**The Shadows of the Past**
The first rays of the day shimmered through the trees surrounding the small, rural village. The scent of damp earth and fresh wood lingered in the air, while the birds sang their songs. It was a peaceful morning, but it left a hint of melancholy in Ilyas' heart.
Ilyas stood at the edge of his modest property, chopping wood. The axe rhythmically struck the logs, and sweat trickled down his forehead. He had been living in this village for a year now, and the villagers had slowly grown accustomed to his presence. At first, they had greeted him with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty, but by now, they had accepted him.
Yet, Ilyas often felt like an outsider. He lived in a small cabin on the edge of the village, surrounded by forests and fields, spending most of his time alone. He had no close friends, only fleeting acquaintances who helped him with his daily tasks or occasionally spoke to him. The villagers appreciated his work and the calm he brought to the village, but there always seemed to be an invisible barrier between them. He couldn't really blame them, though, as he hadn't made much effort to form friendships himself.
As he chopped wood, his thoughts kept drifting back to the past. Memories of the moment when everything began came to mind – a dark sky, a gentle breeze, and the walk home from work. He had worked overtime that day, his mind occupied with tasks still needing to be done.
Then it had happened. The car had appeared out of nowhere, the roaring engine and the red flashing lights were all he saw in the last moment before the vehicle hit him. The impact was brutal and sudden, yet surprisingly not painful. In the second he plunged into darkness, he felt a sense of floating, followed by a painful emptiness.
"I guess that's it."
Despair overwhelmed him as thoughts of his parents and friends took over. He wondered if they would miss him.
When he awoke, he found himself in a body that was barely eight years old. A confusing feeling, foreign to him, overtook him. He wasn't just in another world, but he also had the appearance of a child, while carrying the knowledge and memories of an adult. He was lucky his master had found him and taken him under his wing. Under his guidance, he learned to survive and everything important about this new world. It was a challenging yet pleasant time he spent with his new master.
But by now, twelve years had passed since that day, and the memories of his master were both a source of strength and pain. It was a time of learning and growth, but also of loss and loneliness.
With a sigh, he let the axe sink and closed his eyes. The images returned: the feeling of loneliness and loss as he awoke in a new world without the familiar faces that had surrounded him in his former existence. Suddenly, he was no longer the man he once had been. Instead, he found himself in the body of a small child.
"Ilyas!"
The voice of a neighbor snapped him out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes and saw Helena, a middle-aged woman with warm eyes and a friendly smile. She had been one of the first villagers to greet him kindly, and now she often came by to check on him.
"I just wanted to let you know that you shouldn't stay cooped up in your little cabin all the time. Maybe you should take a walk?"
"Thanks, Helena," Ilyas replied, smiling back as he picked up the axe. "I'll think about it."
Helena nodded and turned to leave. "If you need anything, let me know! The children often ask about you – to them, you're like a mysterious warrior."
Ilyas chuckled softly, shaking his head. A warrior he certainly was not. "I'm no warrior, just a simple woodcutter," he muttered, watching her walk back towards the village.
As the sounds of the village faded into the distance, Ilyas thought about the moments he had experienced in this new world. The challenges he had faced – the battles against wild beasts, learning magic, and surviving in a foreign environment – had shaped him. Yet it wasn't the strength he had gained that fulfilled him, but rather the loneliness that often overwhelmed him.
He sat down on a tree stump and gazed into the distance. The hills stretched out to the horizon, and in the distance, he could make out the outlines of a forest. Thoughts of his old home suddenly flooded him – of the friends he would never see again, and of his parents. He often wondered how they were. Did they miss him? Had they eventually come to terms with his death?
With a deep breath, he stood up and began chopping wood again. It was a way to distract himself, to drive the thoughts away. The rhythmic blows of the axe on the wood were soothing, and he felt at peace with the earth that now sheltered him.
He kept up this steady rhythm for over an hour, and as he finally turned towards the cabin, he sensed that something was in the air. A feeling that told him changes were coming.
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This is my first time writing a book, so please it would help me even a little if you could leave a comment for Support or help improve my story. I really didn't know how to start so I watched many Videos and read other Novels but I'm still not quite satisfied so please I'd really appreciate it if you help.
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