'I died again... haaaa... Well, what should I do next?' Aeon pondered, gazing at the world with weary eyes. His mind burdened by the weight of an extraordinary gift and an unyielding curse.
Aeon Zenith was born with the ability to manipulate time, a power that surpassed mortal comprehension. Yet, with each encounter with death, he was forcibly thrown back to the moment of his birth, forced to relive his life from the very beginning.
It was an endless cycle that left him yearning for purpose, his existence drained by the repetitive nature of his existence.
Through countless repetitions of his life, Aeon had delved into the depths of his power. He had rewound time to alter events, accelerated it to witness the ebb and flow of history, and slowed it to savor moments of joy and beauty. But no matter the extent of his exploration, the outcome remained the same: a relentless loop of birth, life, and death.
'Maybe I should rest for now,' Aeon thought, closing his eyes and seeking solace in temporary slumber.
* * * * *
"Aeon, my baby boy, it's time to wake up now!"
Aeon was roused from his sleep by a familiar voice. He opened his eyes and found his parents standing beside him, their faces radiating warmth and love.
"You don't have to shout, dear," his father scolded his mother gently.
"But our baby boy is just so cute," his mother pouted.
"Haha, well, I can't argue with that," his father replied, a smile gracing his face.
"He looks just like you, dear," his father remarked softly, a clear resemblance shining through.
Aeon observed his parents, taking in the familiar features that hadn't changed throughout his countless lifetimes. His father, with his black hair, brown eyes, and chiseled face, laughed heartily while gazing at his beloved.
Aeon's mother, sharing the same hair color as his husband but with dark eyes and a lovely face, blushed at her husband's compliment.
'Father, Mother. You both still look the same,' Aeon thought, his weariness momentarily forgotten as he observed the unwavering love between his parents. Despite the countless cycles he had experienced, their affection remained constant.
Still feeling tired, Aeon decided to continue his slumber, closing his eyes and blocking out the sounds of his parents' conversation.
"Oh, dear, our baby boy is sleeping. We should leave quietly so as not to disturb him," Aeon's father whispered upon noticing his son's peaceful rest.
With that, the couple silently left the room, their footsteps fading away as they respected the tranquility of their sleeping child.
Aeon, left alone in the quiet room, allowed himself to drift back into the realm of dreams, his mind filled with thoughts of the endless cycle he was trapped within.
As he descended further into sleep, his weary soul yearned for answers, for a glimpse of purpose in the never-ending repetition.