You know what the worst part of that situation is? I had no memory of it. Nothing. A completely blank slate. I was just… someone new. I spent thirteen years not knowing a thing about my previous life. After my "reincarnation," I was just a regular kid—well, a regular supernatural kid who could do magic. That was my new normal. I could create ice from nothing, shapeshift into different forms, and sometimes I'd wake up missing an appendage. Aside from that, life up until I turned twelve was fairly boring.
My mother—bless her—wanted me to enjoy my childhood. She didn't let anyone force me into "training," which was basically torture with a fancy name. But that all changed when I turned twelve. That's when the real work started—and holy hell, it was brutal. My mother didn't want me dying young because some monster decided to tear me apart, so she brought in the best trainers. Magic, hand-to-hand combat, sword fighting, spear work—I learned it all. And you know what? I loved it. Every damn second of it. Training made me feel powerful, and I was all in.
That went on until my thirteenth birthday—April 12th. We were traveling to some stupid event we were expected to attend the next day, and while we were on the road—if you could even call those ruts "roads"—we were ambushed.
We were minding our own business, sitting in the carriage, when out of nowhere our driver got decapitated. You might be wondering: why did we have an escort? And who the hell is my mother?
Her name is Carmilla. She's basically second-in-command of the Spring Court and a longtime friend of Queen Alluria herself. So, yeah—she's powerful. Which means I'm well-protected by default.
Anyway, back to the ambush. After our driver lost his head, I heard shouting and saw my mother's expression go from calm to murderous. She leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Stay here while I deal with the bugs." Bugs. Yeah. That's how she referred to a group of trained assassins. Then she stepped out of the carriage and started slaughtering anyone dumb enough to attack us.
Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately—a stray fire spell hit the carriage and exploded. All I felt was searing heat and pain. The last thing I saw before blacking out was the earth splitting open and swallowing a group of attackers. And the rest? Let's just say Dracula would've been proud. At least thirty enemies impaled on spikes that just spawned from the earth—some from groin to mouth, others through their chests. My mother wiped out sixty people in fifteen minutes. No joke. She's a goddamn badass.
I blacked out after that, didn't wake up for two months. During that time, I relived my entire past life—every second of it. Including the plane crash. Including the feeling of burning alive. Turns out I didn't die instantly. I survived the crash and lived for another three minutes, fully conscious, feeling everything. Absolutely horrifying.
When I finally woke up—with all my old memories—I was a wreck. I had just relived a life I didn't even know I'd lost. And I had no idea if my family was okay. My daughters were only six and three when I died. I spiraled. Couldn't stop asking myself if they were safe, if I'd left them enough to be comfortable, if they even remembered me. It broke me.
My mother was by my side the whole time, trying to understand what had happened. But how do you explain that? How do you tell your new mother that her thirteen-year-old son has 57 years of life experience?
Well, Carmilla being who she is, didn't give me the choice. She made me tell her everything.
I've never seen her look like that—just crushed. I think she imagined herself in that position, and it wrecked her. But then she said something that stunned me.
"Xander," she said, "I won't pretend to understand what you're going through. I'm sure this is traumatic. But this… might be a good thing."
I was furious. White-hot furious. But then she continued:
"If we're lucky, the world you came from is connected to the fae realm. If that's true, we may be able to find your other family."
That stopped me cold. When I looked up at her I saw hope in her eyes and I've never been more grateful to anyone in either of my lives.
She sat me down and had me tell her everything—names, dates, places. Every last detail. Then she looked me straight in the eye and said something I'll never forget:
"I'll send the Spring Court's scouts to search. If your family exists in the human world, we'll find them. And if they're still there, we'll reunite you. They'll know you love them. And if they want, they can come here and live with us. I mean, I'd like to meet my granddaughters."
That was it. That was the moment I knew I would do anything for this woman.
She followed through. Sent fae scouts to the mortal world. And guess what? It was my world. They found my family. They were alive. Safe.
My wife—Rose—never remarried. Fourteen years later, she's 53 now. Cleo is 19. Ava is 17. They're all doing well.
And I'm going to meet them no matter what.