The biting cold seeped into my bones, each weakened breath offering a painful reminder of life ebbing away. Alone on the bleak, wintry streets, my threadbare rags provided little protection from the cold. My faith— once a flickering light in the darkness — had long since abandoned me.

  The snowflakes danced right above me, indifferent to the situation. It kept me thinking if anyone, even the sky, had taken notice of my crumbling body.

  The inevitability of my death settled in like the cold itself— inescapable, relentless.

  My body felt heavier by the minute and it’s becoming difficult to breathe. Ah, out of all times— why did the fond memories of my mother resurface?

  A warming voice that soothed my troubled mind, even now.

  “Don’t forget to keep a smile, okay?”

  Did… I ever smile to begin with?

  The sense of cold faded into silence, this was the end.

  Death wasn’t quiet. Oh no, it had other plans for me, and the dark churned, as if enraged.

  My mind clawed its way out of a void— like surfacing from deep water in the middle of a storm. Everything was murky and distorted— and I couldn’t make out the muffled din that assailed my ears.

  Gradually, light began to fill my vision, and I narrowed my eyes in discomfort.

  The foggy vision became more vibrant, and the sound suddenly became comprehensible, with the words that rang out, “Congratulations Sir and Madam Astrea, he’s a healthy boy.”

  Wait.

  That… didn’t sound quite right.

  Healthy boy?

  I attempted to speak in frantic shock, or maybe it was just my imagination that I did, but only a pathetic gurgle escaped my lips.

  While the shock settled in, the only thought that came to mind was, Am I a baby? Really? After all that… I get to live a second chance? Feels like life’s late apology came with a punchline.

  …Ugh, that sounded corny even in my own head.

  A little bit of a discomfort if I’m being completely honest, but there’s a first for everything.

  After my vision adjusted and the scenery came into focus, there was something strange that oddly became very clear. The people around me spoke a language that I shouldn’t have known, yet understood, or maybe one eerily similar to my now ‘old world.’

  The colors sharpened and the figures around me became clearer. I could make out appears to be a doctor hovering over me like a giant.

  There was a sense of urgency beneath every action she took— like a mother bear cradling her cubs. Her movements and pace were methodical as she tended me and examined me, it was oddly comforting.

  It reminded me of my mother— my previous mother, someone who nurtured me and was diligent in making sure that everything was tidied and cleaned.

  Ahem, not a mamma’s boy.

  Her raven hair was pulled and wrapped up into a tight bun, sharp and clean like the rest of her. This was the type of woman who looked as if she had everything under control. Her eyes were piercing blue, sharp and looked as if all the secrets in the world were kept there. She was the very first person my bleary eyes adjusted to, which made it somehow feel as if everything was less chaotic.

  Taking a moment to realize she wasn’t a typical doctor. It piqued my curiosity, but what really caught my attention was the dimly lit room.

  There were just a few candles that flickered nearby feeling the warmth, casting faint shadows, and weak light dangling overhead.

  The doctor wasted no time placing me into the hands of another person.

  Looking up slightly, I could see a woman. It would be reasonable to say it is my mother who gave birth moments ago. A few seconds were needed to refocus my eyes on the pale-looking figure gently holding me.

  She was irresistibly beautiful with her snow-white skin and her hair was a dark brown that fell in waves around her shoulders. The eyes were a deep hazel color that brought any anguished look to a smile.

  Her nose was small and pert, and lips slightly thick with a slight crooked impression— soft— yet dashing with pink lipsticks. She had these long eyelashes, and her expression was one of gentle love.

  I felt an overwhelming urge to cling to her.

  Beside her was a man of similar age, but it was obvious that this person had to be my father. He certainly looked the part— charming demeanor, foolish grin, and eyes beginning to glisten with tears.

  I wondered if it was cries of joy or if I came out wrong.

  His gaze became softer and said, “Hi Ash, I’m your father.”

  That’s just great… did he expect some conversation to occur here?

  The room fell silent as the doctor and my mother exchanged looks. She shot him a tired glare, “honey, he was just born.”

  Father’s face flushed laughing nervously. “Of course,” he said scratching the backside of his head. “I’m just so excited to meet him.”

  He reached down and gently stroked my cheek.

  “You’re a beautiful boy. I’m so proud of you.”

  I smiled at him. Something warm stirred in my chest— unknown, fragile, afraid. I… couldn’t grasp this kind of feeling of safety and warmth, but I’d like to think this is a feeling that will last.

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  I started to enjoy this seamless, yet playful exchange, and couldn’t help but understand why she married a man like him.

  That flamboyant figure, clean shave, a chiseled jawline, and an arrogant air that always seemed to say he knew what was best. From the ashy brown hair that was kept tightly trimmed and his piercing brown eyes that gave off a strong presence.

  It felt reasonable to say that this man, my father, would do absolutely everything to keep his family safe.

  Their smiles faded as they slowly turned to look at me, the two stared at me intently, their faces etched with worry.

  My mother peeled away her gaze and looked at the doctor, who was still standing by the bedside. “This is my first time, but isn’t he supposed to… you know?” She stared with concern, as if something was wrong.

  The doctor gave me a soft look— almost as if not surprised by my silence. She spoke in a soft, reassuring voice. “Well, the birth was extremely difficult, and there are cases where the infant does not cry.”

  She firmly placed her hand onto my mother’s shoulder.

  “Rest assured, your son is lively and in good spirits. Please continue to rest, Mrs. Astrea, and do notify me if anything strange does occur with Ashur.”

  What felt like eternity, was only the passing of one month after my bizarre experience onto this new world. The unfortunate dilemma was that as a toddler, I had no motor control over my limbs, except the occasional twitching of my fingers let alone anything useful.

  My stubbornness only grew as I yearned to learn more about this world— about how life fairs in society— and to make up for all the things I never had before.

  It is a little bit weird that I don’t have a problem being breastfed? Most people may never get to relive infancy being fully aware, so yes, it is strange, but I can count my blessings.

  Just… hope it doesn’t awaken something… weird…yep.

  It took some time to realize that the world I was reincarnated in wasn’t the same world that I used to know.

  Just the other day father dropped me, which I hoped was an accident— and managed to give me a slight bruising on the top of my head.

  Mother came over and did something unspeakable. It wasn’t a band-aid, it wasn’t a kiss, and it wasn’t anything that was considered normal. Instead, she held her fingertips above my head and, lo and behold, the pain was suddenly gone.

  It would be nice to know where the hell I am.

  Priscilla Astrea— is my mother’s name that I figured out after father was drunk one night and blabbing about how strong and independent his wife was.

  Mother laughed and muttered, “Andrion.”

  That would be my father’s name. A man of righteous belief, or so he claims to be— he certainly lives up to that with his prestigious demeanor and deep love for his growing family.

  Several months have passed since then. I’m now scratching five months into this world, give or take really.

  It has come to my attention that this world uses a system called ‘magic.’

  While it is insane to think a world like that exists, here I am living in one. It explains the bizarre situation where my injury suddenly healed. It is a far cry from ordinary but maybe it won’t be so bad.

  Mother would often take me to town away from our small little home called Lullen. I never had a child of my own, but it was interesting that she’d place me at the front of her chest wrapped in a cradle-strap, or something of the sorts for me to get front row seats of the town.

  We walked along a dirt trail to the town and could tell it was in its early stages of development. As it stands— it was populated with nothing but small tents, a few small stalls for possible merchant storage— and small fences for holding animals.

  Surprisingly, the animals resembled that of my old world, which was a good feeling, at least until something unexpected comes along.

  It was nothing to write home about, but it was peaceful, aside from every merchant or potential buyer carrying a weapon.

  Seriously, where are the laws in this country?

  Who would stop a man from mugging mother and me with their pocketknives and short swords.

  Scary thoughts don’t help a growing baby.

  Mother kept talking to me, probably to help me adapt to the language and structure of this world. She sure has some high expectations for her dry-eyed baby.

  As we passed the market area, a peculiar tent stood out from the rest where one would have mistaken it for being abandoned or unoccupied.

  I could tell someone was there, but why all the way back here away from the rest of the crowd?

  The tent blended in with the dry rocks and mushy green bushes. Its hue of casual green-orange certainly kept up with the summer vibe. It looked more like a tent for stargazing than anything else.

  Regardless, mother continued walking toward the tent, until a small figure peeked out from inside the tent— and with a small gesture, waved mother and I to come forward.

  Nothing specific stood out from the old man. Raggedy trousers, a loose shirt, and a tunic belt to fasten his waist seemed pretty normal for a Lullen resident— or better yet, a merchant.

  However, upon glancing downwards at his unique offerings, many things stood out.

  They all felt almost magical. There were trinkets, stones, pendants, and even ordinary shapes that all glowed faintly with hues I couldn’t place. Everything felt enchanted or maybe infused… with mana?

  My eyes met his.

  With a wary glance toward my mother, he asked her to test my… magic?

  From the small stories mom shared of nightmares to keep children awake, to heroic adventures, I never heard of testing someone’s affinity with magic. Did I even have magic?

  Despite not getting the chance to read my mother’s collection of books, I was eagerly curious to see if I was something special.

  The merchant gave a wry smile, almost as if mother approved of the test and took out something beneath his desk.

  A dark orb…?

  “Place your hand on the orb boy,” he said softly— almost teasingly.

  Mother held out my tiny hand and placed it on the ball.

  Seconds dragged into minutes— and undoubtfully it felt as if my time was being wasted. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that I planned to throw a fit, until something unexpected occurred.

  The voided orb began to shimmer, it flared, erupting a fiery white light. It grew brighter and brighter, swallowing everything.

  There was no time to comprehend or register what was going on before the light overtook me— and my body slumped into a deep sleep.

  Damn it…

  I woke to the hum of mother caressing me in her bosom. The sun was beginning to set, and time had passed since the incident with the merchant.

  What happened exactly?

  Mother’s eyes, a turbulent sea of worry, met mine with a furrowed brow. Hoping nothing strange occurred while in town, but her eyes told me otherwise.

  “You’re a very special boy Ash,” said Priscilla, in a meekly voice.

  Her concerned gaze turned into a sweet, gentle, embracing mother who tugged onto me tightly.

  Father marched in after a day of diligent work and had the widest smile on his face.

  Seriously, it was almost scary how exhilarated he looked, but the question that still pondered my mind:

  What did I do exactly?

  Flailing my arms in desperation, I pleaded to know what those two were on about.

  “Ash, the orb measures your mana output, and you shattered it.” Andrion said, plopping down next to mother. “The orb must be old, but if there is an ounce of truth from it, you’re seriously a monster son!”

  Whether or not that was a compliment… well, it was hard to say.

  I couldn’t help but smile seeing mother scold father for calling me a monster.

  Given my lack of knowledge thus far, there was a sense of the unknown about the world’s power structure.

  From the scraps of conversations that I caught, my father was once a remarkable man in the coming of age.

  Father was a respectable Silver Knight, which from what I heard was a solid position and by no means stuff of legend but still deserved respect.

  Mother, on the other hand, was a Bronze Knight, one rank under father, but still had weight to it. Both had worked hard to save money for our home, and that meant more to me than titles.

  I craved information to understand more of how the hierarchy worked.

  As my tiny body aged with passing conversations, stories, and even bedtime tales, I began to piece everything together slowly.

  Magic wasn’t rare— it was a tool of authority. Power and wealth weren’t just admired, they defined where someone stood in society.

  It proved to my little self that this world was no different than my old world, maybe even scarier, but there was nothing that can be done about that now.

  Still…

  My time to shine will surely come!

  When it does… I hope this world is ready for me.