The piercing cold stabbed into Nathan's body like needles. His hands and feet were left numb as the rest of his flesh shivered in a desperate attempt to fend off the chilling air. He tried to call out to anyone, but his voice was trapped in the back of his throat.
His eyes refused to open despite all his attempts to perceive his surroundings. His only option was to hold onto himself in the strange crevice he found himself in.
He was like that for minutes, before those minutes crept into hours. With each passing second he could feel himself slipping further and further into numbness, which meant the cold was winning.
Just as he felt his conscious begin to slip away, he heard the crunching of snow.
"Poor woman, frozen just outside of town." They were foreign words that Nathan couldn't understand. To him it was simply gibberish, but regardless whether it was gibberish or not, it was a voice nonetheless – and a voice meant a person.
Nathan's throat, sealed by whatever situation he found himself in, couldn't stop his sheer determination. He forced his mind to stay awake as he pushed through and barely opened his lips, letting a meek voice through.
A soft wail of a child, lasting nothing but a moment. The traveler, unfazed by the frozen corpse, ceased his walking and turned with wide eyes. He rushed back to the woman and inspected her body closely, revealing tucked deep within thin blankets and her arms, a baby no older than a few months.
The baby writhed in agony and the man quickly took the him from her arms. The body slumped downwards as if her duty as a mother was finally over.
Despite not being able to sense his surroundings, Nathan could feel himself wrapped in a warm embrace. The man quickly ran back to the village he had just departed from. A fierce snowstorm had trapped the residents in for nearly three days.
His feet pounded against the thick snow as he reached the village gates. There were villagers slowly pushing the snow away and those placing out candles and incense beneath tiny stone statues dotted around. Others checked the buildings and made sure they were fine while reconnecting with neighbors.
Above the village stood a large estate, looking over everything beneath it.
The man carried the baby to the nearest house with smoke coming out of it. Nathan couldn't understand what was being yelled, but before long, he was being warmed up by many hands and dry blankets.
After a few moments passed, he finally managed to open his weak eyes, only to see dozens of people peering at him with concern and morbid curiosity.
"Will he survive?" A person asked. Nathan really wished he could understand what they were saying, but gave up. His body was too weak, and the situation was too unreal. Learning a new language was impossible in his situation.
With his last ounce of strength, he peered down and saw his tiny hands and feet, dyed a strange purple. He couldn't feel them or move them in the slightest.
"It is unlikely." A man, the village monk, responded.
With that, Nathan closed his eyes and fell into a heavy sleep.
The monk who was inspecting Nathan's injuries was bald and had plenty of missing teeth. He brought his weak eyes towards the child and gently lifted their arm.
"These injuries are too severe. Even if the child lives, they will lead a life without limbs; the frostbite has already claimed his hands and feet." The monk proclaimed.
The village cursed collectively in their own ways.
The monk brought out some herbs they had collected over the years from the mountain side. He combined some fireblade grass and lurker's bell in a tiny mortar and pestle and ground them into a fine powder. He quickly laid the powder on some bandages and weakly wrapped them around the frostbitten limbs.
"The rest is up to the spirits." The monk said solemnly. He turned to the man who brought the child in and asked, "Who is the parent?"
"I'm unsure." The man hesitated, he wasn't from the town so he didn't know if the woman was a traveler or from there. "Their body is kneeling just outside of town – frozen."
The monk thought for a moment before turning back to the child. Their skin was as pale as moonlight, but if one inspected it, they'd notice an incredibly soft, blue hue. The monk was unsure if it was the side affect of the cold or something else.
He turned to the village folk.
"Go fetch the body. Treat it with respect and bring it here, we mustn't upset the spirits lest they strike down the child. Everyone else should leave, this child needs rest."
Everyone slowly left the building while taking their last glances of the child. Despite the monk's best efforts, nobody believed the child would last the night.
The monk turned to the shrine at the center of the temple. It was overflowing with tiny incense and candles. On top of it were many different spirits carved from stone. He prayed for the child as well as their parent before lighting two candles.
He took out a strip of paper and began writing on it. He weaved complex symbols with simple ones with ease before removing his brush. He let the ink dry for a moment before hanging it from the ceiling.
When he turned back around there was a tiny statue sitting next to the child. The monks eyes widened in reverence.
The statue was very much like a cat from Earth. It stood on its hind legs and had its paws upturned together, as if begging for coins on the street. The eyes of the cat statue were looking straight forward at nothing.
The monk quickly gave a bow and a prayer before cautiously making his way to the child. There was no easy way of determining the type of spirit in front of him. His thoughts were traveling a mile a minute.
'Is it a Pure Spirit or a Roaming Spirit? Maybe it's a Trickster Spirit.' The monk knew better than disrespect a spirit, no matter the type. So when he arrived at the child's body, he gave another bow, this time it was deep and slow.
The statue however, remained unmoving and uncaring. It's paws kept hovering outstretched over the child's body. The monk could try to seal the spirit, but the child could be killed if he did that. Instead, the monk grabbed the few coins he had and placed every one of them on the spirits paws.
The spirit stayed in its spot, still unmoving. Once the monk blinked though, the spirit vanished into thin air like it never existed. This resulted in the monk flinching in shock and fear. For anything to disappear like that, it would have to be extremely powerful.
The monk looked down at the child. Nathan squirmed in unrest, but his fingers and toes moved without any trouble. The monk cautiously moved the bandages and saw that the purple hue from the frostbite was still there, but everything else seemed to be healed.
On the child's arm were three complex characters written that were quickly fading away. The monk quickly read them aloud.
"Oswin. Is that a name…? Oswin…" The monk repeated the name a few times more as the markings finally faded away so he wouldn't forget it.
Nathan stirred slightly in his sleep when the monk said the name.
A week later and Nathan had finally come to terms with everything. He was in a strange land, with a strange language, and even stranger people. He stayed with the weird monk while he was getting taken care of. The only thing he knew for certain about this place was that the smell of alcohol on someone's breath was the same as on Earth.
And the monk had plenty of that smell to spare.
Besides all of that, he was a baby now. Years working his way up the criminal ladder, joining the military for a few years, and becoming one of the world's most successful weapons dealers – all for a chance of actually being someone and living a luxurious life – only to get killed and be reincarnated into a baby.
It was a cruel joke, even for someone who had lived as bad a life as him.
Nathan stayed in a basket with blankets piled on top of him. The smell of incense was driving him nuts and he wanted fresh air. Yet nobody was taking him anywhere to do anything. He just got to watch the monk do menial tasks around the temple.
There were two types of people who'd come up to him, those while eyes full of wonder and those with eyes full of disgust. Nathan didn't know why, nor did he care. As long as nobody smothered him in his sleep, he was content.
He just really needed to learn the language and fast or else he'd be driven insane.
After another week had passed, Nathan noticed something. A couple kept coming to the shrine to talk with the monk. They'd stay for a long time and would try to play with Nathan, despite him not responding to their attempts at all.
They rarely prayed like all the others who visited the shrine. Nathan could tell that they wanted to adopt him, which left him with a sour taste in his mouth. That was how he lost his brother in his previous life.
'Well, he's not here anymore. If it means getting out of this stupid temple, so be it.' Nathan reasoned, yet he still wasn't happy about it.
Nathan watched the two of them as they happily hugged each other. The husband was rugged and a bit taller than his wife, but he had some muscle hidden under his thick, winter robes. The wife was a beauty among the villagers; something which even Nathan, with his little experience in this place, could notice was causing some envy.
'Please don't have any petty squabbles.' Nathan pleaded in his head to the other villagers. He didn't want anything to do with that in the slightest.
The couple came over and hovered over Nathan once more. They said some words Nathan didn't understand, but they were clearly excited. The man held out his finger which Nathan begrudgingly attempted to grab.
'If I don't want a rehash of what happened last time, I should play the good boy. Maybe they won't kick me out of the house.' He depressingly reminisced his last days with his little brother.
Seeing Nathan attempt to grab his hand, Nathan's new father squealed in delight. It caused Nathan to unsuccessfully raise his eyebrows. After talking to the monk for a while more, he gave the couple a few things.
"The spirit left his arms and legs like that, so I don't they'll ever heal. Maybe if I offered more money, he'd look normal." The monk said with regret. "However, give him these herbs every so often, you never know, maybe the color will turn back to normal."
"I think its adorable. Besides, you gave the spirit all you had…" The woman said with a warm smile. She looked at Nathan's arms and legs which were still purple, even after all this time.
They were clearly healed, but the purple color had never left.
"Regretfully, I doubt the greater society will share your opinion." The monk said with a sigh. "If you need anything, come fetch me. This child was blessed by the spirits and should be treated as such."
"Yes, monk Allric." The couple said while giving him a slight bow. They finally took Nathan with great care and left the temple.
Monk Allric looked out the door as the couple began to walk away full of smiles. As his skin touched the cold again, Nathan's eyes slowly widened.
He finally got to see the outside world in all of its glory. The first thing that stood out were all the structures in the village.
The buildings were intriguing to him, simply because they were so foreign to his modern mind. Most of the snow had melted away by this point, but the air was still nippy.
Fearing for their new child well being, the couple practically smothered him with blankets.
'Not saying I'm opposed to the blankets, but let me see this new world dammit!' Nathan pleaded internally.
"Why does he keep pushing the blankets away?" The husband's voice was full of concern. "Should we go fetch Allric?"
"No, we've got this!" The wife said with a thin veil of confidence barely covering her panic. "Oswin, come on, just keep the blankets on-!"
Nathan fiercely pushed the blankets away as he noticed the grand estate on the mountain side. His eyes widened in wonder as it was by far the nicest looking place in the whole village. Compared to all the wooden houses at the base of the village, the stone walls were glorious.
Nevertheless, he didn't even notice the struggles he was immediately giving his new parents.