I woke up to a ceiling of stars. Not sky—ceiling
. Twisting, swirling constellations pulsed above
like living things.
Cold floor. No cleats. No playbook. Just a thin
jumpsuit and a voice in my head that said Run.
I didn’t argue.
"Who the hell am I?" I muttered,
staggering to m
y feet.
No answer. Just a hum in the walls. Like the who
le place was breathing.
I moved. Fast. Bare feet slapping metal.
Then I heard it.
Thud.
A body hit the ground behind me. I didn’t look b
ack.
“Target identified,” a voice hissed from the sha
dows.
That was all I needed.
I turned a corner and saw a glowing symbol on th
e wall. A triangle with a flame inside. It pulse
d once. Then again.
Like a heartbeat.
BOOM.
A blast hit the wall beside me. Sparks rained do
wn.
I ducked into a room—glass domes, floating books
, and a floating dagger that shot straight at me
.
I caught it midair.
It didn’t cut me.
Instead, it lit up.
"Identity confirmed: Quarterback."
I blinked. “That’s not a real job title.”
Another explosion rocked the hallway.
“Move!” the dagger barked.
I ran, dagger in hand, through corridors that sh
ifted like snakes.
Behind me, the walls started closing in.
"This academy doesn’t like intruders,"
the dagge
r said.
“I’m not an intruder!”
“Then why are you here?”
I had no answer.
I remembered pads. Helmets. Cheers. Stadium ligh
ts.
But nothing else.
Just a name—Mason Kane.
“Mason Kane?” I whispered.
“Former NFL star,” the dagger said. “Disappeared
during the Cold War. Thought dead.”
“Thought wrong.”
“Apparently.”
I burst into a massive chamber. Towering statues
. Floating orbs. A sky made of glass.
And a woman in a black uniform stood waiting.
"You're late," she said.
I caught my breath. "I got lost."
She smiled. “You're not supposed to be here at a
ll.”
"Then why am I?"
She stepped forward. Her eyes glowed. “Because s
omeone brought you back.”
“Why?”
“To finish what you started.”
“What did I start?”
She lifted a hand. A flash of light hit my chest
.
Pain. Memory. Fire.
I saw a field. Not grass—glass. Opponents not in
pads, but armor.
I threw a pass. It turned into lightning midair.
I was a player. In a game. But not Earth's game.
"You were the first athlete to enter the Starlig
ht Arena," she said.
“And?”
“You won. Then vanished.”
"Why?"
“Because you touched the Heart of the Arena.”
“And that’s bad?”
“It makes you a target. And a key.”
“To what?”
“The end of the war.”
A war I didn’t remember.
But someone else did.
And they were coming.
I felt it.
BOOM.
The door exploded.
Smoke. Heat. A figure in a red cloak stepped thr
ough.
"Kane," the figure said. "You
stole what was our
s."
"I don’t even know what I have."
“Then let me take it.”
The figure lunged.
I raised the dagger.
Magic clashed with magic.
The room lit up.
Then the ceiling cracked.
Stars fell.
One landed beside me.
It whispered.
"You were chosen. You were broken. Now, you rise
."
I felt it—power. Ancient. Wild.
Like a snap count in the dark.
I charged.
Lightning in my grip.
This wasn’t football.
But I was still playing to win.
