Morning light poured through the tall windows of the Ashborne library, filling the room with a warm, golden haze. Rows of books towered on polished shelves, their spines worn but carefully maintained. Zephyr Ashborne, now a small child with bright dark eyes, wandered between them with unsteady but determined steps. His tiny fingers traced the titles, lingering on words he recognized.
"Father, mother… can I read this one?" he asked, holding up a thick volume bound in deep blue leather. His voice was clear, confident, and fluent now, a sharp contrast to the babbling syllables of his toddler days.
Kael leaned against the doorway, smiling. "That one is old, Zeph… a story about heroes and techniques. But yes, if you want, you may try."
Elara crouched beside him. "Take your time. Don't rush… and remember, not every story is meant to be finished in one day."
Zephyr's small hands opened the book carefully. The letters danced beneath his gaze, but he had already begun to understand them naturally, piecing together words with ease. "Hmm… energy flows… strong heart… mind sharp… yes…" He murmured aloud, following the text, occasionally pointing at illustrations and babbling his interpretations: "Sword go… fast… shine… yes!"
Valerius, watching from his armchair, chuckled. "Reading already? Ah… our little one does not waste time. Soon he will be reading every scroll, every manuscript… but for now, let him enjoy it."
Zephyr walked to a small table by the window, book in hand. He sat cross-legged, eyes scanning, occasionally stopping to repeat sentences aloud, as if the words themselves held some secret meaning he wanted to unlock.
As the afternoon sun dipped lower, Zephyr curled up on a soft rug near the fireplace, another book open on his lap. But that night, as shadows lengthened and the household grew quiet, dreams came to him.
He found himself in a strange, hazy place. Faces flickered—some familiar, some unknown. Voices whispered, unintelligible yet oddly familiar. A dark figure stood before him, calm and commanding. Zephyr tried to speak, but no words formed. The scene shifted, a river of stars flowing around him, a cold wind brushing against his face. Then, just as quickly, it vanished.
He woke suddenly, small hands clutching the blankets, heart pounding. "Strange… dreams…" he murmured, voice barely above a whisper. He frowned, trying to recall, but only fragments remained, like pieces of a puzzle he could not yet assemble.
The next morning, Zephyr carried his new book into the breakfast room. "Mother, father… I had dreams. Faces… voices… moving stars."
Elara glanced at Kael, eyes soft. "Dreams are normal, Zeph. Sometimes they are just imagination, sometimes… something else. You will understand in time."
Kael ruffled Zephyr's hair. "Don't worry, little one. Some dreams are just shadows. Some will return later, clearer, stronger… if they are meant for you."
Zephyr nodded thoughtfully, turning to the book in his hands instead. Words flowed, and pictures sparked his imagination. He read aloud, experimenting with sentences, guessing meanings, asking questions: "Why does the sword move? How does fire spin like that? Can I… try?"
Elara smiled, pouring him a cup of warm milk. "You are curious, always curious. That's fine, Zeph. But remember… curiosity should not burn too bright too fast. Take your time."
Kael laughed softly. "I suspect he will never take advice. And yet… I cannot stop him. He will explore, he will test, he will notice everything."
As days passed, Zephyr spent more time in the library, reading books about techniques, history, and stories of warriors. Sometimes he would pause, staring at the ceiling, recalling the fleeting visions of his dreams. Nothing was clear, just shadows, feelings, and a sense that something was missing.
At night, he would sometimes sit by the window, moonlight brushing his small face. "Why… dreams like… stars?" he whispered. "Where… go?"
Elara, who often checked on him, would sit beside him quietly. "Dreams… sometimes they are a story your mind tells you. Sometimes… something else, something waiting."
Zephyr hugged his knees, staring at the night sky. "Waiting… for me?"
Kael, standing behind, didn't answer. He only smiled faintly, ruffling Zephyr's curls. The child turned back to his book, flipping the pages carefully, learning, imagining, experimenting, while the whispers of past life dreams lingered, shaping curiosity but never fully revealing themselves.
In those quiet hours, Zephyr Ashborne was still just a child—curious, playful, and adventurous. Words, books, shadows, and dreams surrounded him, small sparks in a world that would one day stretch far beyond his small hands, and for now, that was enough.