closed, leaving only a jagged scar behind.

“It calls to him,” the old man murmured, dropping to his knees, tears glinting in his eyes. “The prophecy speaks true—the Chosen One has come.”

Thane let out a sharp breath, the words cutting through his haze of pain. Right. Chosen One. Like I haven't heard that one before. He let out a dry snort. Nothing screams 'savior' like a guy who can't save himself. They clearly didn't realize it yet, but he wasn't here to save them or be their golden boy. This wasn’t destiny—it was a distraction, a way to kill time. And the sooner they figured that out, the better.

“Believe whatever you want,” Thane muttered, forcing himself to sit up. “It doesn’t make it real.”

“You talk like none of this matters,” Lirien said, her voice soft, searching for answers.

Thane’s smirk faltered for the briefest moment, but he looked away before she could see the crack.

Over Lirien’s shoulder, a section of the pool’s edge shimmered strangely, the smooth curve breaking into jagged, pixelated angles before snapping back to normal. He blinked, the moment so fleeting it could’ve been a trick of the light. But something about it gnawed at him. This place is barely holding together. He chuckled, dry and quiet, and looked back at Lirien. “Like I said, believe whatever you want.”

Lirien stepped closer, her voice unwavering now despite the tremor in her hands. “You can pretend it’s nothing,” she said, her green eyes piercing through him. “But this world sees you. Whether you like it or not.”

The priest rose, his mouth open to speak, but a voice he knew all too well sliced through the air.

Thane’s time was up.

For a moment, he lingered, fingers brushing the faint warmth of the platform. The light of the Sanctuary felt like it had soaked into his skin, a faint hum still vibrating in his chest. It was warm, even inviting.

“Thane! Take off that headset!” The sharp edge of his mother’s voice dragged him back.

The warmth of the Sanctuary evaporated as the band of the VR headset scraped against his forehead. He pulled it free, leaving a faint, clammy imprint.

His bedroom felt colder than it had any right to be, the fluorescent light buzzing overhead, harsh and unrelenting. The weight of his room—too real, too plain—settled around him like a suffocating blanket.

“Thane,” his mother’s voice called again, softer now but no less insistent. “Come on, sweetie. The doctor’s here.”

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his gaze flicking to the game interface still lingering on the monitor.

Sanctuary Sequence Complete.
Achievement Unlocked.

The words blinked once with a subtle chime, then disappeared. His reflection stared back at him, hollow-eyed and pale, the faint glow of the monitor highlighting every fragile angle.

“Chosen One?” He snorted bitterly. If they knew the truth, they’d have picked someone else.

“Yeah… I’m coming,” he muttered, his voice flat as he pushed himself to his feet. The soft hum of the Sanctuary gave way to the whir of his computer's cooling fan, the faint floral scents of Arbelon replaced by the flat, stale air of his room.

As he stepped toward the door, his hand lingered on the frame. For just a second, he let himself wonder what it would feel like to be unbroken—whole. The thought passed as quickly as it came, leaving him cold. With a quiet exhale, he stepped back into reality.

This is all there is. No glowing runes. No whispered prophecies—just doctors and countdowns.