Capítulo 1: One
As the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, I slowly regained consciousness. My body stiff and splayed across the cobblestone road like a discarded thing. The cold, unforgiving stone beneath me was a harsh reminder that I remained alive and trapped in this world. The powerful waves colliding with the pillars below created a jarring symphony. Each impact was a sharp reminder of the life that pulsed around me, a life that felt impossibly out of reach.
I couldn't recall how long I'd been lying there, unconscious, surrounded by the crisp scent of saltwater and the earthy dampness of sandy seaweed. The air was wild, electric, charged with the promise of distant storms. The faint sweetness of sun-bleached driftwood overwhelmed my senses with each passing breath. It was as if the ocean itself had woven its magic around me, blurring the line between reality and whatever dream had held me captive.
As I stirred, a fog of nothingness pressed down on me, heavy and suffocating. There were no memories, no familiar faces, nothing to anchor me to the world I'd awoken to. My past was a gaping void, an abyss where there should have been the comfort of recollection. I reached for something, anything, but my mind was a blank canvas, the details of my surroundings unfamiliar.
Raw panic surged through me. My body jerked upright in reflex, my hands clutching the harsh, uneven cobblestone beneath me.
Move, I commanded myself through gritted teeth. Move!
I struggled to rise as pain shot through me. A searing agony ripped through my bones and muscles, shattering me from within. My back arched involuntarily, my breath ragged and uneven, forcing its way out of my lungs. My elbows buckled under the strain, and I collapsed down onto the stone, the world spinning in a nauseating blur.
"It's too much," I whimpered, tears blurring my vision as I silently begged for release, for an end to the torment that wracked my body.
This is it, I thought, this is how I die. And then, mercifully, unconsciousness claimed me once more, wrapping its cold, dark arms around me and sweeping me into oblivion.
In the void of that dark slumber, I dreamed of death—a peaceful, indifferent force, neither cruel nor kind, just simply there. The pain, once so overwhelming, was now a distant blur, dissolved like morning dew in the rising sun. I floated in a formless sea of shadows, unmoored, unbound by the constraints of the physical world. There was no sense of time, no direction, just an infinite expanse of emptiness. But then, a small flicker of light appeared in the distance—a firefly in the darkness, sparking my curiosity, pulling me away from the calm embrace of death. The light grew brighter, its radiance piercing the void, until it was all I could see.
But then, death began to take shape—a human shape. I blinked, my eyes opening to the blinding light of the sun, my face pressed against the rough cobblestone. The vision of tattered, black leather boots sharpened into focus. They stood just within my line of sight, worn and weathered, like their owner had walked through a thousand lifetimes in them.
"Death wears leather boots," The words escaped my lips without thought. I looked up at the stranger, squinting as my vision regained focus.
He chuckled, a low, rough sound, and I saw the glint of amusement in his eyes. "I've been called worse, I suppose."
I pushed myself up with trembling arms, the pain now a dull throb. He offered his hand, but I was too dazed to comprehend the gesture. His hand was rugged, calloused, covered in ancient tattoos—black as night, swirling in mystical patterns that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly energy. The markings felt alive, humming with magic, both intriguing and terrifying.
"I just had the most intense dream," I forced myself upright.
He lowered his hand, resting an elbow on his knee, his expression unreadable. "Maybe you're still in it."
I glanced down at myself trying to gather my thoughts, taking in the unfamiliar clothing—a dark grey, form-fitting ensemble that clung to my body like a second skin. It was a warrior's attire, with knee-high laced boots and plated leather armor that covered my shoulders, torso, and forearms. The material was light, allowing for movement, but reinforced at the vital points. Something an assassin might wear. Or a spy. But none of it sparked any recognition. None of it made sense.
I looked at him again, at the stranger who had found me. He was classically beautiful, with a rugged, chaotic edge. The late morning sun highlighted the sharp lines of his jaw, while the shadows clung to the elegant planes of his face. His hair, dark as night, framed his features, just barely brushing his warm hazel eyes. There was a fire in those eyes, a golden flame that danced within the depths, rimmed with rich chocolate brown. Beautiful, but dangerous. The kind of man you're warned about, the kind you should stay away from. And yet, something in his presence was grounding, reassuring, as if I could trust him. Time seemed to freeze around us, the moment stretching out in silent contemplation, like a trance.
The corner of his mouth quirked up into a slight grin. "You look like shit."
And just like that, the trance broke. My brows furrowed. "That makes two of us."
But as soon as I spoke, a small, black-inked rune tattoo appeared on my wrist. I stared at it, wide-eyed, as if it had just crawled out of my skin.
He chuckled, a lazy, sarcastic laugh. "Liar." He nodded toward the tattoo.
"What the fuck?!" I gasped, my breath quickening.
"It's a rune. Don't worry, they're not permanent."
His body was a canvas of ink, tattoos covering his arms, neck, and chest. His tunic was open, revealing lean muscle beneath golden tan skin. He wasn't bulky, but every inch of him was honed and defined, like a weapon.
"So, can I ask why you're lying on the ground, alone, on Sidhe land? What the hell happened to you?"
I blinked, trying to gather my thoughts. "I… I don't know."
His eyes narrowed, a mix of confusion and pity flashing across his face. "Do you know your name?"
I rubbed my temples, struggling to focus, my balance shaky as my hips shifted on the cobblestones. He watched me, his gaze traveling down my body, assessing, calculating.
His eyebrow arched, a wry smile playing at his lips. "Who knew confusion could take such a beautiful form."
Heat pooled in my core as I looked up at him. My stomach coiled, noticing one of the runes on his neck begin to glow. The black ink shifted, turning a soft shade of blue before fading away entirely. He must have caught the curiosity in my eyes because he wiped a hand over the spot, rolling his head as if to shrug off the effect. His gaze returned to me, intense, unwavering. Had he just called me beautiful?
His nostrils flared slightly, and for a moment, his eyes turned wild, almost feral, the golden flames within them burning hotter. But in the next heartbeat, his expression was calm, unreadable once more.
"Are you…" He hesitated, a flicker of something—uncertainty?—crossing his face. He cleared his throat. "Are you hungry?"
I glanced at the now-empty space on his neck, and a spark of recognition flared to life in the depths of my mind, like a memory emerging from a dream.
"ACE! My name is Ace!" The words burst from my lips, and as they did, a gust of wind swept around us, as if the very air itself had acknowledged my declaration.
My waist-length, pearly white hair lifted in the breeze, strands of it brushing against my face. His hand reached out, tucking the loose strands behind my ear with a touch that was surprisingly gentle for someone who looked so dangerous. The rough callouses on his fingers grazed my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.
He met my gaze with a wicked grin and whispered, "Ace of Spades."
For a moment, we just stared at each other. My breath catching as our gazes met, leaving only the thrum of an erratic pulse in my ears.
"Do you play cards?" I asked, trying to decipher his meaning, to figure out what game we were now playing.
"You could say that." His response was coy, vague, as if he was avoiding more tattoos from either appearing or disappearing, though I still didn't fully understand their significance.
He extended both hands toward me. "Let's go, I'm hungry."
I hesitated.
He grinned. "Don't worry I won't bite... unless you ask me to."
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
nikkimarion
nikkimarion This is my first book, I'm super open to feedback! Thank you for reading
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