The first thing you feel is heat. Smoldering earth beneath your palms, the sharp smell of charred bark, silence where there should be wind. You sit up in the center of a blasted ring - ancient trees shattered outward like they fled from you. You don't know your name. You don't know how you got here. But when you curl your fingers, the ground trembles. At the edge of the crater, a weathered man stands very still. He isn't running. He's been waiting for something like you his entire life - and from the look in his eyes, he's not sure if you're salvation or the end of everything.