Chapter 1

The shrill sound of air tearing apart suddenly stopped, replaced by a suffocating, absolute silence.

Meereen's eyes snapped open, his vision a blur of swirling emerald green and deep brown. Sharp pain rippled through his limbs, especially in his left ribs and ankle. Every breath he took felt like the slicing of a blunt knife. He tried to move, but his body felt heavy as if it were filled with lead, sinking futilely into the thick, damp, and strangely smelling humus beneath him.

Where is this?

Memories were like shattered glass, leaving only chaotic fragments: the piercing alarm, the bright light tearing through the sky, the feeling of falling without control, and... and the cold despair that overwhelmed everything. He instinctively curled up, and this movement pulled at the wound, causing him to let out a suppressed groan of pain.

The sharp pain brought him back to consciousness a little. He forced himself to open his eyes again, and this time, his vision was clearer.

The first thing that seized his senses was green. A vibrant green so intense it seemed almost dripping, covering every corner of his vision. Impossibly massive trees rose from the ground, their gnarled roots like the backs of sleeping dragons, burrowing deep into a thick carpet of moss and ferns. Their trunks were so thick they required several men to embrace them, and their bark a deep iron-gray or almost blackish-brown, riddled with furrows and ancient veins that spoke of unimaginable age. At heights so high that it was almost impossible to see, the treetops intertwined into a dense dome, slicing the sky into fragments. What filtered through those cracks was not dust-stained sunlight, but a strange, filtered, cool, celestial light, punctuated by the twinkling light of stars, visible even in daylight.

Stars? Daytime? Milin's confused mind couldn't comprehend such a scene. The sky of his world had long been obscured by turbid clouds. Stars so pure and so close to him only existed in distant and vague childhood memories or cold virtual projections.

The air carried a rich, tangy aroma unique to primeval forests: moist earth, rotting leaves, some sweet-smelling flower, and an indescribable freshness, as clean as if untouched by civilization. With each breath, this rich, almost dizzying air surged into his lungs, carrying with it a cool, sap-scented vitality, a stark contrast to the murky air he remembered, tinged with metal and ozone. He took several deep, greedy breaths, a touch of fear, like a drowning man clutching at driftwood.

It was quiet, but not dead. In the distance, the ethereal, melodious sound of birdsong, unlike anything he had ever heard before, rose and fell like a natural symphony. Nearby, a subtle rustle echoed beneath the thick layer of fallen leaves, perhaps the movement of some small creature. A gentle breeze brushed through the tall treetops, bringing with it a deep, yet resonant, rustling sound, like the forest itself breathing steadily. This sound was richer and more ancient than any wind he had ever known. An absolute, awe-inspiring sense of antiquity permeated every inch of the air, oppressing his nerves.

He strained his neck, trying to take in his surroundings. The ground was covered in a thick, velvety moss that must have been incredibly soft to step on. It was dotted with mushrooms and fungi he had never seen before, brightly colored, some even emitting a faint, dreamy glow. Huge ferns stretched out their feathery leaves, nearly half his height, their edges densely serrated. Tangled vines dangled from the heights, some as thick as arms, covered in moist, dark green moss or bearing tiny, exotic flowers. Berries gleamed in the low bushes, an alluring yet suspicious sheen.

There were no roads, no signs, no trace of civilization. This realization sent a chilling panic through him. He was completely lost. No, worse than lost, he seemed to have been thrown into a completely unfamiliar, primitive, mythical wilderness. Fragments of his pre-crash memories flooded back: that blinding white light, that violent explosion that had flung him to the end of the world? Or perhaps another world?

"Ugh..." His attempt to push himself up was interrupted by another sharp pain in his ribs, and he fell back into the pile of rotten leaves, sending up a spray of dust. The swelling in his ankle became increasingly noticeable. Fear, like a cold vine, began to wrap around his heart. This place was beautiful, breathtakingly beautiful, yet also primitive and dangerous. What lay hidden in those dense shadows? Were those strange plants poisonous? What would haunt him after nightfall?

The instinct for survival finally overwhelmed the shock and fear. He couldn't lie here and wait to die. No matter where this was, he had to survive.

Milin gritted his teeth and focused all his attention on controlling his breathing. He took every breath carefully to avoid straining the injured left rib. He slowly moved his uninjured right hand and right leg, feeling the condition of his body. Aside from his ribs and ankle, the rest of his body seemed to be mostly scrapes and bruises, but fortunately there were no serious open wounds. He began to try to use the strength of his right arm and right leg, moving very slowly, bit by bit, towards the roots of a huge ancient tree nearby. The ground there was relatively higher, with thick tree roots to lean on, and it seemed a little drier, and could provide a little psychological barrier.

Every movement was accompanied by excruciating pain and immense exertion. Sweat quickly soaked his gray robe, made of an unidentified material and tattered after the fall. It took him an incalculable amount of time before he finally reached the natural depression formed by the twisted tree roots. Leaning his back against the cold, hard, grooved bark, he gasped violently, his vision blackening.

After a brief rest, he forced himself to observe again. His gaze fell on the thick moss around him, emitting a soft fluorescent glow and refreshing moisture. A vague fragment of memory flashed through his mind—some wilderness survival knowledge? Moss... seemed to have a cooling and hemostatic effect? ​​He reached out with difficulty and carefully gathered a handful of moist moss. The cool touch invigorated him. He gently pressed the moss against the scrapes on his arm and cheek, and the cooling sensation indeed soothed the burning pain. He then tore off a relatively clean strip of lining cloth and used the moss to wrap around his swollen ankle to stabilize it.

After all this, he had nearly exhausted all his strength and collapsed among the tree roots. The pain remained, but the initial panic and helplessness had receded slightly. He raised his head and once again gazed through the distant, shattered gaps in the treetops at the heartbreakingly pure, otherworldly sky dotted with eternal stars.

The ancient forests of Beleriand swallowed him, silent and vast. A fallen star, a scarred soul from another world, after the initial shock and agony, ignited a faint spark of survival. The path ahead was unknown and full of dangers, but at least, in this strange and magnificent forest, he found a respite before the next wave of pain.