The words hit me like a tidal wave. Blind? I could feel my anger bubbling beneath the surface, threatening to explode. I had hoped for a new life filled with power and opportunities, but this? This was a cruel joke.
I floated in an odd, warm void that surrounded me, trying to make sense of it all. How was I supposed to be powerful when I couldn't even see? How was I supposed to conquer anything if I couldn't even navigate a room without help?
My thoughts spiraled into frustration until something else caught my attention—a sensation that gripped my entire being. It was suffocating, like the universe itself had decided to crush me. My train of thought came to a screeching halt as I realized what was happening.
You're kidding me… I have to experience birth, too?!
A garbled mess of sensations overwhelmed me as I felt myself being pushed, pulled, and squeezed through an impossibly tight space. Pain coursed through my new, fragile body, and I swore internally at that bastard who decided this was necessary. The pressure was unrelenting, an eternity crammed into moments. Just as I thought I couldn't take it anymore, it was over.
The cold air hit me like a slap. My body shuddered involuntarily, and for a moment, I forgot all my indignation. The harsh world around me was a stark contrast to the warmth I had known. My ears were flooded with muffled murmurs, voices speaking in a language I couldn't understand.
This sounds like gibberish, I thought, trying to focus on the sounds. Yet something felt off, like a key slowly turning in a lock. Before I could analyze further, I felt hands wrap around me. I was lifted, my tiny form swaddled in a soft cloth.
And then—smack! My bottom was struck, forcing a cry from my lungs. It wasn't just the pain; it was the shock from experiencing pain again.
A soft, feminine voice broke through the fog. "Madam, it's a boy," she said, her tone warm and soothing.
I can understand the words. Relief washed over me, but it was short-lived.
I felt myself being passed to another pair of hands. Disoriented, I tried to focus on my heightened senses. The world around me was a cacophony of smells, sounds, and sensations, each one sharp and overwhelming.
The next moment, I was placed in the arms of a woman—my mother, I assumed. Her warmth was intoxicating, a comfort I hadn't felt in what seemed like an eternity. My tiny body trembled, and I cried again, not out of pain this time, but out of something deeper.
"There, there, little one," my mother cooed, her voice like a balm to my raw nerves. "Mommy's here." She rocked me gently, her touch calming the storm inside me.
For the first time in years—or lifetimes, perhaps—I felt safe. I let myself relax, my cries subsiding into quiet hiccups.
But peace was fleeting.
"Why isn't he opening his eyes? A…Anna, what's happening?" my mother's voice broke through, tinged with worry.
"Let me check," another voice, presumably Anna, responded. Moments later, I felt a strange warmth enveloping my face, concentrating on my eyes. It was soothing, almost pleasant, and I relished the sensation.
Anna's sigh shattered the moment. "Madam… I'm afraid the little one is blind. My healing didn't work because he has no eyes..... I am so sorry"
The words confirmed my worst nightmare. I still had hope that this was all one big misunderstanding but Anna's confirmation sealed the deal. My mother's trembling became palpable as despair seeped into her voice. "No… no, this can't be. My baby, my sweet… my—"
Her words were cut off by the sound of the door swinging open. Heavy footsteps approached, each one resonating with authority. A deep, grating voice filled the room, commanding attention.
"How is he?" the man asked. His tone was devoid of warmth like he was inspecting livestock rather than inquiring about his child.
"He's perfectly fine," my mother replied, though her voice wavered.
"Give him to me," the man demanded.
My mother hesitated, but she was too weak to resist. I was handed over to him and he enveloped me in aura. The difference was immediate. His presence was cold, terrifying, and oppressive. It felt like his very aura was designed to crush those beneath him.
I braced myself, expecting to cry under the weight of it, but I didn't. Somehow, I endured.
"Hmm," the man—my father, I presume—grunted. "It seems he can handle my aura without crying."
"It's a pity, though, that he cannot see."
He handed me back to my mother with an air of indifference.
"Sweetie, that shouldn't be that big of a deal, right?" my mother pleaded. "He can live a normal life. His other senses—"
"Selene," my father interrupted coldly, "he won't be able to fight effectively. And he'll never use our race's primary ability. He's defective."
The words stung more than I cared to admit, but my mother wasn't giving up. "There must be another way. He can't be useless!"
"Don't push your luck," my father snapped. "The best I can offer is to give him a chance when he turns five. That's it."
"Can you at least name him?" Selene's voice trembled as she made the desperate request.
A heavy sigh escaped my father. "Fine. But he won't bear my house's name. Ragnar shall be his name."
And with that, he left the room, his footsteps fading into the distance.
The sound of my mother's quiet sobs filled the air. Her tears fell softly against my skin, a painful reminder of the reality I had been reborn into. Despite her sorrow, she held me close, her warmth shielding me from the cold indifference that had just walked out the door.
"Don't worry, Ragnar," she whispered through her tears. "Mommy will protect you, no matter what."
Her words carried a promise, one that I clung to. For now, I was weak, blind, and vulnerable. But that wouldn't last forever. I vowed to myself that I would rise above these circumstances.
After all, I had been given a second chance. And I wasn't about to waste it.