Begin with Ash's final moments in modern world: struggling with science/finance studies, scholarship from Lyra's company, recent breakup (girlfriend called him unambitious), his vow to find a smarter/more capable partner. Death scene (hit by drunk driver).
Transition to awakening in Aldon palace as the lazy 3rd Prince. Disorientation, merging memories of prince's idle life (no responsibilities, ignored by family). First hints of the System activating faintly.
The hospital room was dimly lit, fluorescent lights above the beds flickering with a worn rhythm. A lone figure, Ash, lay supine, his frail body riddled with injuries. His eyes drifted lazily, still heavy with the burden of sleep. His thoughts were a jumbled mix of exhaustion and morass, only clarity found in fragmented memories.
Three years of forced assimilation, a battle-scarred underdog trying to keep pace with the insatiable appetite of modern society, weighing down Ash's very soul. He had proven his resolve when, despite his struggles, he secured a limited scholarship from Lyra's esteemed company, Aldon Industries. Yet, he couldn't shake off the lingering feeling that an elusive fire within him had long ago extinguished.
That night, the reality of his confinement began to sink in, and so did his promise to Lyra to not only survive but succeed in this new world. A part of him felt inadequate, overshadowed by the greatness of his peers. It was then that Ash made a vow to himself, no matter how hopeless, to find someone who not only understood him but perhaps even complemented him.
As his mind struggled to keep pace with life, death loomed ever more. The steady heartbeat of the life support machine could be heard, but the irony was not lost on Ash – he had barely lived. The realization sparked a desperate cry, but only darkness met his pleading.
The crunch of an unknown engine was soon followed by a sickening jolt, and Ash was sucked from the world. The whiteness of death descended, whispering defeat.
His last thought was of an unrequited love and
As Ash's lifeless form crumpled on the cold, stone floor, the machine's incessant beep ceased, and the stillness was oppressive. Days turned to weeks, and finally, the news spread: Ash, once a college dropout, had become the world's next victim of reckless driving.
The cycle of life continued on, oblivious to the dead figure entombed within its sterile confines. The white, formality-clad stranger who arrived at the hospital arrived unannounced, bearing an official scroll sealed with the royal crest. A smile seemed to hint at the weight of their words, for which Ash had already paid.
With a gentle touch, he kissed Ash's cheeks, an outward display of the solemnity that followed his arrival. This lifeless form lay on the threshold, not in the distant past, but to his reality.
"Welcome home, Prince," he whispered. "Your journey has begun."
Ash's waking thoughts, disoriented by a haze of indistinct memories, were beginning to clear. The previous existence, cloaked in stillness, coalesced into visions of a life once lived. He recalled the young prince, 25, inheriting his place as 3rd Prince of the Realm of Aldon. His days, sprinkled with careless indulgence, were those of the carefree and lazy. There was no responsibility, only comfort, enveloping him in the shadows of his family's long-lying legacy.
His memory began to dissolve into the miasma of a life he could not quite remember. The everyday monotonousness and thoughtlessness now glared at him in stark contrast to the confusing sequence of Ash's recent life, where duty, sacrifice, and suffering had forged an unyielding resolve in him. Lyra's whispered words, echoed in his heart, still resonated, but the chaos of that existence left a hollow sense, an elusive, desperate quest for meaning.
This was not a person he recognized. Why was he lying on a pallet, with his limbs bound by sheets of white linen? Who were these people, speaking to him in hushed tones? There was no echo of his childhood, only the shadows of an otherworldly existence.
A sense of dawning realization chilled his bones. The gulf between his former self and this present self widened, and with it, a yearning to break free. Unshackling the reality that was imposed upon him, he sensed that, in this place, there existed an undercurrent – a current that pulsed through the unseen networks of the palace.
Unsettled and seeking solace, he sought to bridge the gap between these disparate fragments of his life. He willed himself to focus. His heart now stirred, stirred by the awareness that this world was different, but what different?
His eyes met those of a servant, kneeling beside him, a somber look etched on his face.
"Your Majesty, please. You need to rest," the man said, his voice low, filled with a mix of compassion and concern.
Ash's eyes, once disoriented, suddenly came into focus. The serene atmosphere of the palace room was the only thing remaining from his disoriented state.
"My eyes," he stammered, voice barely above a whisper, "I can see."
A smile creased the servant's face. His lips spread wide in relief and a hint of wariness. He folded his hands, palms together in supplication.
"Yes, my lord. You can see."
A chill ran down Ash's spine. Something had changed within him, but what was it, only the passage of time could explain. Though pain had taken his senses to great depths of anguish and despair, it was no match for what now gathered in his sight.
In the corner of his vision, like a sketch about to take shape, a fine line of blue light pulsed. It was as if his heartbeat was setting him free. It sent a shiver down his spine, followed by an unsettling sense of continuity and anticipation.
Faintly, as if connected to a deeper reality, the pulse resonated deep within his chest, synchronizing with his breath. A visible, almost imperceptible glow now swirled in his peripheral vision. It was coming into definition, growing stronger and its edges sharpening into an ethereal form.
The machine in the corner still beeped softly, reminding Ash that he was in a hospital, that he was indeed alive. The thought was a bittersweet reminder of a life he barely knew. He blinked, and his vision blurred again. But this time, the blue light became clear.
With a strange, unshakable certainty, he knew his journey had begun.
The air surrounding him felt different, charged with an anticipation he could feel, smell, almost sense.
Suddenly, a door slammed open behind the servant. The servant's voice, now loud and urgent, cut through the gentle beeping.
"A chamberlain approached with a message for Your Majesty," the servant announced, bowing his head.
A solemn voice broke into the tranquility, echoing through the room.
"He brings news from the king."
Ash's heart quickened, sensing foreboding. Who was it that now addressed him? Another face, this time older and more aged, than the servant.
"I am glad to be alive," he said firmly, now leaning on the headboard to counterbalance the slight weakness still lingering from his previous ordeal.
A moment of anticipation passed.
"I shall soon, my lord," the chamberlain replied. "A journey awaits."
Ash leaned back, rest of his strength exhausted. His mind swirled with questions, memories and thoughts, fragmented. The images coalesced into a single moment.
A face smiled before him. That of the girl, Lyra.
"You will marry the Princess Lyra of Domefed," he declared firmly.
The sudden clarity shattered the tranquility. Marriage. What did that say about him? The idea clung to him, disquieting. Ash let out a soft, hollow laugh.
"Domestic life?" he mused, a derisive smile twisting his lips.
Yet, the full extent of the gravity of these words, borne by his resolve to help him remember his purpose, slipped into the shadows. Yet, he remembered his words, where had he given them? They seemed to belong to someone else, someone left far behind.
This was merely an opening. Much lay ahead. The unknown, uncertain reality of his future loomed large. With these words echoing in his mind, Ash slipped into a peaceful slumber, where mystery and anticipation waited in the shadows, ready to claim him.