A child of tender age suddenly opened his eyes ever so slowly. His eyes shone with intelligence and vigilance beyond his years. His still chubby little hands went to his chest.
'What is happening?' He asked in confusion.
He strangely looked at his body, methoditically examined each part of his anatomy.
'Wasn't I supposed to be dead?' he stressed.
A stream of tears, all too easily, strained down his small face when the last scene he could remember immediately made its way to his memory.
He just lay there, unmoving.
Chocked out sobs could be heard once every while…
After an extended duration of time passed, much longer than the small 'child' would like to admit, he started looking around. Only now did he worry about his location.
The room. More like the suite he was situated in simply could not have been any more different from the last minimal all-white room that marked his death. The wooden floor looked squeaky clean. The walls were a beautiful beige colour and had beautiful wooden lines decorated with golden accessories running along with them.
The ceiling took the walls' colour, and in the middle of it was a large luminaire.
The bed that he was on could fit twenty more children his size. The height of the ceiling was excessively high. He had to crane his neck to fully measure it in.
In front of him was a large vintage brick chimney. The firewood still burned bright inside it, and on top of it were various candle stands and paintings decorating it.
The entire large room was carpeted with what the child could only assume was a high-quality red carpet. Even animal skins were mixed in as well.
And in the middle of it all was a shining wooden table, with padded chairs surrounding it.
'Just where the hell am I?' The child only panicked further as he took in the full details of the room he appeared to be in.
'Was I kidnapped by some rich people? But. Why? And what is up with my body?' He paused for a second.
'RIGHT, my body.' the child screamed in his mind.
The child slowly got up; the edge of the bed served as support for what seemed like a monumental effort. His legs were shaky, and the wooden floor slightly creaked with each step.
His breathing was shallow, barely taking in enough air to fill his small lungs.
"Hahaha, I'm walking. I can't believe I'm finally walking!" exclaimed the child in an ecstatic voice. He couldn't help the tears running down his face.
He forgot everything for that moment; he didn't care about anything.
Likewise, he focused on the present and lost himself, relishing the feeling of walking on his two feet once again. Tears and snot ruined his otherwise cute visage.
After a while of walking— if you could call it that. The child seemed to gain a semblance of confidence.
He slowly walked by, using multiple pieces of furniture as support. The child came across a huge round mirror. It was decorated with a golden line on its periphery.
He could see a child looking right back from within the mirror. The same ocean blue he inherited from his dearest mother and silver hair to go along with it. It was much different from his black coloured one beforehand.
His nightwear, simple high-quality small pants and a hoodie, only served to accentuate his cuteness. The kid in front of him looked ready to stir the hearts of young ladies in the future.
He kept touching each part of his face. Almost as if confirming whether he was dreaming or not.
'This is really happening, isn't it?' thought the child, tone unidentifiable.
He pinched his cheeks until they turned crimson. His reflection mirrored his ways, showing an even cuter child with his red cheeks.
He continued his crawl-like walk unperturbed. He gazed upon a painting, and it showed a picture of an even younger version of him hand-in-hand with two other people.
A stunning woman, looking in the latter parts of her twenties. She had blond hair that reached her waistline and the same ocean-blue eyes as the happy-looking child holding her left hand. She wore an elegant white dress that showcased bits of her curvaceous figure.
The woman was looking lovingly at the other man in the painting.
The slightly older-looking man held the child's other hand. He had the same happy smile as the child in the middle of them.
He was a tall and robust man with a squared jaw-line. His silver hair went down to his shoulders, hiding one of his golden eyes. The military uniform he wore perfectly showcased his rippling muscles. The uniform consisted of grey pants and a black lapel, and it was decorated with various medals. Over the uniform was a long overcoat that reached all the way to the floor.
The child brought his hands to his face and some tears filed his small hand.
"Huh? Why am I crying?" He inquired, pausing for a few seconds. "I've been crying all too easy for a while now." He murmured, surprised by his easily trigged emotional state ever since he woke up.
He continued his tour around the alien room, exploring what he could. Suddenly, the small child stopped dead in his track, grabbed his head slightly ''Eric, Elric… Eldric… Yes, that's my name."
The now who's name Eldric stayed at his spot, hoping for more to come, but he was massively disappointed. He could make out no more information. The metaphorical black and blurry smoke wall was inhibiting his memory recovery.
Whenever he would try, excruciating headaches assaulted his very being.
Giving up after a while, he decided to stop and continue walking around and simply hope for the best.
Luckily for Eldric, slowly but surely, some memories managed to escape from the black cloudy wall.
He looked intently at the portrait for a few seconds. "That's my mother in this life? Aria Blackwood?" He took in the full picture of the young woman in the painting.
The longer he gazed at her figure, the more emotional he got... And the more emotional he got, the more tears started going down his face.
She was no longer with him... His mother was not alive this time, it seems.
He couldn't understand how naturally it came to him to call her 'Mother'.
Tears still in his eyes, he declared that no woman was worthy enough to replace his dear mother Clara.
Never in a million years.
But he would do well at honouring her. That's the least every mother deserved.
Eldric didn't know what was happening, what happened, or what could happen in the future. All he knew is that he wouldn't throw this god-given chance down the drain.
He didn't care that he might have possibly robbed a child of his chance at life. He didn't care that he didn't know what in the actual name of God was going on, nor for what reason was he brought here.
There could even be abstract machinations he couldn't hope to understand. Eldric is fully aware that there is nothing free in this world. He doubted that would ever change, no matter what world.
But for now, all he knew was he would not waste his chance.
The chance that he always wanted.
The chance he got.
The chance at a normal life.