Chapter 1 – The Height of Regret
The city looked beautiful from above.
Ren Calder stood at the edge of the rooftop, shoes half over the concrete lip, the wind tugging gently at his coat like it was asking him to reconsider. Below him, the city lights blurred into something warm and distant, a soft glow that felt undeserved. Cars moved like slow veins of light. People laughed somewhere far below. Life continued with an almost cruel indifference.
He had always hated heights.
Not because of the fear of falling, but because standing this high made everything feel small—including him. Especially him.
Ren tightened his grip around his phone. The screen was still lit, the battery icon blinking red in quiet warning. He didn't bother turning it off. It didn't matter anymore.
On the screen was a single photograph.
A wedding photo.
She stood at the center, dressed in white, smiling in a way Ren had never seen directed at him. Her hair was done differently—more confident, more radiant. She looked happy. Truly happy.
Beside her stood a man Ren recognized instantly.
Broad shoulders. Sharp grin. The same eyes that used to look down at him in school corridors.
His bully.
The man who had shoved him into lockers.
The man who laughed when others laughed at Ren.
The man who took everything Ren never fought for.
And now—
The man who had taken her.
Ren swallowed, but his throat refused to cooperate. It felt like something had been lodged there for years, growing heavier with every unspoken word, every moment of hesitation.
"I should've said something," he murmured.
The wind swallowed his voice.
He remembered every chance he didn't take. Every time he stood just a little too far away. Every moment he convinced himself that staying silent was kinder, safer. He had believed that loving someone quietly was noble.
He had been wrong.
A laugh echoed from the street below. Ren flinched, his fingers tightening around the phone until his knuckles turned white. The laughter sounded nothing like hers, yet it still pierced him.
She had invited him to the wedding.
That hurt more than not being invited at all.
He had stared at the message for hours before replying with a polite excuse. I'm busy that day. As if that day hadn't already been decided for him the moment he chose to be invisible.
Ren exhaled slowly and looked down.
It would be quick.
He told himself that. A lie, perhaps, but one he clung to anyway. He didn't want drama. He didn't want pain. He just wanted the noise in his head to stop—the endless replay of what ifs and almosts.
His foot shifted forward.
Then—
"Wait!"
The voice came from behind him, sharp with panic.
Ren turned instinctively.
A woman was running toward him from the stairwell door, her heels slipping against the concrete rooftop. She looked frantic, eyes wide, arms outstretched as if reaching for something already lost.
"No—don't—!"
Her foot caught.
Time fractured.
Ren watched, frozen, as her body pitched forward—not toward him, but past him.
Toward the edge
.
Toward the drop.
Her scream tore through the night.
Ren didn't think.
His body moved on instinct alone. He lunged, dropping his phone as his hand shot out. His fingers brushed fabric, then skin—warm, real.
He grabbed her wrist.
The impact nearly tore his shoulder from its socket. Pain exploded up his arm as his feet skidded forward, soles scraping against concrete. The woman dangled over the edge, her free hand clawing uselessly at the air.
"Help—!" she sobbed.
Ren grit his teeth, every muscle in his body screaming in protest. His heart hammered violently, not with fear for himself, but with a sudden, overwhelming clarity.
I don't want this.
Not like this.
He pulled.
Inch by inch, trembling and gasping, Ren dragged her upward. His vision blurred. His lungs burned. The city below seemed to tilt, waiting patiently.
With one final, desperate heave, he hauled her back onto the rooftop.
She collapsed, sobbing, clutching his sleeve.
Ren smiled weakly, relief washing over him like a wave.
Then the concrete beneath his feet gave way.
The momentum he'd used to pull her up betrayed him. His heel slipped over the edge. For a fraction of a second, he thought he could recover—reach for the ledge, grab onto something.
He couldn't.
The world fell away.
The woman screamed his name, though he had never told it to her.
Ren felt weightless.
There was no dramatic montage of his life. No voices calling out to him. Just the rush of wind, the lights spinning into streaks, and an odd, quiet thought drifting through his mind.
At least… someone lives.
The ground rushed up.
Darkness took him whole.
Ren awoke to silence.
Not the peaceful kind—no birds, no wind, no distant hum of existence. Just an absolute void that pressed in from all sides.
He tried to move.
Chains rattled.
Ren's eyes snapped open.
He was standing—no, floating—within a vast black chamber lit by a dim, violet glow. Massive chains stretched from the darkness, binding something—or someone—at the center.
A woman.
She was seated upon an obsidian throne, her posture relaxed despite the chains wrapped around her arms, legs, and neck. Her hair cascaded like liquid shadow, and her eyes glowed faintly, ancient and unreadable.
"So," she said calmly, her voice echoing softly, "you chose to save another."
Ren's mouth opened, but no sound came out.
"Do not strain yourself," the woman continued. "Your body is gone. What remains is… negotiable."
He stared at her, terror and confusion twisting together inside his chest.
"W-Who are you?" Ren managed.
A faint smile touched her lips.
"I am Nyxara," she replied. "Goddess of Darkness. And you, Ren Calder, have died."
The words settled heavily.
Died.
He should have panicked. Screamed. Denied it.
Instead, a strange calm washed over him.
"I see," he said quietly.
Nyxara studied him for a moment, her glowing eyes narrowing with interest.
"You are… accepting," she noted.
Ren looked down at his hands—hands that looked solid, yet felt distant.
"I was ready," he answered. "I just didn't expect to take someone with me."
A pause.
Then, softly, "You didn't."
Nyxara leaned forward slightly. "She lived. Because of you."
Something in Ren's chest tightened painfully.
"Good," he whispered.
The goddess exhaled slowly, as if amused—or perhaps impressed.
"Very well," she said. "Then I will make you an offer."
The chains around her rattled, the sound heavy with implication.
"A second life. Power enough to survive. In exchange, you will free me from this prison. The keys lie within dungeons I shall name."
Ren looked up at her.
"And if I refuse?"
Nyxara's gaze sharpened. "Then you fade. Truly."
Ren didn't hesitate.
"I accept."
For the first time, Nyxara smiled fully.
She raised her hand, darkness spiraling outward as a summoning circle formed beneath Ren's feet.
"Then be reborn, Ren Calder," she intoned.
"And walk a path that will stain history."
The circle flared.
But before it could complete—
Something else moved.
A pressure, alien and vast, forced its way into the spell. Symbols twisted. The darkness warped.
Nyxara's eyes widened.
"No—this is not—!"
Pain unlike anything Ren had ever known tore through him as something foreign sank deep into his core, burning, binding, claiming.
Then—
The world shattered into light.
And Ren Calder was sent screaming into a new life.
End of Chapter 1