The crisp air nipped at Neil's face as he and Caspian, his cousin, made their way towards the frozen lake. It was a rare day of relative calm, the wind subdued to a gentle whisper through the trees. Neil, despite his eagerness to explore, felt a knot of apprehension in his stomach. This was the furthest he'd ever been from the familiar safety of Frostlake Village.
Caspian, a year older and brimming with a confidence Neil envied, strode ahead, his breath puffing out in white clouds. "Come on, slowpoke!" he called back, a teasing grin on his face. "The fish aren't going to jump into our laps!"
They reached the edge of the lake, a vast expanse of ice reflecting the pale sky. A small, cleared patch marked their usual fishing spot, a testament to their family's persistent efforts to supplement their diet. Neil, carefully following Caspian's lead, stepped onto the ice, the frozen surface groaning softly beneath their weight.
The fishing was slow. Hours passed with only a few meager catches. The silence was broken only by the occasional call of a bird and the rhythmic chipping of their ice axes as they tried to widen the hole. Neil, his initial excitement fading, began to feel the chill seeping into his bones.
Then, it happened. A sudden crack echoed across the ice, a sharp, ominous sound. Before Neil could react, the ice beneath him gave way. He plunged into the frigid water, the shock stealing his breath.
Panic seized him. The icy water was a brutal assault, stealing the warmth from his body in seconds. He thrashed, his heavy clothes dragging him down. He glimpsed Caspian's horrified face above him, heard his shouts, but the cold was a suffocating blanket, silencing his own cries.
Just as his strength began to fail, a hand grabbed his arm. Caspian, risking his own safety, had somehow managed to get close enough to pull him out. Gasping and shivering uncontrollably, Neil was dragged back onto the solid ice, his teeth chattering violently.
Caspian, his face pale with worry, helped Neil stumble back towards the village, their wet clothes clinging to them like icy shrouds. The journey back was a blur of shivering and gasping breaths, each step a battle against the encroaching cold.
They burst into the central lobby of Frostlake Village, a whirlwind of icy air and desperate cries. Neil, barely conscious, was quickly surrounded by his frantic family. His mother, Maya, her face etched with fear, wrapped him in thick blankets, while his father, Anil, started a roaring fire.
He was carried to his family's cabin, his body trembling uncontrollably. He lay huddled beneath layers of blankets, his teeth still chattering, his mind a swirling vortex of cold and fear. He drifted in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of his family's worried faces, their hushed voices.
Then, as the day wore on, something strange began to happen. As his body fought the cold, a different kind of chill began to creep into his mind. Fragments of images, sensations, began to surface, unbidden and alien. A dull ache, a sterile white room, the rhythmic beeping of a machine. A loving face, a gentle hand. Green grass, warm sunlight. And then… a fading light, a sense of finality.
The memories of Elias, his past life, flooded his mind, overwhelming him with their intensity. He saw his death, felt the cold dread of the hospital room, the warmth of his mother's hand. The pain, the fear, the acceptance… it all crashed into him, a tidal wave of a life he had never lived, yet now knew intimately.
He cried out, not from the cold, but from the shock of this sudden, impossible knowledge. His family, already worried about his physical state, were now terrified by his seemingly delirious cries.
But amidst the chaos of his emotions, something else stirred within him. A sense of… connection. A feeling of energy, of potential, like a dormant seed suddenly sprouting. The Artifact, bound to his soul during his journey between worlds, awakened.
He felt it, not as a physical sensation, but as an expansion of his awareness, a sudden understanding. He saw, in his mind's eye, the holographic interfaces, the grid-based inventory, the crafting table. He knew, instinctively, the rules of Minecraft, the logic of block and item.
The cold, the fear, the memories… they were still there, a chaotic storm within him. But now, there was something else, a strange, new power, a link to a life he had lost and a world he had never known.
Neil Frostwood, the ten-year-old boy shivering in his bed, was no longer just Neil. He was Elias, reborn. And he was the conduit of Minecraft rules in the world of Lumin, a power about to be unleashed.