The deafening screams of people meeting their unfortunate end, the thunderous roar of a fire-breathing dragon soaring through the air, and the chilling laughter of heartless men assaulted my senses.

I clenched my eyes shut, desperately pressing my hands against my ears in a futile attempt to block out the din. In this chaos, faces I'd never known succumbed to flames and anguish, leaving my sanity hanging by a thread. I hoped everything was just a simple nightmare.

After a fleeting moment, I became aware of the quivering in my limbs—a visceral reaction to the overwhelming scenery I saw. Raw and palpable fear tightened its grip on my heart. 'Where am I? Why am I here?' I couldn't shake the haunting question: 'Am I going to die here too?'

'Rather, is this hell?' 

The question emerged as a desperate attempt to make sense of the surreal, nightmarish landscape before me. With each passing second, the feeling of dread deepened, and I found myself searching for familiarity and solace in this strange world of uncertainty.

Out of nowhere, a delicate and soothing voice reached out to me: ''N-Nazari... brother...''

The sound seemed to materialize from thin air, wrapping me in a comforting embrace. An inexplicable warmth, akin to the gentle touch of another's skin, enveloped me.

Her tranquil presence exuded a calmness that was almost tangible, and in her company, my racing heartbeat began to slow. Curiosity drove me to turn and gaze upon the speaker, someone who knew my name and role as a brother. Yet, the familiarity was tempered by an air of unfamiliarity, as if I should know her but couldn't place her in my memories.

As I tried to scrutinize her features, to discern who she was, my gaze locked with hers. Those eyes, like gleaming jewels of gold, held me captive.

At that moment, recognition ignited like a spark in the darkness, and a cascade of memories tumbled forth, each piece falling into its rightful place. The jigsaw puzzle of my past began to assemble itself before my eyes, the haze of forgetfulness lifting with startling clarity.

The body I possessed belonged to a 10-year-old boy who bore the same name as mine: Nazari. The girl who clung to me with familiar affection was none other than his twin sister, Zarani.

In their world, a warm, loving family served as the cornerstone of their existence. A mother and father showered them with boundless affection, crafting a haven of love that shielded them from life's trials.

Their family cocoon extended to the thriving village they called home, a haven of prosperity where harmony was a way of life. Days stretched seamlessly, bathed in a serene peace that embraced their lives.


Yet, as the clockwork of fate would have it, an ominous day loomed on the horizon. The nightmarish ordeal unfolded with relentless cruelty, as the group of knights and their colossal black dragon descended upon the peaceful village.

In a desperate bid to protect their children, Nazari and Zarani's parents ushered them into the hidden basement, where a tunnel connected to the nearby forest. There, their parents made a solemn promise to follow, once they had ensured the villagers' safety—a testament to their unwavering duty as the village's leaders.

But fate, it seemed, had a darker script to write. As the parents prepared to protect the others, an ominous presence shrouded the space. A man cloaked in scarlet materialized like a sinister specter, showing no mercy as he ruthlessly extinguished their parents' lives and plucked their very eyes from their sockets.

It all happened in an instant, and their parents helplessly couldn't do anything.

The twins, Nazari and Zarani, bore witness to this gruesome tragedy from their concealed vantage point, peering through the narrow gap in the wooden floor. The blood of their parents dripped down over their heads, each drop a haunting testimony to the brutality of that moment.

Nazari, overcome with fierce and unbridled anger, nearly cried out, his sorrow and fear overshadowed by an overwhelming feeling of rage.

In that harrowing instant, Zarani's quick thinking saved them both. She covered her brother's mouth and, with unwavering determination, forcibly pulled him away from that horrifying scene.

Together, they fled deeper into the forest, their hearts heavy with the weight of their loss, their eyes now bearing witness to their precious village being consumed by flames.

Realizing this, doubt gnawed at me—was this a memory I had lived, or a dream woven from the threads of my imagination spurred by death? Or perhaps being Nazari on Earth was simply a boring dream I had?

Despite the uncertainty, one thing remained undeniable: the cold pain of my death and the sting on my ring finger—a sensation too vivid to dismiss.

Yet, these heavy feelings I currently experienced—the weight of sorrow, helplessness, and anger intermingled, creating a storm of emotions that raged within me. I felt as though a fire raged beneath my skin, a blaze of anger and spitefulness that begged for release yet remained trapped within my chest.

This pain, this hatred, this anguish—it's all MINE. It was a part of me, a thread connecting me to a past that I could no longer deny or ignore.

The urge to release my pent-up emotions was overwhelming. I longed to scream, shout, swear, and cry!

But the circumstances were unyielding. The situation offered no respite for such outbursts. The turbulent storm within me found its outlet in the silent cascade of tears.

It's an emotion, a life that was now mine to remember, to understand, and perhaps to reclaim.

In the midst of this emotional maelstrom, the warmth of my twin, Zarani, reminded me that I wasn't alone. As I wept in silence, she was there to offer solace, her own tears mingling with mine. In her embrace, I found a lifeline to hold onto—the last connection to the family I had lost.

Though words may have failed us, the warmth of our presence spoke volumes. We clung tightly to the thought that we still had each other.

Shrouded in the haze of adrenaline and fear, my memory was vague on how we managed to flee the place while being chased by some remaining knights. What I could recall with clarity was the instinctive expertise that guided us through those dangerous moments.


Our steps whispered like the wind, blending with the landscape as if we were born in the mountains. It was a skill we had honed over days spent playing in the mountain range.

The terrain had become second nature to us, a canvas upon which we painted our mastery of evasion. Every crevice, every contour of the earth, became our ally as we moved through the twisting trails—a game of hide-and-seek played with deadly intent.


With precision born from necessity, we erased our tracks as if they were never there. The knights chasing us were left with nothing but illusions—chasing after shadows that faded into the mist. We moved as one, twins bound by an unspoken understanding and fierce determination to survive.

.....

It had only been a month, yet the memories of that tragic day remained vivid, freezing time in its aftermath. The attack on our village continued to haunt us, leaving its scars fresh in our minds. The lingering question weighed heavily: 'What had we done wrong?'


Nothing.


They appeared from the shadows, striking with swift and calculated cruelty, leaving us defenseless. Their arrival was abrupt, and their motives were unfathomable. In their wake, they left a trail of devastation, extinguishing lives and reducing our world to ashes.

They were no ordinary force; they held the might of an organization, bolstered by the shadowy presence of a dragon.

A singular detail etched itself into my memory—the killer of our parents. The only clue I have is the black veins on his hands, like a ghastly tattoo.

The reflection that stared back at me from the clear, tranquil water of the river featured golden eyes akin to precious jewels and hair as vibrant as a blooming rose.

The handsome countenance of a young boy gazed back, a mirror image of myself. My slender arms and small-framed body completed the picture, and despite my efforts to rationalize it as a mere dream, it stabbed me with reality

The 27-year-old Nazari had been entirely erased from this form. Now, I inhabited the body of a 10-year-old Nazari—a reality that was inescapable and undeniable.

I was still Nazari but not exactly the same Nazari.

Now, facing this second chance at life, tangled with chaos, how should I navigate my path forward?

I quickly plunged the wooden spear, crafted from Zarani's dagger, into the water. The unfortunate fish fought valiantly for its life, but its struggles were in vain as it eventually succumbed to its fate and lay lifeless.


'I need to learn everything about this world—its culture, history, and anything that can aid us. Moreover, I must hone my skills swiftly, before those pursuing us catch up and we end up just like this fish. I need to become stronger, to protect Zarani, and to LIVE.'

I was on the verge of calling out to my twin, eager to proudly display my catch when she...

"ZARANI!!!" My voice ripped through the air, laced with desperation, panic, and fear. My world seemed to slow as I watched her cough up blood.
 
 
 
"No! Don't die, don't die." The beat of my heart quickened as I held her pale and feverish form while repeating those words like a mantra.

"Naz..." she weakly called while fighting the pain.

"I'm here, Zan... I'm here..." My voice quivered, tears mingling with the shadows as I held her trembling hand, searching for me.

"I... c-can't see... anything..." Her fragile words spilled from her lips like harsh whispers carried by the wind. Tears that had once welled in her eyes now mingled with blood.

Each mumbled word, each syllable of her agony, was like a sharp blade that found its mark in my heart. The weight of helplessness bore down on me, like anchor dragging me into the depths of despair. It was a pain beyond words, witnessing her suffering.

At that moment, all I wished for was to ease her suffering, to bear her agony myself.

I carefully lifted her onto my back, urgency driving away tears. "Zan, hold on... everything will be fine," I promised, my voice filled with determination and hope.

Her weight reminded me of her fragility, a fact I had foolishly overlooked. "Please, don't let my only family die," I prayed, the words a fervent plea sent to the universe, to any entity and god that could help us.