Chapter 5 - 005 ※ Beware the Desert Heat... and Your Infantile Fate

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the sky. Above me, a vast sea of stars stretched endlessly, twinkling like distant diamonds, but something felt wrong. The wind around me was hot, scorching, and oppressive, not the refreshing, cool breeze I was used to. It felt as though I was suffocating under the weight of it, the air thick and dry, like the breath of some infernal beast. The heat was unbearable, and it seemed to seep into my very bones. I tried to move, but my body felt heavy, sluggish, as if I were submerged in something far more than the intense desert air.

As I lay there, trying to make sense of my situation, memories began to flood back—memories of everything I'd studied about Danika, the world I had now found myself in. According to the lessons I had spent so many years memorizing, there was only one place in all of Danika that could produce this kind of suffocating heat, a place known for its unforgiving, inhospitable environment. The Desert of Tywod. It was a place of endless sand dunes, where water was as scarce as hope, and survival was a luxury few could afford.

I felt my heart drop. Why, of all places, did I have to fall right into this hellhole? This was the last place anyone would want to end up, and yet here I was.

A bitter frustration boiled in my chest as I clenched my fists, but deep down, I already knew the answer. It had to be my damn father. He must have had a hand in manipulating where I fell, a petty act of revenge for my rudeness, for every time I had spoken out of turn or disrespected him. It was just like him, wasn't it? To punish me for the smallest of transgressions, to make me suffer for my own defiance. Typical. Goddamn it.

I couldn't help but curse his name. The thought of him made my chest tighten with a mixture of anger and helplessness. How could someone like him—so childish, so immature—ever be trusted with the responsibility of leadership? How could such a spoiled, self-centered individual ever be my father, let alone the leader of our people?

As I continued to lie there, trying to control the rising wave of anger, I looked down at my hands. They were tiny. Soft. Baby hands. The realization hit me like a slap in the face, a punch to the gut that made everything feel even more surreal. I was no longer the adult I had been—no longer the person I had once been. I was a baby, helpless and small. My heart sank as I remembered again—when I had fallen into Danika, I had fallen as a baby, stripped of all the power and memories of my previous life.

I couldn't even remember what it was like to be an adult, not really. My adult life felt like some distant, half-forgotten dream, like something that belonged to someone else. And now, this infant body—this frail, weak, helpless form—was all I had left. It was all I could hold onto, and right now, the only thing I could think about was the unrelenting, gnawing thirst that burned through my body.

I needed water. The dry, oppressive heat had stolen every last ounce of moisture from my body, leaving me parched and desperate. But there was a problem. I was a baby. I couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything to solve the problem. There was no one in sight to help me. No one to hear my cries or offer me even a drop of water. I was completely alone in the middle of this hellish desert.

The desperation clawed at me. I swore to myself, my teeth grinding in frustration, that when I finally saw my father again—if I ever saw him again—I would make him pay for this. Maybe not right away, but after a few decades, when I had the strength and means to do so. I would make him regret this. I would make him pay for what he had done to me, for sending me into this nightmare. He had no right to treat me this way. The cruelty of it, the sheer childishness of it all—it was infuriating. He was supposed to be my father, the leader of our people, and yet he was no better than a spoiled brat throwing a tantrum every time I stepped out of line.

I closed my eyes, trying to block out the suffocating heat, when suddenly, I heard a sound. A faint thudding, at first distant, but then it grew louder, closer, like the rhythm of footsteps approaching me through the desert. Finally, someone was coming.

The figure emerged from the haze, his form shifting in the heat, but as he drew nearer, I saw him clearly. A man, probably in his late twenties, with straight blood-red hair that glowed faintly under the starlight, like flames dancing in the darkness. His amber eyes gleamed softly, their intensity never wavering as they locked onto me. His skin was pale, almost ethereal in the desert night, and his tall, muscular frame cast a long shadow across the sand. He was strong, his every movement filled with confidence and purpose.

Then, he smiled. A wide, bright smile, revealing sharp white teeth that gleamed in the darkness, and he approached me with a calm, steady pace. His presence was both reassuring and unsettling, like someone who knew exactly what to do in any situation.

"Are you the one who fell from the sky like a shooting star, little one?" he asked, his voice warm and smooth, filled with curiosity. He seemed unfazed by my condition, as though he had seen this before. "Of course, you can't talk yet, and I realize this was an obvious question. You must be thirsty. Let me get you out of here."

Without another word, he knelt down beside me and gently scooped me up into his arms. His touch was surprisingly tender, as if I were something precious and fragile, and I found myself feeling a strange sense of comfort despite the heat and my desperation. He reached into his bag and retrieved my book, tucking it away safely before turning his attention back to me. Then, as if sensing my thirst, he handed me a bottle of water.

I reached for it, my tiny hands barely able to grip it, but when the cool liquid touched my lips, I felt a brief moment of relief. It was so cold—too cold for a normal person, and yet, I drank it anyway. I needed it. The coldness cut through the dryness in my throat, soothing the burn, and for the first time since I had arrived in this desert, I felt a flicker of hope.

As I looked up at him, confusion swirled in my tired eyes. There were so many questions swirling in my mind, so many things I didn't understand. He must have sensed my confusion because he spoke again, his voice calm, almost reassuring.

"I have ice magic," he explained, his tone almost nonchalant, as if the answer were the simplest thing in the world. "I saw the name Evie in the book that was with you. I'm assuming that's your name?"

Evie?

The name felt right. I nodded weakly, though I couldn't shake the feeling that everything about this situation was wrong.

"So, I think I'm right," the man continued, his smile growing wider, though now it was tinged with a touch of kindness. "It's a pleasure to meet you. My name is Eirwen Hadassah."

Wait.

The name hit me like a jolt of electricity. Eirwen Hadassah? The emperor of the Asten Empire? Davey's father?

My mind whirled, trying to piece everything together. The red hair. The amber eyes. The ice magic. It all fit. But something was off. Something didn't make sense.

Why was I meeting the male lead's father now? How could this be happening?

I forced myself to calm down, to focus on the present, to ignore the swirling questions that threatened to overwhelm me. I needed to think clearly.

"You look surprised," Eirwen said, his voice laced with a hint of amusement as he watched me. But there was something kind in his expression, something gentle.

Of course, I do. I thought, but I didn't say anything. How could I explain the whirlwind of confusion in my mind? I can't even speak with my mouth yet.

"But right now," Eirwen continued, his voice shifting to a more serious tone, "we need to get out of this place. It's far too dangerous."

Oh, I knew that all too well. The Desert of Tywod was one of the most hostile places in all of Danika, a place where the sun never seemed to set, and survival was a constant struggle. Getting out of here would be no easy task, especially with me in this infant body, unable to help or defend myself. But for now, I didn't have much of a choice. I had to trust this stranger—this man who seemed to know so much more than I did. After all, he was the first person to offer me any kind of help. And in this twisted world, I would take whatever assistance I could get.