Kael woke to the soft glow of moonlight spilling into the room. The familiar wooden beams of his ceiling greeted him, cracked and weathered from years of age.
For a long moment, he lay still, staring at the faint patterns of light filtering through the worn wooden beams above his bed. His body felt warm, soft sheets tucked snugly around him. The faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, blending with the crisp night breeze seeping through the open window.
It didn't make sense.
He bolted upright, his chest heaving. This wasn't the scorched battlefield of his death, the lightning bolt tearing through his ribs. This wasn't the damp, stinking slave quarters where he'd spent years wasting away. His hands flew to his chest, expecting the familiar burn of scars—but there was nothing. Smooth skin greeted his touch.
His head spun. What is happening?
And then, a voice.
"Relax, Kael. Breathe. Everything is fine."
He froze, whipping his head around. The voice didn't come from the room—it was inside his mind.
"You're safe now," the voice continued, "Take a moment. Adjust."
"Who—what are you?" His voice cracked.
"I am simply a manifestation of your mark," the voice replied, carrying a faint warmth, as if it were smiling. "Think of me as a guide. I exist to help you make the most of this life. Your mark has given you a second chance, Kael."
His mark. The memories crashed into him—the taunts, the beatings, the desperate rage that had driven him to kill Eryk, only to be struck down. His death.
His hands trembled as he looked down at himself. His body was smaller, softer. Not the hardened, scarred frame of his adult life, but the body of a boy. The boy he'd been before it all fell apart.
"No," he whispered. "This can't be real."
"It is real," the strange voice said gently. "You've returned to a time when your body was untouched by pain, by suffering. But this is not simply a gift, Kael. It is an opportunity for you to be better than you were at your last life."
The sound of soft footsteps pulled his attention to the door. It creaked open, and Kael's breath hitched as his mother stepped inside.
"Kael? You're awake," Callia said with a smile, her voice gentle and full of love. She carried a small tray with a warm cup of tea. "You've been sleeping so much lately. I was worried."
"Mother…" The word slipped from his lips, foreign and trembling. His vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes. She was exactly as he remembered—kind eyes, hair tied back with a simple ribbon, and a faint line of worry etched into her face.
Before he could stop himself, Kael threw the blanket off and stumbled into her arms. He held her tightly, his shoulders shaking as the tears came.
"Kael?" Callia's voice softened, concerned, but she didn't push him away. She set the tray aside and held him, running her fingers gently through his hair. "What's wrong, my little flame?"
He couldn't answer. How could he explain the years of agony, the loss, the bitterness? The mother he thought he'd never see again was holding him now, and that was all that mattered.
When his sobs finally subsided, she kissed the top of his head and smiled. "There, now. You've been having strange dreams again, haven't you? It's all right. Everything's fine now. Drink something and then rest. You look like you've had a nightmare."
He laughed weakly at that, though it came out more like a hiccup. "Something like that."
Callia tucked him back into bed, brushing the hair from his forehead like she used to when he was a child. "Rest, Kael. We'll talk later. I love you."
"I love you too," he whispered.
When the door closed behind her, Kael wiped at his eyes, his mind racing. The warmth of her presence lingered, but the cold reality of his situation began to creep in again.
"Are you ready to continue?" the system asked softly.
He flinched, almost forgetting it was there. "You're still here."
"Of course. You'll be hearing a lot from me, so get used to it."
Kael sat up, his hands gripping the blanket tightly. "You said this was a second chance. Why me? Why now?"
"Your mark activated at the moment of your death," the system explained. "It unlocked the potential within you. Rebirth was the only way forward."
He shook his head, letting out a bitter laugh. "So, what now? I'm supposed to just trust you?"
"That is entirely up to you. But trust or not, the truth remains: you are weak."
Kael blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Weak," the system repeated, a faint teasing lilt in its voice. "In every sense of the word. Physically, mentally, spiritually. You were no different in your previous life, but no matter. This life will be different."
"Show me," he said flatly. "Show me how weak I am."
A fiery interface appeared before his eyes, lines of text etched in glowing orange light.
Rank: Little Flame
Strength: F
Speed: F
Endurance: F
Ichor: F
Willpower: F
Kael stared at it, his eye twitching. "…F? Everything is at F?"
"Yes," the system said brightly, and if it had a face, he was sure it would be smirking. "But don't worry. Starting tomorrow, you'll have tasks to improve yourself. One step at a time. This life will not be like the last. You will become stronger, Kael. Strong enough to stand against anyone in this world."
Kael rubbed his face with a groan. "Fantastic."
"Now rest. Your journey starts tomorrow."
Before he could respond, exhaustion pulled him under.
The system's tone softened, almost affectionate. "Good night, Kael. Sweet dreams."
The flickering glow of the system faded, leaving only the faint warmth of its presence, like a hearth keeping the darkness at bay.