When Ephraim opened his eyes, he was immediately struck by the strangeness of what he saw. Before him stretched a bright blue sky, dotted with two suns, one gold and the other almost liquid silver. The wind carried an unfamiliar fragrance, a fusion of honey and sea salt. He lay on a plain of luminous grass, each blade emitting a soft, vibrant glow.
He straightened slowly, his body surprisingly light. There was no pain, no fatigue, as if the weight of the years had been erased. He looked down at his hands: they were no longer wrinkled and trembling, but firm and young. He touched his face and felt smooth skin, a strong chin. His hair, which he knew was gray and thinning, seemed thick again.
"Is this a dream?" " he whispered, his voice clear and strong, different from the one he had heard on his deathbed.
"No, Ephraim Novariel. This is not a dream."
The voice he had heard before he fell sounded again, soft but powerful, like a song carried on the wind. He turned and saw a figure approaching. It was human in form, but translucent, shimmering with a thousand colors that changed every moment. The creature had no face, but an energy emanated from it, both soothing and impressive.
"Who are you? Where am I?" Ephraim asked, on guard despite the strange serenity that enveloped him.
The figure stopped a few steps away from him. "I am a guide, a manifestation of the energy that keeps this universe in balance. As for where you are..." The creature raised a luminous hand to the sky. "Welcome to my universe. »
Ephraim stared at the glowing figure before him, his mind drifting between wonder and confusion. Everything about this place, from the air he breathed to the glowing grass beneath his feet, seemed like something out of a dream. And yet, it all seemed so tangible, so real.
"You say I am in your universe," he repeated slowly, trying to contain the multitude of questions that raced through his mind. "Why me?"
The iridescent figure tilted its head slightly, as if considering how best to respond. "You have been chosen, Ephraim, by those beyond me. They have watched you, as they have watched many other souls. Your desire for adventure, your endless creativity, and your dedication to touching the hearts of others have set you apart."
Ephraim felt a shiver run down his spine. "Those beyond you… Are they your superiors? Gods, perhaps?" »
The guide remained silent for a moment, before answering in a tone marked by a certain neutrality: "Their nature escapes me as much as it would escape you, even if I tried to explain it. Know only that they watch, that they decide, and that they entrusted me with this mission."
A frustration mixed with astonishment crossed Ephraim. He had always imagined that, if there were higher entities, they would have precise answers to offer. But here, faced with this creature from another world, he felt that seeking to understand the incomprehensible would be futile.
"Very well," he murmured, resigned. "And this world in which I am going to be reincarnated... What can you tell me about it?"
"Well... to be frank it is a universe filled with different forces, a world of fantasy as you call it in your world." said the silhouette.
Ephraim narrowed his eyes, studying the glowing figure before him. Her words echoed in his mind, as intriguing as they were irritating. The words chosen—harmony and chaos, civilizations of untold wealth, opportunities beyond imagination—were vague enough to pique his curiosity without revealing anything concrete. It was a promise, a veiled invitation, but nothing more. To a mind as analytical as his, accustomed to constructing worlds with precision, it seemed like a provocation.
"A world shaped by multiple forces, you say," he repeated, a touch sarcastically. "It could just as easily describe a chaotic playground or the apex of a galactic empire. Should I expect fire-breathing dragons or crooked politicians? Or perhaps both?"
The guide remained impassive, or at least, he offered no apparent response. His form shimmered softly, changing color as if responding to a cosmic music that Ephraim could not hear. This lack of response, however, seemed more eloquent than a long speech. It conveyed a simple and implacable truth: the guide would provide nothing more.
Faced with this silence, Ephraim sighed and crossed his arms, trying to organize his thoughts. A part of him was excited, almost euphoric. Since a young age, he had nurtured an undying love for the imaginary. How many times had he escaped into books where heroes saved kingdoms, where wizards defied the laws of reality, where explorers crossed fantastical lands in search of lost treasures? He had spent years writing his own stories, inventing characters and entire universes. And now he was about to live in one of those worlds.
But this euphoria soon ran into a wall of uncertainty. His mind, accustomed to analyzing and predicting, sank into a whirlwind of questions.
"You say I'm going to find rich civilizations… but which ones? A brilliant empire on the verge of decadence, or an isolated tribe trying to survive in a hostile nature?" His fingers drummed on his arm as he continued to think out loud.
"And magic, how does it work? Is it a natural energy that I could learn to manipulate, or is it a gift reserved for a chosen few? What if I find myself without talent, unable to participate in this society?"
He paused, his thoughts taking an even more troubling turn. "And my form, my condition…" he murmured, his gaze lost in the immensity of the sky with two suns. "Will you be so cruel as to turn me into a helpless creature, a field mouse in a world of giants? Or worse, a slave, doomed to serve a master for the rest of my life?"
Images raced through his mind: him, a beggar in a vast, indifferent city, begging for a piece of bread. Or a half-animal being, forced to hide from hunters. These thoughts made him shudder. On the other hand, a more optimistic voice in his mind whispered that he could just as easily be a prince, a prodigious magician, or an adventurer exploring mysterious ruins.
But the uncertainty was still unbearable.
"Seriously," he said, his voice sharper, staring at the guide. "You're sending me into a world without giving me any clear indication of what I'm going to find there? Couldn't you at least guarantee that I'll remain human?" »
The guide made a movement that was oddly like a shrug. "Those details, Ephraim, are not my business. My job is to get you to the door, not to dictate what you'll find on the other side."
Ephraim opened his mouth to retort, but he stopped in frustration. What could he say? This guide was clearly just a go-between. Not a decision-maker, just a messenger. Yelling or insisting wouldn't change anything.
He let out a deep sigh and ran a hand through his hair—hair, he noted absently, that had grown thick and silky again, far from the thinning, gray texture he'd known on his deathbed. "Very well," he said finally, his voice more composed. "I suppose it's part of the journey."
But even as he spoke the words, his mind continued to wonder. It wasn't just the technical details that concerned him. He also considered how he would be welcomed into this new world. Would he be parachuted into an established society, having to integrate into a complex and hostile environment? Or would he arrive in a virgin territory, free to create his own destiny? Would he be alone or surrounded by allies? And would these allies be trustworthy?
Darker scenarios flashed through his mind. What if he was reincarnated into the body of a hated being, a criminal or a traitor? What if he inherited a crushing debt, or a sworn enemy ready to kill him the moment he arrived?
"Damn it…" he muttered, his thoughts spiraling into uncontrollable chaos.
But something inside him rebelled against that fear. A glint of determination lit up in his eyes. No matter the circumstances, he would find a way to thrive. Wasn't that what he had always done, in his previous life? In the face of illness, loneliness, the difficulty of breaking into the world of writing, he had always persisted. Even on his deathbed, he had continued to dream.
"No matter," he said out loud, more to convince himself. "Whatever form I take, whatever situation I face, I will make the most of this life. After all, this is my story, and only I can write it."
He turned his gaze to the guide, who stood still, flickering softly. He didn't expect any reaction from him, but there was one nonetheless. The light around the guide pulsed softly, as if in response to his resolve. Ephraim didn't know if it was encouragement or mere coincidence, but he chose to take it as a positive sign.
Yet one last thought struck him, almost like a stab: What if I'm not up to it?
He shook his head, pushing the thought away before it took root. No, he had no right to doubt. Not now. Not when he was about to start a new life.
Finally, he turned fully to the guide and raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you can't give me a single clue?" Nothing, not even a little survival tip?"
The guide didn't answer immediately. Instead, he raised a glowing hand and drew a complex figure in the air. A strange, undulating energy began to rise around them, and Ephraim felt an irresistible force pull him toward the center of a black vortex that had just formed.
"Wait! I'm not done asking my questions!" Ephraim cried, trying to resist the pull.
The guide stood still, raising a hand as if to bid him a final farewell. "Good luck, Ephraim. This journey is the beginning of a story that only you can write."
Before he could protest further, the black hole swallowed him. Ephraim felt his body stretch, compress, fragment into an infinity of luminous particles. Colors swirled around him, a cacophony of light and sound assailing him from all sides. There was no up or down, no time or space. Just a sense of incessant movement, as if he were being carried along by a cosmic torrent.
For what seemed both an eternity and an instant, Ephraim floated in this indefinable space. Fleeting images passed before his eyes: forests of immense trees, their branches crisscrossing like rivers; cities suspended in the sky, bathed in golden light; creatures of both frightening and magnificent shapes emerging from the shadows. Then everything suddenly went dark.
A warmth enveloped him, soft and reassuring. He was surrounded by a warm liquid, rocked by a steady, soothing rhythm. Ephraim realized that he was conscious, but unable to move freely. He tried to open his eyes, but they remained closed. His limbs were numb, as if his body were still forming.
"Where am I?" he thought. Then a startling truth dawned on him.
He was in his mother's womb.