Darkness. Not the comforting absence of light I remembered from sleep, but a profound, pressing void. It felt… wrong.
My last memory was drifting off in my perfectly ordinary bed, the familiar weight of the duvet, the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds.
This was not that. Then, a sensation. Not sight, not sound, but a pull. A slow, inexorable drift towards something I couldn't perceive. Panic tried to claw its way up, but my mind felt sluggish, wrapped in cotton wool. Where was I? Was this a dream? It didn't feel like any dream I'd ever had. Dreams were chaotic, fleeting. This felt… final.I never believed in the whole "light at the end of the tunnel" cliché. Near-death experiences, spiritual awakenings – they were just the brain's last gasp, firing off random signals.
Interesting phenomena, sure, but nothing more. Yet, here I was, drawn towards a pinprick of light that slowly expanded, swallowing the oppressive darkness.Did I die? The thought surfaced, surprisingly calm. How? No dramatic illness, no accident I could recall. Just… sleep. Was it that simple? An aneurysm? A quiet fading away? The thought lacked the expected terror. Maybe because the concept of 'me' felt distant, fragmented.Fragments… yes, that felt right. Shards of memory floated in the void. A keyboard under my fingers, the smell of rain on hot asphalt, the frustration of a debugging session, the taste of cheap instant coffee. Mundane pieces of a life that felt increasingly like someone else's story.The light grew, becoming not just bright but loud. A cacophony assaulted my senses, a roaring, rushing sound mixed with muffled thumps and something that sounded disturbingly like… screaming? The pull intensified, accelerating me towards the blinding glare.I braced for impact, for oblivion, for whatever came next. Instead, the world exploded in a wash of crimson light and overwhelming sensation. Air – cold, sharp – filled lungs I hadn't realized I possessed. The roaring resolved into distinct sounds: panicked shouts, a deeper voice murmuring reassurances, and a high-pitched, piercing wail that seemed to be coming from… me?I tried to speak, to ask, what the hell is going on? But the only sound that escaped was that same infantile cry. My limbs flailed uselessly, tiny and weak, responding to primal instinct rather than conscious thought.The muffled voices sharpened. "...healthy boy! Congratulations, Lady Elara, Lord Vorian! A strong heir!"Heir? Lord? Lady? Wait. Was I… born? The absurdity crashed into the lingering fragments of my old self. Reincarnation? Seriously? The universe had a twisted sense of humor.My rational mind, the part that used to design software architectures, tried to assert control. Assess the situation. Language: Understandable. Good sign. Environment: Dimly lit, flickering candlelight casting long shadows. Smell of straw and something metallic, coppery. Not a hospital. Definitely not 21st-century Earth.My vision swam, struggling to focus through eyes that felt brand new and utterly inadequate. A face loomed above me – blurry, but undeniably ancient. Long, grey hair tangled in a beard, spectacles thick enough to stop a bullet perched on a crooked nose. He wore rough-spun robes, not medical scrubs. He held me aloft, his grip surprisingly gentle."A fine lad," the old man declared, his voice raspy. "Strong lungs. He'll make a fine Varis."Varis? Not the name I remembered. Kaelen Varis. That felt… right? A new name for a new life?I was passed carefully to another figure. Softness, warmth, and a scent like crushed herbs and sunlight. My blurry vision resolved slightly. A woman. Young, beautiful in a gentle, weary way. Sweat plastered strands of silver hair – silver? – to her temples. Her eyes, a startlingly clear grey, met mine, filled with exhaustion and an overwhelming tenderness that resonated deep within my new, tiny chest. This was… Mother? Lady Elara?"My Kaelen," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. She pulled me close. Instinct took over, and I nuzzled against her warmth, the unfamiliar infant body seeking comfort.Another face appeared beside hers. Male. Sharper features, a strong jawline shadowed with stubble. His hair was the same striking silver, tied back loosely. His eyes, though… they were the colour of storm clouds, but as he looked at me, a flicker of something iridescent, like oil on water, seemed to shimmer within their depths for just a moment before settling back to grey. Lord Vorian? Father?He grinned, a wide, slightly goofy expression that didn't quite match his intense eyes. "Look at him, Elara! He's got your hair, but those eyes… pure Varis!" He reached out a large finger, stroking my cheek. "Hello, Kaelen. I'm your father."I just stared, processing. Silver hair. Lords and Ladies. A room lit by candles. Magic, maybe? The old man – a healer? A midwife? – had mentioned a name, Varis. Was that a family name? A noble house?The fragments of my past life felt like watching a movie. Distant. Unimportant, almost. This was real. This strange, medieval-looking room, these silver-haired people claiming to be my parents. This tiny, helpless body.My old self would have panicked, raged, demanded answers. But that self was fading, replaced by the raw immediacy of infant existence and a strange, detached curiosity. Where was I? The name Astrum Regalia surfaced in my thoughts, unbidden, like a piece of data downloaded into my brain. A realm orbiting a black hole called Astrum's Maw? Continents forged from dead gods? It sounded like the synopsis of some absurdly over-the-top fantasy novel.Yet, the warmth of my mother's arms, the rough texture of my father's tunic against my cheek, the flickering candlelight – it all felt undeniably real. I was Kaelen Varis. And my life, or rather, this new life, had just begun in a world that promised to be far stranger, and perhaps far more dangerous, than the one I'd left behind.