A Fate of Seas and Stars Opening Scene

One Year Earlier - Jonathan

Sweat covered my entire body. I couldn’t tell if I was awake or asleep as I twisted in my sweat soaked bedsheets. Fire burned my muscles, my organs—everything; the sensation seared my bones and threatened to burst out of me. I wouldn’t survive this; there was no way I would survive this. I briefly thought of my younger siblings; how would they manage without me? And Caroline…I would never get the chance—

My body jerked forward, and I blindly swung my arm out, thankful that my fingertips caught the edge of my trashcan and brought it closer just before bile poured out of me. I wouldn’t survive this. 

The burning in my throat only intensified as I continued to vomit bile and acid. When was the last time I ate anything? When had I even drank water? I couldn’t remember the number of days I’d been stuck in my room with this flu. I’d told my siblings not to worry about me; I didn’t want them getting sick. So it’d been a few days since I last saw them, but now I was desperate for someone to check on me. 

I came in and out of consciousness, collapsed on the edge of my bed. At least the vomiting had distracted me from this dreadful pain, but it seemed the contents of my gut were gone now, and all I could do was burn, and burn, and burn. 

I don’t know how much time had passed since my last coherent thought, but suddenly the pain grew to a head. I wanted to scream, but my body was too weak to even move. The pain had me seeing white behind my closed eyelids, and my lungs squeezed with tension, stopping me from breathing. It felt like all of my muscles were bursting open, like my bones were becoming thicker, and then, as suddenly as it started, it was gone. The pain vanished from my entire body; none of it lingered in any part of me. 

I sank into my disgustingly damp mattress, letting all of my muscles relax. Immediately, I knew something was wrong. I felt — different. My muscles had relaxed, but I felt stronger somehow. Slowly, I opened my eyes, but closed them again. Something was really wrong. 

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I snapped my eyes open again and gasped. I could see everything. Even in this pitch dark room, I could see everything clearly. Even microscopic debris in the air—I could see them floating around. How was that possible? I glanced down at my hands and arms and saw that they were twice the size that they were when I went to bed. Not only did my hands and fingers seem longer, they were also larger, and meatier, like I’d been working with my hands for years. My arms, too. And the veins from the backs of my hands all the way down my arms were protruding out of my skin and throbbing. 

As fear surged through me again, I took a deep breath in through my nose, and immediately fell into a coughing fit. Smells, so many of them, hit me all at once. They overwhelmed my senses. I kept coughing as I struggled to detangle myself from my bedsheets enough to stand up. My shaking hands failed me, and I ended up falling to the floor, my sheets still half wrapped around me. 

What is going on? I thought to myself in panic. My eyes zeroed in on the fabric of my rug, and the fibrous texture of it actually held my attention long enough for me to begin calming down. But everything was so loud — why was it so loud? I could hear several conversations happening at once, and cars driving, and other noises I couldn’t place at the moment. I lived in a quiet suburb; why was there so much commotion happening on a random weeknight? 

I managed to get myself to my feet and walked over to my bedroom window. I stuck my fingers between the plastic panels of my venetian blinds and pushed them apart enough for me to look through them, and my hand started to shake. There was no one outside. No cars. But I could hear them. I listened harder and stumbled back. Different sounds were reaching me now — running water, rustling leaves, breathing, a heartbeat…?

I gripped the sides of my head, trying to cover my ears to no use, and fell to my knees. This had to be a dream. There was no way any of this was real. I must be unconscious; the pain must have made me black out. I curled into a ball on my floor and squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to wake up.

Jonny.

My eyes snapped open. I recognized the voice. It was in my head, but it wasn’t mine. When I didn’t respond, he spoke again. 

Jonny, everything is going to be okay. I need you to take a deep breath and calm down, okay?

I almost laughed. The voice in my head that wasn’t mine was asking me to calm down. My heart started beating even wilder. Then I felt him sigh, and suddenly I wasn’t in my body, I was in his. I could still feel the itchy fibers of my rug against my skin, but around me I saw a forest. Different trees and plant life surrounded me. It was dark, but I could see clearly. I — he — took a deep breath. 

Ground yourself, Jonny. You’re in your room. But I need you to meet me here. Do you think you can do that?

Somehow in my mind I saw images — memories — of his travel to that area. It was northwest from the suburb where we lived, several miles away. I could tell by the memories that he’d ran there. I glanced down at my legs and saw the muscles that now looked like tree trunks. Yeah, I could definitely run a few miles easily. 

Can you get here? Or should I come get you?

I pushed myself up onto my feet. My sheets laid in a damp pile on the floor next to me. I twisted my arms this way and that, watching my new muscles pull and relax, and then looked down at my legs, turning to see the back of them as much as I could. This was still my body; I was in control of it. It was still me. Somehow, I found comfort in that. 

Jonathan?

Don’t worry, I thought back, hoping the person on the other end could hear me. I’m on my way.