Darkness.
Endless, suffocating darkness. It was not cold, nor was it warm—it simply existed, stretching into eternity. Here, time had no meaning. There was no sound, no sensation. Just silence.
Yet, I was aware.
I had lived a lifetime. No… I had ruled a world.
I had stood at the pinnacle of power, my name whispered with reverence and fear. The world bent to my will, not because I was just, nor because I was cruel, but because I was unmatched. I had not been born a monster, but I had done monstrous things. Not out of malice, but out of necessity. That was the price of power.
And yet, in the end, all of it crumbled. The throne I sat upon, the kingdom I had forged, the enemies I had slain—they all faded into dust. My own death was inevitable. Perhaps even deserved.
But death was supposed to be the end.
So why was I still here?
A flicker of something warm. A pulse of energy, distant yet unmistakable.
A light.
It called to me. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I reached for it.
A sudden, crushing force surrounded me. It was suffocating, yet strangely familiar. My limbs—I had limbs again—felt stiff and weak. My skin, raw and damp, tingled as air brushed against it for the first time.
Sound. A distorted mix of voices, muffled and urgent.
I tried to move, but my body refused to obey.
I tried to speak, but only a feeble cry escaped my lips.
My vision blurred, unfocused, as I struggled to make sense of my surroundings. The glow of candlelight danced across wooden beams. Shadows flickered along the walls, cast by figures moving frantically around me. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, herbs, and something metallic. Blood.
Where was I?
Then, a voice. Soft yet trembling, filled with exhaustion and overwhelming emotion.
"My baby… my son."
A woman.
The haze clouding my mind lifted, and I turned toward the voice. She was there—young, with dark, sweat-drenched hair clinging to her face, her features delicate yet strong. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks as she held me close, her grip shaky but firm.
She was looking at me as if I were the most precious thing in the world.
Because to her… I was.
A strange sensation crept into my chest, unfamiliar yet undeniably real.
In my past life, I had been feared. Revered. Respected. But I had never been loved.
Not like this.
My breath hitched as I stared at the woman—my mother.
The door burst open, and another figure entered. A man, broad-shouldered and weary, his clothes wrinkled as if he had been pacing for hours. His expression was a mix of disbelief, relief, and something deeper. Something raw.
He locked eyes with my mother first, then with me.
"He… he's here," he breathed, his voice hoarse, as if he had been shouting or praying for hours.
His movements were hesitant as he approached, as if afraid that if he touched me, I would disappear. My mother nodded, and with an almost reverent caution, he reached down, brushing his calloused fingers against my tiny hand.
For a moment, I almost pulled away. The weight of my past life screamed at me, warning me of weakness, of vulnerability.
But I ignored it.
His hands were rough, hardened by labor, but warm.
A name.
I needed a name.
"My son…" My mother's voice cracked as she smiled, exhausted yet radiant. "Sylas. Sylas Vael."
Sylas.
It was nothing like the name I once bore, a name that had instilled terror across an entire world. A name stained with blood and conquest.
This was something new. Something untouched by the sins of my past.
I was Sylas Vael now.
And for the first time in two lifetimes… I wasn't sure who I wanted to become.
Time Passes
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months.
I remained helpless, trapped in the body of an infant, a stark contrast to the overwhelming power I once wielded. My limbs were weak, my movements clumsy. Every small action—grasping a finger, lifting my head—became a struggle.
But that struggle was real.
It was nothing like the battles of my past life, where I commanded armies and crushed opposition with ease. Here, there was no war, no kingdom to rule, no enemies to outwit. Only a warm embrace, a soft voice humming lullabies, and the gentle rhythm of my mother's heartbeat as she held me close.
And, perhaps… that was enough for now.
Observing My New World
As I adjusted to my new life, I started observing.
My parents were not nobles, nor warriors, nor scholars. They were simple people living in a modest village surrounded by dense forests. My father, Edrin Vael, was a hunter—a strong man with sharp instincts and a protective nature. My mother, Lilia Vael, was the village healer, known for her kindness and steady hands.
We were not rich, but neither were we struggling. Life here was peaceful. Simple.
But the world beyond?
That was another story entirely.
I listened to the villagers talk. Whispers of roaming bandits, of noble families vying for power in distant cities, of mages who could bend the elements to their will.
Magic.
I felt it, too—faint, but present. A force beneath the surface of reality, waiting to be grasped.
And I would grasp it.
Not for war. Not for conquest. But because… for the first time in my existence, I had the chance to grow freely.
To choose my own path.
And this time, I would not waste it.