I wake up with a sudden gasp, my chest rising and falling rapidly, as if I had been holding my breath for too long. The air is heavy in my lungs, and it takes several moments for me to regain control. My body feels strange—too small, too fragile. I blink my eyes open, squinting against the sunlight that filters through the canopy of leaves above. The sun is still low, casting a soft golden hue across the world. The forest surrounding me is alive with the sounds of birds and rustling leaves, but the air is thick, thick with the smell of damp earth and moss, not the crisp, polished scent of marble floors I'm used to. The ground beneath me is hard, not soft like the thick carpet in my chambers.

I push myself up, my arms shaking as I try to balance. There's a feeling in my limbs that I don't recognize, like they haven't moved in years. My legs, too, are unsteady beneath me, as if they've forgotten their purpose. My heart pounds in my chest, panic rising with every moment. I look around, the disorienting scene making my thoughts swirl.

Where am I? What's happening? This can't be right.

I should be in the palace, shouldn't I? I should be surrounded by marble walls, polished silver chandeliers, servants rushing to attend to my every need. I should be wearing fine silk, my hair combed and properly styled by the palace servants. I should be the center of attention, a prince with every right to expect loyalty and deference. But none of that is here. The only thing around me is the thick, verdant forest, the trees stretching far above, their leaves shimmering in the light of the early morning sun. There are no walls of gold, no servants to tend to me.

Panic surges through me again as I realize that my memories feel clouded, as though they are slipping through my fingers. I try to reach for the familiar images of my life, but they're distant, faded. The image of a throne, a grand hall—my kingdom—feels like someone else's past, not mine. I shake my head violently, forcing myself to focus.

I stagger to my feet, feeling the weight of unfamiliar limbs. My movements are jerky and uncoordinated. I don't even know if my feet will hold me. But I force myself to keep going, to stay upright. The forest feels alive, almost as if it is watching me. The trees tower above me, their gnarled roots twisting in and out of the earth. I feel so small, so insignificant compared to their age and stature.

I try to steady my breath, each inhale sending a sharp pang through my chest, but I can't make sense of it. What's going on? What happened to me?

My mind reels with confusion, but one thought persists above the rest: I know who I am. I am Prince Alaric. The name rings out in my mind like a bell, but the certainty doesn't bring comfort. It feels like a distant echo. I am Prince Alaric, heir to the kingdom of Valleria. I should be in my palace, not lost in this strange wilderness.

I had a crown. I had a throne. The people looked to me, they listened to me. I was going to be a great ruler. But now? Now I am in the middle of nowhere, unable to even understand the basic movements of my own body. This doesn't make sense.

What happened?

I glance around, trying to make sense of my surroundings. The forest is thick with trees, their leaves casting dappled shadows on the ground. It's not the royal gardens. This is wild, untamed. The kind of place I've never seen before. There's no scent of polished wood, no carefully curated flowers. The air smells earthy, like rain-soaked wood and grass, not the sterile, ordered scent of palace corridors. I try to shake off the panic, but it remains lodged in my chest, tight and suffocating.

I need to find out where I am. There's a village ahead, I notice, a cluster of small, humble buildings in the distance. Smoke rises from chimneys, mixing with the clouds above. I begin to walk toward it, but each step feels foreign, like I'm learning how to walk again, how to move through this body.

My feet drag, as though my mind is too slow to command my body. The familiar movements of grace and poise, the ones I once used to navigate through the palace halls, are absent. Everything is wrong. The air, the ground, the sensation of my limbs. It feels like I've been transported somewhere else entirely. And with each step, the gnawing unease grows in my chest. Something is wrong here. Deeply wrong.

As I approach the village, I notice something strange. The people don't look at me. No one even seems to acknowledge my presence. Farmers, children, merchants—every single one of them walks by without sparing me a glance. They don't even seem to notice me.

I stop in the middle of the clearing, trying to project the image of someone who belongs here, someone who commands respect. I am a prince, after all. I should be treated as one. But no one cares. No one looks at me, no one offers me a second thought. They just go about their day, unconcerned. I stand tall, my chin lifted, hoping that someone will take notice, but it's as if I'm invisible.

"Excuse me," I call out to a man carrying a basket of produce. My voice is steady, demanding, yet it sounds almost foreign coming from me. The man doesn't respond. He doesn't even glance at me. He keeps walking, his basket swinging gently with every step.

I feel a tightness in my chest. Something isn't right. My pulse quickens. Why are they ignoring me? Don't they know who I am?

I step forward, frustration bubbling inside me. "Hey!" I shout, louder this time. "I said excuse me!"

Finally, the man turns to face me, but the expression on his face is not one of respect. It's not awe, or fear, or even curiosity. It's indifference. He looks at me as if I'm nothing more than another passerby. His face is blank, his brow furrowed slightly. He seems unaffected by my tone, as though my words have no weight at all. "Aye?" he asks in a thick accent I don't recognize.

I blink, momentarily thrown off by his response. This isn't right. Something is very wrong here. My irritation flares. "You should bow when you speak to me!" The words slip out without my command. It's not like me to be so... blunt.

But the man just shrugs and continues on his way, his basket swinging as he disappears into the crowd.

I stand there, frozen, a chill running down my spine. The sting of humiliation lingers in my chest. I want to shout again, demand an explanation, but something holds me back. It's as if I'm no longer the person I thought I was. The people around me aren't treating me as the heir to the throne. They're not treating me like a prince at all. I am no one to them.

The realization settles in, heavy and suffocating. I'm not just another face in the crowd—I am invisible. I am forgotten. But I was never forgotten. I was never no one. That was not my life.

The world around me spins. I stagger back, trying to steady myself. This isn't just confusion. This is something more. Something far worse. The world I knew is slipping away, slipping through my fingers like sand.

I turn away from the market square, my mind a whirlwind of questions. I need to understand. What's happening to me? Why does everything feel so wrong? Why are they ignoring me? What happened to the life I knew? The palace? My servants? My advisors?

I need to find answers. I need to find someone who will look at me. Someone who will see me as the prince I am.

I walk aimlessly through the village, each step heavy with uncertainty. The houses are small, the walls rough-hewn stone, the air thick with the smell of wood and fire. It's a far cry from the polished marble floors and golden ceilings of the palace. The bustling streets of Valleria feel like another world entirely.

A small inn catches my eye, the sign creaking on its hinge in the breeze. I hesitate for a moment before pushing the door open, the dim interior offering no comfort. The fire burns low in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. A few patrons sit at the tables, their murmurs low and indistinct. They glance up as I enter, but there's no recognition in their eyes. No deference, no curiosity. They're uninterested in me. A stranger to them.

The innkeeper—a woman with tired eyes, her face weathered by years of hard work—looks up as I approach the counter. "What'll it be, sir?" she asks flatly.

I try to steady my thoughts, to appear calm, but I can't shake the unease gnawing at me. "Food," I say, my voice sharper than I intend. "And something to drink."

She nods without a second glance, her movements mechanical as she goes to fetch the food. I sit down at a table, my fingers drumming nervously on the worn wood. The silence presses in on me, thick and suffocating. I should be somewhere else. Somewhere grand. Somewhere that matters.

When the food arrives, I eat mechanically, my mind racing. The bowl of broth is lukewarm, the bread stale and dry. It does nothing to comfort me. My thoughts are still reeling, chasing after a reality I can no longer reach. The faces of the people from my kingdom are fading. My power, my throne—everything I once had—feels so distant, as though it belonged to someone else entirely.

A strange ache wells up in my chest. It's as if something is missing, something important. A person, a place—a kingdom? The memories flicker in my mind, but they're blurry, ungraspable. I clutch the edge of the table, trying to steady myself.

This world is not mine. I have been thrown into someone else's life. A life where I don't matter. A life where I'm nothing.

But I will not stay here. I will not be forgotten. I will find a way back.