The morning after that strange, dreamlike night came slowly, stretching golden fingers of sunlight across the plains.Caelum blinked awake to the chirping of unfamiliar birds. The woven roof above him glowed gently with daylight. He sat up groggily, his tiny body still adjusting to the peculiar weight and balance of a child's frame. A soft breeze slipped through the wooden gaps of the house, carrying with it the scent of damp soil and wildflowers. He rubbed his eyes. No headache. No pain. No IV drips.
Just….
life.
The hut was simple — a single-room home built from dark-barked timber and clay, with a firepit at its center and tools hung neatly on one wall. A stack of firewood rested beside the door. On a small shelf, a wooden bowl of fruits and some strange green tubers sat beside a hollowed-out animal horn. The place had warmth — not just from the fire, but from the lived-in feel. Someone had built this carefully.And it was his now. He quietly stepped outside.The tribe
—though he still didn't know it was a tribe—
lay beyond in a gentle sprawl of scattered wooden huts and tents. Smoke curled up lazily from chimneys. Children laughed in the distance. A few old folk swept their porches with long, handmade brooms. The houses were humble but charming, each surrounded by a mix of garden patches, drying herbs, or low wooden fences with baskets full of firewood. His little feet crunched lightly over the dry grass, and he looked around, eyes wide. A calm breeze rustled through the sparse trees around the village. The tall grass swayed like a golden sea. Bees buzzed softly near wildflowers that bloomed in patches of purple, white, and yellow. Livestock—mostly large, goat-like animals with curled horns and gentle eyes—wandered lazily near the fields, chewing cud.Somewhere nearby, someone chopped wood with rhythmic thunks."Uncle… right, he's a lumberjack…" Caelum mumbled, still wrapping his mind around the identity he'd taken.
A distant mountain range shimmered on the horizon. The sky was a canvas of soft blue, smeared with strands of cloud like pulled wool. A few birds circled high above—huge, elegant things with feathers that glimmered slightly in the sun.He sat on a nearby stone under a tree, just watching. There was no rush. For the first time in forever, no alarms, no doctors, no tubes in his veins.Just… this.---> "So this is it…" he whispered, his voice barely audible."My second chance. Another world.". He glanced down at his reflection in a rainwater basin nearby. The same dark brown eyes looked back at him, but the face was younger, innocent—still slightly pale but undeniably alive.> "Is that… me?" he murmured. "Why this body? What happened to… my other one?"He poked at his cheeks. Soft. Real. Breathing.
There was no memory of how he got here—just the death, the darkness, then the stars… and now this. Still, a calm acceptance began to settle in his heart. It didn't matter how. What mattered was that he was here now. A second chance.---That day, he stayed mostly quiet. Observing. Listening. An older woman—stern but kind - eyed had brought him a bowl of soup made with roots and some shredded meat. She'd called him "child" and warned him not to wander near the eastern fence because wolves sometimes sniffed around at dusk. He nodded politely, still overwhelmed.
Every few minutes, he'd catch himself marveling at a butterfly, a spark of wind, or the feel of grass between his fingers. The people here spoke a dialect he understood enough to follow—though it was accented and full of older words. Still, it was better than the awkward silence he feared he'd face in another world. A few children came by to peek at him curiously. They whispered about his "strange quietness," but he just smiled and nodded. He wasn't ready to talk much yet.---That night, as dusk descended and the stars returned to the sky, he sat outside the hut again. The moon was large—larger than Earth's—and silver like polished stone. Stars glittered across the heavens like scattered grains of salt on black velvet.
From the woods nearby, glowing insects danced in the air, leaving trails of green light. Birds cooed softly from their nests. Somewhere deep in the forest, a wolf howled—but it was distant, like a song from a different world. And all around him, the quiet rhythm of life. A quiet before the coming storm. But for now, Caelum didn't think about that. He simply closed his eyes, letting the night speak its poetry into his heart.....