The First Breath

In the quiet dark before breath, he wove the strands of his nature, embedding choice into instinct. He arrived into a suspended reality, a summer where the solid ground of the past had turned to sand, and the air vibrated with the vertigo of a world that had forgotten how to stand still.

His first years were marked by static and sharp edges. The city was shedding its skin, trading silence for noise, stacking sudden luxury against ancient decay. As he learned to steady his steps, the pavement beneath him remained restless, pulsing with the aggressive energy of a society scrambling to reinvent itself.

Beneath the clamor, a quiet promise began to hum through the walls. It traveled on unseen currents, a faint, rhythmic pulse from a vast and invisible web. It entered the dimly lit rooms not as an intrusion, but as a soft, beckoning glow—a new horizon expanding within the glass, offering the first tether to a world far larger than the one outside.