Sylas fully grasped that moment for the first time. What did it mean to enter a body, a child's body? He understood that everything he had once lived, known, and owned in life was left behind. What did it mean to enter a child's body, to live that old life, and to take on the memories of another soul? Neither the past nor the present, nothing was clear.
In his mind, the child's soul was still here. That child had once fought life and endured everything to achieve success. Sylas was internalizing every part of the soul. Every moment, every pain, every broken dream... And then, suddenly, the child's last words—before leaving his body—appeared in his eyes:
"Take care of my body..."
Sylas paused for a moment when he heard those words. He was like a stranger in the child's body. Every second he felt like a stranger, he became more and more integrated with that child's memories. To feel that child's lost dreams, pain, and longings, to be a part of his soul, how could he do that? Sylas took a deep breath. His mind was stuck in the intersecting paths of the past and the present.
"I will take good care," he said, the voice from inside him echoed with a determined tone. That child had left this body, but somehow he had merged with that child. Having a body meant having not only the body, but also the burdens, pains, and lost dreams of the past.
While feeling the body, Sylas accepted to carry this child's pain with every step. Now, he accepted this child's disappointments, this child's broken heart, this child's life. The soul inside that small body now bore the traces of two different lives. Once upon a time, this child had been crushed by his mother's burden, and now Sylas would carry the same burden.
"I will take good care of your body," Sylas said, his eyes lost in the dark spots of the past and the future. Having this child's memories was now his journey. Now, he did not just have a body, he also lived with all the feelings and memories of that child. And with each step, he would find the pieces that the boy had lost again, and he would continue to live with their pain.
That day, Sylas accepted the boy's last words, and his body would become his soul. There was only one question in his mind: How can a person exist with the pain of others? And how can he have to carry this pain as someone else? But he knew one thing: The soul of that boy, now living in this body, would feel the echoes of another life with each step.
In the union of one soul, two identities, Sylas accepted both a loss and a new beginning.