The moon hung high in the night sky, casting a pale glow over the forest clearing. A boy sat on the grass, staring at it.
'Twelve years,' he thought. 'It's been twelve years since I woke up in this world.'
He remembered his previous life on Earth. Finals had just ended, and he and his friends were finally free of the semester's grind. They had gathered at a favorite bar near campus, their laughter filling the air. "Man, I can't believe we're done!" one of his friends had exclaimed, clinking their glasses together. Another friend had grinned, leaning in conspiratorially. "You know what we should do? Hit up the night market. It's not far from here, and I hear it's amazing at this time of year."
The suggestion had sparked immediate interest. A few drinks later, they were weaving through the colorful stalls of the market, the air heavy with the scent of spices and grilled food. The bustling crowd and bright lights made everything feel surreal, like stepping into another world. Vendors shouted over one another, hawking everything from handmade trinkets to sizzling skewers of meat. His friends joked and laughed, their voices blending with the lively hum of the crowd.
"Hey, check this out," one of them called, holding up a peculiar wooden carving of a dragon. "Think it'll keep me lucky next semester?"
"Only if you actually study for once," another quipped, drawing laughter from the group.
He smiled faintly at their banter but found his attention drifting. The sights and sounds of the market had a hypnotic quality. As they strolled, the group gradually splintered into smaller conversations, their chatter blending into the noise around them. He walked at the back, taking it all in—the lanterns swaying above, the children darting through the stalls, the vibrant energy of it all.
That's when he noticed the old man sitting cross-legged on the ground, his clothes worn and tattered. The man seemed out of place amidst the lively chaos, like a shadow no one else could see. Something about him caught his attention, and before he realized it, he was standing in front of him.
The man looked up, his eyes sharp despite his weathered face. "Spare some change?" he asked, his voice raspy but steady.
He hesitated, then pulled out some cash and handed it over. "Here, get yourself something warm to eat."
The man stared at the money, then at him, and shook his head. "I can't take this for free," he said. From his pocket, he produced a small red crystal, its surface glinting faintly in the dim light. "Take this."
He frowned, trying to hand the crystal back. "No, really, it's okay. Keep the money."
The man's gaze hardened, and he pressed the crystal into his hand with surprising strength. "Take it. It's meant for you."
Something in the man's tone made him stop arguing. Reluctantly, he slipped the crystal into his pocket. "Thank you," he said, though he wasn't sure why he was the one expressing gratitude.
Rejoining his friends, he found them huddled around a food stall, arguing over which skewers to try. "Hey, you vanished on us!" one of them said, tossing an arm over his shoulder. "Come on, we're about to call it a night."
The walk back was slow and unhurried, the group's energy mellowing as the night deepened. One of his friends was humming a tune under their breath, another recounting a story from earlier in the semester. He stayed quiet, his mind wandering back to the strange man and the crystal.
They were nearing the edge of the market when a commotion broke the peace. A man, clearly drunk and shouting incoherently, stumbled into view, waving a gun. Panic rippled through the crowd as people screamed and scattered. Time seemed to slow as he saw the man raise the weapon. Without thinking, he lunged, throwing himself in front of a young girl who had frozen in fear.
The pain was immediate and searing, but it barely registered. He hit the ground hard, his vision blurring as voices shouted around him. The girl was crying, her face streaked with tears, but she was alive. That was all that mattered.
As darkness claimed him, his last thought was a faint hope that she would be safe.
...
When he opened his eyes again, he was in the arms of a beautiful woman. The room around him was simple but cozy, with wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling and warm light spilling from an oil lamp on a nearby table. The walls were adorned with colorful tapestries, and the faint scent of herbs lingered in the air. The woman holding him had dark hair, her features delicate yet strong. Her almond-shaped eyes held warmth and intelligence, and her lips curved in a soft, maternal smile as she murmured words he couldn't understand.
'Where am I?' he thought, his mind struggling to process the unfamiliar surroundings. 'Did I die? What happened to me?' The memories of the night market and the chaos surged forward, the pain of the bullet still vivid in his mind.
He shifted slightly, the realization of his new, smaller body hitting him like a wave. 'Am I a baby? This can't be real.' Panic threatened to consume him, but he forced himself to stay calm. He closed his eyes and focused inward. That's when he felt it—a warm, pulsating presence in his mind. The red crystal was there, vivid and unmistakable.
'This wasn't random,' he realized, a shiver running through him. 'The crystal brought me here. Why?'
Before he could dwell further, a tall man entered the room. He had a strong jawline and piercing dark eyes, his broad shoulders giving him an imposing presence. His black hair was tied neatly at the back, and his expression softened as he looked at the baby.
The woman turned to him, her voice soft but filled with pride. "This is our son."
The man laughed, a deep and hearty sound that filled the room. "Excellent! Truly taking after our looks. This is undoubtedly the son of I, Leoric Tharvyn."
The man's gaze softened further as he turned to the woman and asked, "What shall we name him?"
The woman smiled, her voice filled with warmth. "Leon. He will be our little lion, brave and strong."
The man smiled and nodded firmly. "Perfect. From now on, he will be Leon."