The royal palace of Aetherium was alive with nervous energy. Servants bustled about, their hurried footsteps echoing through the marble halls. The air felt heavy, charged with anticipation and tension.
In the grand birthing chamber, the scene was chaotic. The queen, lying on a luxurious bed draped in silken sheets, gripped the sides with white-knuckled hands. Sweat beaded her brow, and her screams filled the air. Midwives surrounded her, their hands steady but their faces lined with concentration.
"Breathe, Your Majesty," one of them urged, her voice calm despite the chaos. "You're doing well. The child is almost here."
The king stood near the door, pacing back and forth like a restless lion. His crown sat crooked on his head, forgotten in the heat of the moment. His usually regal demeanor was replaced by raw, unguarded worry. He wrung his hands together, muttering to himself, "Is she alright? Why is it taking so long?"
A servant approached him cautiously, offering a goblet of water. "Your Majesty, please, drink. The queen is in capable hands."
The king waved him off, eyes locked on the door to the chamber as if he could will everything to be over. "Capable or not, my wife is screaming like she's being torn apart, and my child—" He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.
Inside the chamber, the midwives worked tirelessly. One mopped the queen's forehead, another positioned herself near the end of the bed, speaking softly to reassure the laboring mother. The head midwife gave quiet orders, her calm demeanor keeping the room from descending into complete panic.
"Just one more push, Your Majesty," she said gently but firmly.
The queen let out a guttural cry, using every ounce of strength she had left. The room seemed to hold its breath. Then, after what felt like an eternity, a sharp, clear wail pierced the air.
"It's a boy!" the midwife announced, lifting the newborn for all to see.
The room erupted in relieved cheers and murmurs of congratulations. The queen collapsed back onto the pillows, exhausted but smiling faintly. The baby was quickly wrapped in soft linens and placed in her arms.
Outside, the king froze at the sound of his child's cry. He pushed through the doors, his worry melting into awe as he approached the bed. His gaze softened as he looked at the tiny bundle in his wife's arms.
But as the child opened his eyes for the first time, a strange, almost piercing clarity seemed to fill them. And then came the thought, clear as day:
"Where in the world am I?"
The king and queen had no idea their child had already begun asking questions no newborn should.
The king moved closer to the bed, his steps hesitant but filled with wonder. He leaned down, looking at the tiny face nestled in the queen's arms. The baby's eyes were open, wide and alert, almost unnervingly aware. The queen smiled weakly, brushing a finger against the baby's cheek.
"He's beautiful," she whispered, her voice trembling with exhaustion and emotion.
The king nodded, unable to find the right words. He reached out, his large hand gently brushing the top of the baby's head. For a moment, the chaos of the palace seemed to fade away, leaving just the three of them in a bubble of peace.
"What shall we name him?" the queen asked, her voice soft but steady.
The king paused, looking at his wife and then back at the child. "He deserves a name worthy of his place in Aetherium," he said thoughtfully. "One that reflects the balance and strength of our kingdom."
The queen closed her eyes for a moment, as if searching her heart. "How about... Kael?" she suggested. "It's simple, but strong. A name for a king."
The king repeated the name softly, testing it. "Kael," he said, a smile spreading across his face. "Yes, Kael it is."
The queen smiled, cradling the baby closer. "Welcome to the world, Kael."
But as she spoke, the baby's mind stirred again. Kael? he thought, the name echoing in his head. A wave of confusion washed over him. Why did this feel so strange, so foreign? His tiny brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of thought running through his mind.
And then it hit him.
Wait… this isn't right. I… I've been here before. Not here exactly, but somewhere else.
Memories, blurry and fragmented, began to surface. A life that wasn't this one. A different place, different people, and a different time. He remembered being an adult, living in another world—one that was nothing like the grand palace he was in now.
I was… someone else, he realized. I died. Didn't I?
The realization was jarring, and for a moment, he wanted to cry again, but not from hunger or discomfort. It was the sheer weight of knowing he had lived another life, and now, he was here, starting over as an infant.
The queen noticed his tiny movements and cooed softly, mistaking his inner turmoil for restlessness. "Shh, Kael. You're safe, little one."
The king leaned closer, placing a protective hand on the queen's shoulder. "He already seems so strong," he said proudly. "He'll make a fine ruler one day."
The baby—Kael, as he now had to accept—felt a strange mix of emotions. He wasn't sure if he should laugh at the irony or cry at the absurdity. A ruler? He wasn't even sure how to control his own limbs yet!
But one thing was clear: this was his new life, and there was no going back. Well, Kael, he thought to himself, welcome to the world, I guess.