Noah
There's something strange about looking at the world through the eyes of a child.
Everything is brighter.
Softer.
Larger.
Even now, months after I was reborn, I still felt like I was stuck between two worlds, one of clarity and one of haze. I was Noah Reizei now, not Jeremiah Arnold. And while the name was still unfamiliar on my tongue, if I could even speak properly,.. I was slowly learning to accept this new identity, one small discovery at a time.
The ceiling beams above my crib fascinated me. They were etched with gentle carvings, dragons curling through clouds, stars nestled between moons, and symbols I didn't recognize. Every day I stared at them, trying to memorize their patterns, wondering if they held meaning, if they were magical runes or just beautiful artwork.
When I wasn't busy trying to coordinate my limbs, I listened. That was my new strength, listening. My parents spoke often, sometimes to each other, sometimes to me. Their voices were warm and filled with tenderness. Jonathan's deep and calm, Aria's like a melody drifting on the wind. I learned the rhythm of their speech, picking up words, syllables, tones.
Language was returning to me, piece by piece. Not my old one,... this was different. Softer, more musical. But I was determined. If this was the world I'd been given a second chance in, then I'd absorb every piece of it.
Magic exists here. I knew it. I could feel it hum beneath the walls, sense it in the way the wind whispered against the windows. I'd once dreamed of magic as a child in my past life. Now… now I suspected I was living in it.
Today, something changed.
A bird landed on the windowsill near my crib. Its feathers shimmered with faint silver hues. It cocked its head, stared at me, and then let out a warbling, lilting tune unlike any birdcall I'd ever heard. I reached out, a clumsy gesture with tiny fingers. The bird didn't fly away. It simply watched me.
And then… it disappeared. Not flew.
vanished. Like mist.
I blinked.
Magic.
I gurgled, an embarrassing sound, shamefuleven. but it was all I could manage... and kicked my legs excitedly. I needed to understand this world. I would understand it.
Every face, every sound, every flicker of candlelight that danced differently than it should, i drank it all in. My body might have been small, weak… but my mind burned with a hunger that hadn't dulled since my last life.
I would learn.
I would grow.
And this time, I would be ready for whatever came next.
I wouldn't lose anyone.
Aria
There's something different about Noah.
I've always known it. From the first moment I held him in my arms,... squalling and flailing with that fierce little cry... I felt the depth of him. Like he carried an old soul.
Sometimes I find him staring at things for hours. The rafters. The moonlight. My hands as I cast simple spells to light the room. He watches with a focus far beyond his age.
Jonathan says I'm imagining it, that I'm being a dreamy mother again.
But he doesn't see the way Noah studies us.
He doesn't notice how he listens when we speak to each other. Not just a baby's idle awareness, but true intent. Like he's deciphering meaning.
Like he's learning.
This morning, I caught him reaching for the floating rune-light I summoned to lull him back to sleep. His fingers missed it by inches, but he didn't fuss. He simply watched it float back up, eyes filled with… wonder.
And it breaks me, sometimes. The way he looks at me.
So knowing.
I sit with him most days, brushing back his soft dark curls and singing lullabies from my old coven. He smiles when I sing. Not the random twitching of an infant's lips, but real smiles. Like he understands the meaning beneath the melody.
He has my eyes... the same pure white fire, but sometimes, I think they shine with something more ancient.
Today, I held him by the window. He reached up toward the sky. A soft coo escaped him when the clouds parted and sunlight spilled across the garden.
"I wonder what you see in that mind of yours, my little moonbeam," I whispered.
He turned his head toward me. Our eyes met.
And for a second, I forgot to breathe.
There was sorrow in his gaze. A sorrow that didn't belong in a baby.
It was reached into my soul.
But then it was gone. Replaced by a gurgling laugh as he pulled on a lock of my hair and shoved it in his mouth.
I laughed with him.
Noah is curious, yes. Bright and strange. But he is also joy.
He's teaching me to see the world again, to marvel at small things.
The way dust dances in the light.
The rhythm of rain against the glass.
The way his tiny hand curls around my finger like it's the only anchor he needs.
There's a bond forming between us, unspoken but powerful. He may never remember these days, but I will. Every moment. Every heartbeat.
I feel it in my soul... he was meant for something great. Something far beyond what Jonathan or I could ever imagine.
And whatever path he walks, whatever storms await him in this magical, dangerous world...
He won't walk them alone.
Not while I still breathe.
I press a kiss to his forehead and whisper the same words I've whispered every night since his birth:
"You are loved, my son. Beyond the stars, beyond the veil, beyond time itself."
And as his eyes slowly close and his breathing deepens, I hold him close to my heart and make a silent vow:
Whatever secrets you carry, whatever destiny you chase… I will be your light.
Even if I must walk through darkness to protect you.
End of Chapter.