Fire crackled in controlled warmth, the fragrance of roses and bread wafting through a small home.
By the fire, seated in a rough wooden chair, a cloaked woman rocked back and forth. Her silver nightgown glimmered mildly in the fireplace's light, her golden hair wet and pearly skin glistening with youth.
She hummed a gentle melody, embracing her child with a motherly weakness and warmth.
By a waist-high table nearby, a man sat and ate in quiet. His short dark hair and stern brown eyes coupled well with his simple clothes and rough demeanor.
He gazed past a circular window to his right, into the deep dark of the forest's night. Beyond the crackling of the fire, occasional noises echoed in the modest village.
Insects, nocturnal animals, productive humans, and more all breathed life into Everoak Village.
Within his well-earned home, Caine found great comfort and rest. His wife, Elayne, was a wonderful companion—and he could tell she would be an excellent mother.
His brother did well as the village chief, and his sister as a Moon Priest.
The men and women of Everoak were equally accommodating and friendly, something he found surprising. He had only recently settled down here, yet they treated his family with such generosity and respect.
Caine stood up, finished with his meal, and walked towards his wife and child in silent steps. Watching the two sleeping with comfort and peace, he couldn't help but smile.
He took his child to a small bed near theirs, then carried his wife to his side by the main bed. The night passed in peace, marking three months since he had become a father.
***
5 Years Later, Year 361 of the Aurelian Calendar.
—
"Alric, over here!" A soft voice yelled, traced by a hint of mischief.
Startled by the sound, a young boy whipped his head to the side—looking everywhere with his full focus.
The ankle-level grass itched his feet, and the weak breeze chilled his pale skin—however, he persisted.
The sun was at its zenith, rays of light shining through puffy clouds of white. Below, children played and yelled, running in an age-old game of hide and seek.
Paths of misaligned cobblestone and unequal grass slithered between huts of stone and wood, all encircling a central church. The Church of the Moon, particularly in the quiet lands of Everoak Forest and Everoak Village, was present solely in this building.
A single priest represented the church in this desolate centerpiece, providing all the necessary healthcare and religious support the villagers needed.
She was also Alric's aunt and was now strolling peacefully through the settlement paths.
Adorned in a simple gown of gray and black, one could only recognize her through the famous badge at her chest. A silver circle with sparse craters and cracks, the Forgotten Moon.
Silvia Moon, bestowed her last name by the Church itself, considered herself a studious and neutral woman.
She spent most of her days secluded in Everoak Church, engaging herself in the books she had received at the end of her six years of education.
Such seclusion was not purposeful. Should anyone unauthorized catch a glimpse of what she read, or should such an incident be found out by her superiors, it would not end well.
Knowledge of the arcane arts was prohibited. It was restricted only to authorized sources, and even then in scarcity.
Because of this, with so many hours spent in solitude, Silvia balanced her days with afternoon strolls.
And now, as she enjoyed the smell of freshly baked bread and steaming meat from a household nearby, a yell shattered her peaceful routine.
Her brown eyes shimmered in focus, her silver hair swaying gently as she rushed.
In a minute or so, she found the source of the disturbance. Beneath a short bridge crossing over the small village river, a boy clutched his head in pain.
His dark hair was tainted with dots of red, his eyes shut as tears flowed. Silvia immediately recognized the five-year-old as her niece, hurrying towards him as she crouched.
Placing her hands gently over his wound, she closed her eyes in focus.
Opening her mouth, she began. "Silver light, cradle the wound, mend what is torn, hush what is pained. By the pale witness above, let life's thread be whole."
Slowly, as she spoke, a gentle colorless glow pulsed from her hands and through Alric's head. The warm crimson retreated into his dark hair; what little blood was in the river washed away.
The glow lasted for a few seconds, ending with a final weak burst. Silvia removed her hands, bringing her attention to the boy's skull.
Relieved, she exhaled. No mark of injury remained, thankfully.
Yet still, Alric remained silent, clutching his head. His tears stopped flowing; however, his body remained unmoving—almost unnaturally still.
Anxiety began to creep in. Silvia rapidly glanced all over his body, checking for anything. She shook the boy gently, calling him with undeniable worry.
"Alric? Alric, can you hear me?"
Crowded around them were five more children, all of similar age. Three boys and two girls, each of them tensed as their eyes widened in fear.
They had played for longer than usual and hid in somewhat dangerous spots, but who could predict that Alric would trip and hit his head?
They would have never played if they knew!
Unaware of what occurred around him, a boy with a misplaced soul underwent a tremendous change.
Visions of a distant world, another life, a forgotten past—all of it flashed through his mind in rapid succession.
The images turned into sounds, then tastes, smells, and memories. One by one, they flowed in a steady yet heavy stream. Unrelenting, the lifetime of memories crashed into his mind, shocking his muscle memory and fragile consciousness.
Yet what began could not be stopped.
Alric did not know on this day just how lucky he was. His physical symptom was but momentary paralysis, and his mental one was a mere dullness of the mind.
Far worse was possible, yet that timely spell—coupled with a mixture of luck and fate—led to a nigh ideal situation.
Eventually, after a minute of panic, a change occurred.
Gradually, he began to move, opening his eyes slowly. His fists clenched, his body trembling in phantom pain.
Two incidents overlapped, mentally exhausting him. His accident before death and his injury before recollection.
He looked at his aunt, barely recognizing her in his feverish state. With a smile of relief, he fell unconscious.
***
Alric opened his eyes to the gentle glow of dawn seeping through the window slats. The smell of porridge and herbs filled the small room, and a warm cloth lay across his forehead.
"You're awake!" His mother's voice came softly, breaking into tears as she leaned forward, brushing strands of hair from his forehead.
Caine, his father, stood nearby. His arms were crossed, his stern face betraying quiet relief.
Alric blinked, his mind still swimming with fragmented images of lights, machines, and words he could not yet place. Yet amidst the confusion, one feeling rose above all else as he looked at their faces:
Warmth.
Tensing slightly as he pushed himself upwards, Alric embraced his mother in a hug. She returned it without resistance, stroking his head gently.
'Are these…tears?' A clear liquid leaked from his eyes, a wave of goosebumps washing over his skin.
Two lives overlapped in his mind.
He was once John James, a simple man with a simple name. He had no family, had small but meaningful ambitions, and was on track to deliver on his realistic dream.
Now, he was Alric. A boy who was raised by a small loving family in a small loving village.
His father was a hunter, his mother a housewife, his aunt a religious witch, and his uncle the village chief.
To say he was overwhelmed would be an understatement.
He died at age thirty back on Earth; thus, his five years here were not enough to shatter the lifetimes of scientific knowledge he had gained.
Magic existed in this world. He died and somehow reincarnated. Another world with life, with humans no less, existed with a culture similar to that of medieval Europe.
The sheer impossibility of these facts was beyond absurd.
Yet, it was true.
John, or Alric as he was now, was thankful for only recovering his memories now. This setback provided him with a mental cushion, softening his existential realizations.
He was also thankful for many other things, such as being born in such wonderful conditions, having a loving family, and not being a gir—well, he was grateful, is what he would say.
Alric lay back down, exhaustion seeping into his limbs like a gentle tide.
His mother tucked the blanket around him carefully, as if afraid he might break, before stepping away with a soft kiss to his forehead.
Caine remained by the bedside a moment longer, arms folded, observing his son silently, in thought. Then, with a nod of approval and a rough pat on the head, he followed Elayne out, leaving the door slightly ajar.
The soft light of morning filtered through the slats, drawing pale lines across the wooden floor. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams, shifting with every draft of wind that brushed through the small window.
Alric stared at them for a long while, breathing steadily, watching the particles swirl like galaxies in the air. Each slow inhale and exhale felt different now—sharper, clearer, as if every scent and sound came alive around him.
'I'm here. I'm really here.'
A fragment of memory flickered: the cold hum of machines, the sterile scent of the lab, and the glow of data panels late at night. He remembered the loneliness of that quiet, the hollow echoes in hallways when he left work alone.
Now, the air was warm, rich with the scent of wood and herbs, and layered with the comforting aroma of porridge drifting in from the kitchen. Outside, he could hear the bark of a dog, the whistling of birds, and the rustle of leaves in the wind.
His chest tightened, and before he realized it, tears slipped down the sides of his face again, pooling on the pillow. He pressed a hand to his face, breathing out a small, shaky laugh.
'How? Why?'
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. The door creaked, and Silvia slipped inside, holding a small bowl of steaming porridge and a damp cloth.
"You're awake." Her voice was calm, but he caught the relief in her eyes before it was replaced with her usual composure.
She placed the bowl on a small table beside the bed and gently pressed the cloth to his forehead, checking for a fever. Alric met her gaze, studying the silver strands of her hair that fell loose from her tied braid and the small lines of fatigue at the corners of her eyes.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice small, his mind elsewhere.
Silvia paused, her hand hovering for a moment before she resumed dabbing at his forehead.
"It was nothing. Just rest for now, Alric," she replied, though her eyes lingered on him a moment longer, as if searching for something.
As she left, Alric digested further surprises in his mind. This whole time, from hearing to speaking, all of it was in an unrecognizable language.
He only learned it here, to listen and speak.
Straining his mind, he attempted to recall its name. 'Was it Aurelian? I think so… Isn't this kingdom under some empire by that name?'
Fragments of history distilled through blurry childhood memories surfaced in his mind. He knew only what he heard or was taught, and what he was taught was little.
Thinking about it, a common word repeated itself time and again in his memories.
'Aurelian Calendar, Aurelian Language, Aurelian Empire…'
This world was more complicated than he thought, for with every link to this repeated word, another mental link would be established.
Small.
His kingdom was under the Aurelian Empire, which itself was a single nation in a vast continent. His father regularly discussed, as he sold meat to merchants, trade routes across all sorts of nations.
His aunt taught him, every once in a while, some pieces of history regarding this single kingdom and all that was in it.
His mother sang him stories of heroes and legends, journeying across this vast world "Arcadia," across distant continents, against demons and dragons, gathering rewards through countless nations.
Through these experiences, his young mind associated a single term with anything local or nearby.
Small.
Yet as Alric lay there, eyes drifting toward the drifting motes of dust and the soft blue sky beyond the window slats, he realized that "small" was a relative term.
Back on Earth, he had felt small too—one human among billions, his life insignificant in the tides of history. His scientific pursuits were but droplets in oceans of progress, and while he held no resentment for that truth, it had always left him with a quiet yearning.
Here, he felt it again, but differently.
This world was vast, and he was small within it. But here, he had time. Here, he had family. Here, he had a chance to look at the world with open eyes and learn it from the ground up.
And here, there was magic.
His mind returned to the faint glow of Silvia's spell, the warmth that stitched his flesh closed, the soft pulse of energy that he could almost feel at the edge of his awareness. It had felt different from the predictability of machines, or the electrical warmth of a heated coil. It was more alive, yet more orderly than the chaotic dance of natural fire.
'What is it, really? Is it energy in another form? A manipulation of matter at the base level? A system of controlling environmental forces using the body and mind?'
His fingers itched to test, to measure, to record. But he closed his eyes, breathing deeply, letting the warm scent of porridge and herbs ground him.
'Not now. But soon.'
A knock came again, softer this time. The door opened, and his mother peeked inside, smiling softly as she carried in a small clay cup.
"Water," she said, gently lifting his head to help him sip.
Alric took the water gratefully, the cool liquid washing away the dryness in his throat. As she set the cup down, he grasped her hand, small fingers wrapping around hers.
"I'm okay now," he said, voice steadier than before. "Thank you."
Elayne's eyes shimmered, and she bent down, pressing her forehead to his for a moment before pulling away.
"You're our precious Alric. Don't forget that," she whispered, before leaving him to rest.
***
As afternoon light began to shift into the warm gold of early evening, Alric finally swung his legs off the bed, testing his balance as he stood. The floor was cool beneath his feet, grounding him further in the reality of this world.
Walking slowly, he moved to the small window, pressing his hand to the wooden frame as he looked out.
The village of Everoak lay quiet, smoke drifting from chimneys, villagers moving along the cobbled paths with baskets of herbs, firewood, or fresh bread. Children ran between homes, their laughter echoing against the wooden walls.
And in the distance, he saw Silvia walking back toward the church, her robes catching the breeze, the silver badge of the Forgotten Moon glinting in the light.
'Magic exists, and it is here. It is in this village, in this world, in the hands of people who do not even understand its depths.'
'But I will.'
A small, determined smile crossed his face.
'I will learn this world, piece by piece. I will measure it, test it, and understand it, just as I once studied the laws of heat and light. And with that knowledge, I will protect what I have here, and one day…'
'One day, I will build something lasting.'
That night, as the moon rose over Everoak and the forest sang with the chorus of insects, Alric lay in his small bed, wrapped in warm blankets, eyes wide open as he stared at the shifting shadows across the ceiling.
His hand reached out, catching a sliver of moonlight between his fingers.
'This time, I won't waste it.'