Warmth surrounded him, cradling his fragile form.
He didn't understand.
Moments ago-was it moments?-there had been nothing.
No light. No sound. No feeling.
Just an endless, empty space.
Now, sensation flooded in all at once.
Heat. Weight. Pressure.
He gasped, but his breath came wrong-
It was small, weak, and shallow.
His chest barely expanded.
Panic stirred in his gut.
Something was wrong,
His body felt... off.
Too soft. Too light. Too...
Helpless.
Why couldn't he move properly?
Why were his limbs so short, his hands, so tiny?
Confusion surged. Something wasn't right.
Then it hit him.
He hadn't just been reborn.
He was a baby.
The realization froze him.
His mind-still his own, still sharp-raced to process it.
But his body wouldn't obey.
He was trapped in an infant's frame, barely able to lift a finger, let alone speak.
Muffled voices murmured nearby, their words unintelligible yet oddly familiar-
like sounds heard underwater.
The soft rustle of fabric. The faint clatter of objects.
Every sound struck his ears like thunder, each clearer than the last.
His senses-dulled for what felt like eternity-now blared to life.
A gentle hand supported his back.
A scent drifted into his nose-milk and lavender, with a faint trace of damp earth and firewood.
It smelled like the tail end of winter-like the world waiting to wake.
Comforting, yet unplaceable.
The aroma stirred something deep inside of him.
A memory? A longing? He couldn't tell.
Slowly, cautiously, he forced his eyes open.
Blinding light poured in.
He squinted, the world reduced to shifting blobs and streaks of color.
Shapes emerged.
A young girl in a maid's uniform cradled him gently.
Her brown hair, streaked with grey and white, framed a youthful face filled with awe and concern.
Behind her, a modest wooden house came into focus-
brown walls, misted windows, and a simple bed tucked into the corner.
On that bed lay a beautiful woman.
Her golden hair spilled across the pillow. Her face was pale and her breath was ragged.
Delicate golden wings rested limply at her sides.
Though clearly exhausted, she looked at him with a gaze so full of warmth it made his chest ache.
Why did this feel... familiar?
His thoughts scattered. He couldn't hold on to any one of them.
The brightness. The voices. The pain-
Pain.
It exploded across his back-a sharp, unnatural snap,
as if something vital had been torn away.
His body twisted.
A scream ripped from his tiny throat-shrill and helpless.
The maid's arms trembled but adjusted quickly, drawing him closer to her chest.
Then-
A voice.
Soft and gentle, like a breeze through tall grass.
"…sleep… soft star… sway… 'way…"—
A lullaby.
The tune was unfamiliar its words faint and fractured, like murmurs lost in a quiet night.
But it wrapped around him like a blanket, each note smoothing the chaos inside.
The pain dulled. His sobs faded.
Wrapped in warmth, comforted by the melody, his eyelids drooped.
But just before sleep claimed him, a thought surfaced-
faint, but firm.
A whisper in the dark:
---
He didn't know the reason why he was reborn.
Not yet.
No divine voice spoke, no grand truth revealed itself in the light.
Only silence.
Only breath.
But something inside him stirred-
not memory, not knowledge,
just a quiet pull.
A feeling.
That this life,
whatever it became,
was not meant to be wasted.
Not again.
And so, without answers, without certainty,
he held that feeling close-
like a thread in the dark.
And let sleep take him.