Eru Ilúvatar glimpsed a soul drifting through the currents of time. He saw that it had already known two lifetimes.
In the first, the man had been called Androcles, a warrior of Sparta, standing beside his king at the Hot Gates, shield in hand, spear ready, falling in battle as the sun blazed overhead. In the second, he had been Vitus, a masterful smith in Italy, called upon to forge a great bronze bombard for the siege of Constantinople, only to perish in the heat of the forge through carelessness.
Now he drifted, unclaimed, wandering between the melodies of the world.
Eru's hand reached for him, touching upon his being, and the Music altered. He placed the soul in Hildórien, and shaped a new image for him.
"You shall be called Lisium," Eru spoke, "may your knowledge return to you in the passage of time."
Thus began the story of Lisium, made anew in a world he knew nothing of.
Lisium stirred and rose from the ground, staring at a land unlike any he had known. Trees reached upward, some dark and broken, others breathing life in green and gold beneath the rising sun. He looked around, bewildered, unsure of what to do.
He turned his gaze to his arms: pale and strong, yet with dark nails. The wind blew through the clearing, and he spoke a single word:
"Lisium."
A shiver passed through him. Something in the land felt wrong; shadows stretched over the trees and soil, darkness creeping slowly. He moved away from it, walking toward the light, seeking safety.
Soon, thirst pressed upon him. He searched for water, anything to ease the dryness in his throat. A faint sound drew his attention. Following it, he came to a small river. Kneeling, he drank deeply, the cool water easing his need.
As he lifted his face from the stream, he saw his reflection. White hair flowed down the back of his head; his eyebrows, too, were as white as snow. His eyes shimmered with a shade of purple, and his mouth was dark, matching the color of his nails. Lisium stared, mesmerized by the unfamiliar image, searching the water for some clue to his being.
Before he could dwell further, a noise behind him made him tense. Instinctively, he stepped back into the trees.
A figure emerged. Human in shape, yet twisted and darkened, with clawed hands and hideous features. It moved further along the path Lisium had intended to take.
Curiosity and wonder overtook fear. Lisium followed, silent and cautious, drawn by the mystery of what lay ahead.
Lisium moved through the shadowed trees, each step careful, silent as best as he can. The wind brushed against his bare skin, and a shiver ran down his spine, but he pressed on, driven by curiosity and wonders of what lay before him.
Through the gaps in the trees, he glimpsed movement ahead. Not one of the dark figures he was currently following, but many of them. They gathered, as if converging on a place meant for others, some place where life already pulsed. Lisium paused, crouching low. His heart thudded, yet he did not flee. He wanted to see, to understand, though fear tugged at the edges of his awareness.
As he drew closer, the dark beings suddenly turned, screaming and scattering like shadows before fire like moths to the flame. Lisium's eyes widened as he saw what lay beyond them: a clearing alive with struggle. Figures clashed with the dark creatures, wielding wooden spears, bows, and arrows carved from plain wood.
And these people… they resembled him. Their pale skin, their flowing hair, though none were as stark as his own marking them as kindred.
He remained hidden, pressed against the rough bark of a tree, watching the scene unfold. One figure drew his attention above all others: a woman, tall as him, with hair like woven moonlight. She moved with determination and authority, bow in hand, directing those around her with gestures both subtle and commanding. Every arrow she loosed found its mark, every command she gave was answered instantly. She was the embodiment of strength and precision.
Lisium's breath caught as he watched, uncertain whether to step forward or remain concealed. His instincts whispered of battle, of skill, of the need to act, but he knew nothing of this world, its rules, or his place within it. And yet, as he watched her lead and fight, a strange recognition stirred within him, telling him to move forward.
The battle continued, wooden weapons clashing against claws and shadowed forms, cries rising and falling across the clearing. Lisium remained in the darkness, torn between caution and the irresistible pull to join, to know and understand who he truly was among these people.
The womans final arrow flew true, striking one of the dark beings through the throat. When her hand reached back again, it found only emptiness. Without hesitation, she cast the bow aside and seized a wooden spear from the ground.
The woman's quiver fell silent she has no more arrows to kill her enemies.
With a cry, she surged forward alone.
She struck without fear, driving the spear into shadowed flesh, tearing it free, and advancing again. The others followed in her wake, emboldened by her courage, yet it was she who stood foremost in front of her allies but piercing, and pushing the darkness back by her will alone.
Something quacked within Lisium's chest.
His heart beat not with fear, but with shame.
To stand naked and hidden while others bled felt wrong, unnaturally wrong. His body trembled, not from the cold wind but the idea that he was just gonna hide away.
His gaze fell upon a fallen branch nearby. Its base was thick, heavy in the hand, hardened by age.
Without thinking further, Lisium seized it.
And then he ran.
Bare feet tore across soil and roots as he burst from the trees. At first, no one noticed him, not the dark beings, nor the people locked in battle. He was but a pale blur behind them.
Until he struck.
With all the strength in his body, Lisium brought the branch down upon the back of the nearest creature. The wood cracked against its spine, and the dark being screamed, a shrill with unnatural sound that rang across the field.
Some dark beings heads turned.
The creatures snarled, twisting toward him, their claws raised. Those nearest broke away and rushed towards him, howling like beasts.
Lisium did not retreat he stood his ground ready for them.
He fought as fiercely as he could, swinging again and again, driven by instinct rather than thought. The branch smashed into limbs, skulls, and shoulders. Pain flared across his arms as claws tore at his skin, yet he pressed forward, roaring wordlessly, refusing to fall.
The people who resembled him saw him then.
Some shouted.
Some pointed.
Confusion rippled through their ranks at the sight of him, a man fighting naked among them yet they fought on nonetheless. And through it all, the woman did not look ahead of her. Her focus remained absolute, her spear piercing enemy after enemy with relentless precision along with her people.
Time blurred.
When at last the final cries faded, the clearing fell silent.
Bodies lay scattered, dark forms bleeding out dark color in blood and wounded men and women breathing heavily among them.
Lisium stood trembling, chest heaving as he struggled for breath. The branch in his hands was shattered, splintered beyond use. It was no weapon now, only broken wood. That it had lasted as long as it had felt nothing short of fortune.
Slow footsteps approached.
The woman came toward him, spear lowered trying to show she meant no harm. Her gaze studied him his wounds, his appearance, his pale skin and white hair. She spoke, her voice firm yet cautious of saying anything that might offend.
Lisium heard the sound but understood nothing.
He could only stare at her, confusion plain upon his face.
Her brows furrowed. Slowly, she pointed to herself.
"Yera."
Then she pointed toward him.
Lisium hesitated, then raised a hand to his own chest.
"Lisium."
The word hung between them, carried softly by the wind.