The stillness of the lake lingered in the clearing, broken only by the soft rustle of the alien trees and the distant sound of water. Elias or was it Eiden?, sat on the damp moss, his breathing slow and deliberate.
His tears had dried, leaving his face taut and weary. For the first time since waking in this unfamiliar world, his mind was no longer consumed by panic. Instead, it churned with a quiet determination, turning over the fractured memories that now lived within him.
The reflection in the water no longer startled him. It was a reminder of his reality, a face that wasn't his, yet was.
The name Eiden Verel felt more natural now, like a word he had always known but forgotten. And with it came the life that name carried.
He closed his eyes and let the memories flow through him.
Eiden Verel, the only son of Markus Verel, a proud father, a skilled craftsman who took joy in creating tools that were both practical and artistic.
His mother, Ella Verel, overprotective but loving, saw Eiden not as the failure the world labeled him, but as a boy with potential yet to bloom.
His little sister, Mira Verel, clung to him with the unshakable trust of a child.
Eiden wasn't like others in their town. In a world where shaping Essence was a rite of passage, he couldn't muster even the faintest spark. The whispers of his peers and the quiet disappointment of his teachers weighed on him, though he never let it show at home. His father called him "a late bloomer," his mother shielded him from scorn, and Mira adored him regardless.
*DING.*
A sharp digital chime cut through the stillness.
He flinched, heart skipping. The sound was jarringly mundane. Modern.
Another *DING.*
With trembling fingers, he reached into the robe's deep inner pocket, half-expecting it to be empty.
But no.
A smartphone. Scuffed screen. Cracked in the corner.
The screen lit up, and a message popped into view.
Mom:
|Eiden, where are you?! You better not be late again. 11:23 PM
|You start Verdant Academy tomorrow, remember? 11:23 PM
|Come home. 11:23 PM
|Now. 11:23 PM
The name hit him like a slap.
Verdant Academy.
His breath hitched.
He stared at the screen, not fully trusting what he was reading.
His mind reeled.
Verdant Academy...
And then it clicked.
"Wait…" he murmured. "That's… that's from the book. That's the school."
He sat bolt upright, heart pounding. "Cries of the Chosen." The novel he has been reading ever since he lost the two most important pillars of his life.
He looked around again, really looked.
The bioluminescent moss. The twin moons. The shimmering trees. The weight of magic in the air.
This is the book.
He looked through his fragmented memories again to make sure he wasn't hallucinating.
Eiden was heading to Verdant Academy tomorrow, the legendary institution where elite mages were trained, to take the entrance exam. The journey was one of hope for his parents and obligation for Eiden. It was the last chance to prove he wasn't a failure, to prove his parents weren't wrong about his. If he could earn entry with a full scholarship, perhaps he could make something of himself. But it would take grit and hard work as he would have to be within the Top 10 of the first year's batch.
Elias opened his eyes, the weight of those memories settling into him like sediment in a pond. He gritted his teeth. He was no stranger to the burden of expectations, the pressure to be more. But Eiden's life wasn't just about potential. It was tethered to his family in a way Elias understood all too well.
However despite all that, a strange, surreal joy bloomed in his chest, sharp and disbelieving. Of all the ways to die, to wake, to begin again…
He was inside the story he loves so much.
Then the joy faltered.
He'd only read a quarter of it.
The blood drained from his face.
"Shit."
He racked his memory. Caelum Ardent. That was the protagonist. Noble, reckless, tragic. He remembered some of the early arcs.
But everything beyond that?
Nothing.
Absolutely nothing.
Elias stood, brushing the dirt from his robes. "Cries Of The Chosen," he muttered, the words bitter on his tongue.
I don't have to go. The thought was tempting. He could run, escape into the wilderness, and live a quiet, anonymous life. No trials, no expectations, no pain. He could avoid the suffering written into this world.
But then he thought of Hana and Emi. Their faces blurred as memories of Eiden's family overlapped, but the weight of failure was the same. He had run before, buried himself in work, ignored the calls of those who needed him. And it had cost him everything.
Elias clenched his fists, the coarse fabric of his robes rough against his palms. "Not this time," he said, his voice steady. "This time, I'll get strong enough to protect them. I'll protect Eiden's family. My family."
Then-
DING DING DING DING DING.
More messages exploded on his phone screen.
|Mom:
|Eiden? Answer me. 11:28 PM
|Dinner's ready. 11:28 PM
|I'm giving you five minutes. 11:28 PM
|Five. 11:28 PM
|Your father's already sharpening his sword. 11:28 PM
The tone made him blink. It wasn't cruel. It was… familiar. Sharp but warm in a way that hit too close to the heart. A tone he hadn't heard in years.
He exhaled shakily, and the brief lightness he'd found evaporated. The weight returned, but softer this time. Not a crushing grief, but a ghost of something sweet. Bitter. Long gone.
He stared at the phone.
This is my life now, he thought. Or someone's life. But it's the only one I've got.
He didn't know who he was supposed to be. Eiden, this strange boy with fractured magic and full of self-hate? Or Elias, the hollow man who once wore suits like armor and built his empire on ashes?
Maybe both.
Maybe neither.
But if he stayed here in the woods forever, he'd never find out.
He stared in the direction the memories whispered home.
Not clear directions, just a pull, like muscle memory for a life he hadn't lived.
The stars above this world were different.
Brighter. Sharper. Too many to count.
The twin moons floated high and full, bathing the path ahead in a silver glow. The wind was soft now, brushing through the trees with a hush that felt almost reverent.
The forest had thinned behind him, giving way to a cobblestone path that wound down into a valley, where a single house stood with light glowing warmly from within.
Elias stood at the crest of the hill and stared.
It was modest, nothing like the vast homes he used to own. A wooden porch wrapped around the front, and a pair of slightly cracked wind chimes tinkled in the breeze, their melody soft and nostalgic. A lantern swayed lazily above the door, casting amber halos into the dark.
His breath caught.
Why was it so hard to move?
He should've been relieved to find a place called home in this bizarre new life, but instead, every step felt heavier than the last. His feet stuck to the path like the guilt he'd carried for years was dragging at his heels.
Nervousness pooled in his chest, clenching tighter with every heartbeat.
What if he said something wrong?
What if they noticed he wasn't really their son?
What if this family was just another thing he would lose?
The porch creaked beneath his bare feet. The door loomed before him, glowing faintly from within.
He raised his hand.
Stopped.
Lowered it.
Raised it again.
Knock.
The sound was so small, it barely felt real.
But the light inside shifted.
Then, *click*, the door opened.
And everything stopped.
A man, Eiden's father Markus, stood in the doorway, backlit by the golden glow of lanternlight. He had a strong build, with kind eyes, brown hair, brown skin and a furrowed brow that spoke of quiet responsibility.
Behind him, a woman peeked out, Eiden's Mother Ella, black hair tied back with clear porcelain skin and bright amber eyes, wearing a cozy wool cardigan. There was flour on her sleeve, and concern in her eyes.
"Eiden?" the woman asked.
Her voice was warm. Familiar in a way it shouldn't be.
Elias's throat tightened.
But before he could speak, a blur of movement shot forward.
A little girl, Eiden's sister Mira, with black hair like the void, amber eyes shining bright like the sun and pale skin, no older than four or five, rushed past them.
She flung the door wide open and ran straight to him.
"Bwudder!"
Her voice rang through the night like a bell, bright, innocent, full of unfiltered joy.
And then she was in his arms.
Small, warm, alive.
She hugged him tightly, as if she had missed him all day.
As if nothing else in the world mattered but him being there.
He froze.
He couldn't breathe.
Not from fear.
But from something older.
Something buried.
Love.
Real. Raw. Uncomplicated.
Something he had long forgotten.
And as her arms wrapped around him, as the warmth of the lantern light fell across her hair, something inside him broke, but not in the way it used to. Not with pain.
But with memory.
The man behind her shifted, suddenly, just for a second, into Elias' own reflection. The hardened businessman. The father he never learned to be.
The woman's face blurred into Hana's.
And the girl in his arms?
Emi.
His daughter.
Her laugh. Her tiny hands. The way she used to run up to him at the door after long work trips.
It came crashing back.
He dropped to his knees.
Not from exhaustion. Not from pain.
From everything.
Tears spilled from his eyes before he could stop them, quiet at first, then choked sobs wracking his chest.
He hugged the girl tighter, forehead pressed to her small shoulder, clinging to her like she was the last real thing in the world.
Because in some twisted way, she was.
"I'm sorry…" he whispered, barely audible. "I'm so sorry…"
He wasn't crying for this family.
Not the people in front of him.
He was crying for the ones who weren't.
For the warm meals never eaten, the bedtime stories never told, the birthdays missed, the hospital bedside never reached in time.
For the wife who had believed in him until her last breath.
For the daughter who had died before she ever really lived.
He cried because this was what he had lost.
The girl looked up, confused but unfazed.
"Bwudder? You okay?"
The man stepped forward. The woman knelt down.
"Hey," she said softly, her hand resting gently on his back. "What happened?"
He couldn't speak.
But they didn't force it.
They didn't question it.
They just… stayed with him.
The man put a steadying hand on his shoulder. The little girl leaned in tighter. The woman quietly said, "Come inside, sweetheart. It's cold out."
He nodded, still trembling.
And together, they led him in.
Not knowing why he was crying.
Not needing to know why.
And for that one moment, surrounded by strangers who loved him even though he wasn't who they thought he was, Eiden let himself believe it could be real.
That maybe, just maybe…
Fate was giving him a chance to make things right.