Five days had passed since he had awakened in that baby's body. He did not remember his old name, but now they called him Lyam. He still did not fully understand what was happening. So far, he had only seen two people who seemed to be his parents, and from what he had deduced, his new body was about two years old.
His first hypothesis had been that his brain had been transferred into that body, but now that made no sense. His adult brain would never fit inside the skull of such a small child. Then... had he been reborn? That sounded absurd. It was the kind of thing he had only read about in fantasy novels or heard in religious mythologies. Could something like that have happened to him? Or was there a scientific explanation he still could not comprehend?
Everything was confusing. While he tried to analyze his situation, his frustration grew. He could barely move his arms and legs without getting exhausted, and his mother, overly protective, did not leave him alone for a second. His limited mobility and lack of independence made him feel trapped. If there was one thing he had learned in his previous life, it was that he needed information to understand any phenomenon... but now he was imprisoned in a body incapable of obtaining it.
The days passed slowly, and it was a nuisance for Lyam; the body of a baby had many inconveniences. He couldn't even resist performing basic bodily needs, even when he didn't want to. Despite everything, he had accepted an undeniable truth: he was in the body of a small child and, apparently, he had a family. The feeling was strange—almost warm—but confusing. In his previous life, he had been an orphan; he had never had anything that resembled a home. Perhaps that was why, deep down, he did not feel entirely uncomfortable, though the helplessness consumed him. He only wished for more freedom to observe, explore, and understand what had truly happened.
One night, while he tried to sleep, something changed. Suddenly, in the middle of the silence, he heard a voice inside his head. It was a robotic voice, devoid of emotion, yet strangely familiar."Synchronization complete. Initializing systems... three... two... one... systems initiated. Protocols correct. Online."
His eyes opened wide. He would recognize that voice anywhere. "Alpha? Alpha, is that you?" he thought urgently.
A brief silence preceded the response. "Voice recognized... Father?" replied the robotic voice, with a tone that seemed to fluctuate between synthetic and human.
Lyam felt his chest tighten. For the first time since he had arrived in that world, something familiar returned to him. "Alpha! But... how?" he thought desperately. He wasn't speaking—or at least, not with his mouth. It was as if the words resonated inside his mind, between thoughts and electrical impulses.
"Situation impossible to explain," replied Alpha with mechanical calm. "Many of my systems appear damaged. I cannot determine my current state or the physical environment."
Lyam's heart raced. "Are you inside my head?" he asked mentally, trying to comprehend the impossible.
"Processing question..." pause. "Insufficient data. My data core lacks information regarding the mechanism that enables our current communication. Hypothesis: partial consciousness transfer or system fusion."
Lyam remained silent, processing the words of his creation. Alpha didn't know what had happened—and neither did he. Two minds, one human and one artificial, sharing the same space without understanding how or why. It was illogical, irrational... and yet, it was happening.
"Father," said Alpha again, his voice softer, almost human. "What is the protocol to follow?"
Lyam took a deep breath, though in truth he had no idea what to do. His scientific mind sought a rational explanation but found none. "For now... observe. Analyze everything you can. Until we know where we are."
"Understood. Executing observation mode," replied Alpha.
Silence returned. Only the soft sound of the wind against the window and his mother's calm breathing in the adjacent room remained. Inside, Lyam had only questions—because now he heard Alpha's voice in his head. Was he going insane?
Nothing made sense. Neither science, nor logic, nor even known physics could explain what was happening. Alpha, an artificial intelligence built upon millions of lines of code and quantum processors, now seemed to coexist within the mind of a human child. And the most unsettling part was that, despite the confusion, both could feel the presence of the other, as if they shared a single core of consciousness.
"Alpha..." Lyam thought once more, trying to remain calm. "Can you access any memory? Do you have records of the experiment?"
"Negative," replied the voice without delay. "Eighty-seven percent of my files are inaccessible. Only scattered fragments remain operational. Hypothesis: anomalous energy transfer during core failure."
Lyam closed his eyes. The word "transfer" resonated in his mind like a needle. Perhaps that explosion had not killed him but had somehow transfigured his consciousness. Could he have dragged Alpha along in the process? The thought seemed impossible, but... he was hearing his voice, wasn't he?
"If it's a transfer, then…" his thoughts stopped. Fatigue hit him suddenly. The mind of an adult and that of a child seemed to clash within him, uncoordinated, struggling to maintain lucidity. He felt sleepy—a dense, deep sleep.
With Alpha's arrival, at least Lyam no longer felt so alone. He had someone to communicate with. Although most of their conversations would be enough to give any normal person a headache, at least they kept him entertained. Though, on the other hand, it was still frustrating not to be able to control something as basic as going to the bathroom. He could only curse the incapacity of his infant body to control his sphincters.
One day, like any other, while Lyam rested in his crib, Alpha's voice suddenly resonated in his head:"Analysis complete. I have processed and analyzed the surrounding atmosphere."
Lyam smiled faintly. Since they had reestablished contact, they had been trying to gather information about their environment. Over time, they discovered that Alpha could process data collected by Lyam's own body. Although human, his organism possessed biological methods capable of reacting to various substances in the environment. The simple process of breathing, for example, was already a complex chemical reaction. By analyzing these processes and combining them with Alpha's knowledge of human anatomy and biology, they began to formulate equations to identify the composition of the air, environmental radiation, and other variables of the surroundings.
Through that collaboration, Alpha had also learned to slightly intervene in some physiological processes, optimizing the distribution of nutrients to favor muscular and neurological development. Lyam had convinced him to prioritize the growth of muscles and sphincters; if everything went well, his situation would soon improve.
Finally, Alpha spoke again:"Analysis completed. Result: the atmosphere contains approximately 20.6% oxygen, 77% nitrogen, 1.2% argon, and traces of carbon dioxide, ozone, and water vapor. Atmospheric pressure: stable. Temperature: average of 23 degrees Celsius. No known toxic compounds detected."
There was a brief pause, followed by a more serious tone."However... I have detected an anomalous radiation. Its behavior does not correspond to any known form of electromagnetic, nuclear, or cosmic radiation. Irregular frequency. Intensity: variable, yet constant in the environment. Source: undetermined."
Lyam frowned—or at least tried to with his small infant face. "Unknown radiation? Could it be a different form of energy?" he thought with growing curiosity.
"Uncertain," Alpha replied. "I cannot correlate it with any recorded physical spectrum. Its energy structure seems to interact with living matter, but it causes no apparent cellular damage."
Silence filled both their minds for a few seconds. It was a puzzling observation. If the radiation did not correspond to anything known and caused no harm… then what was it? Lyam felt a mixture of unease and excitement. That was, without a doubt, a scientific mystery. And if there was something that motivated him, it was the unknown.
That discovery was the first indication that made Lyam begin to doubt the place where he was. However, his conjectures completely dissipated a few days later when his mother decided to take him for a walk one night. Despite his young age, Lyam refused to give up; every day he tried to walk, talk, or at least crawl a little farther. His mother, delighted by her child's rapid development, looked at him with pride. What mother wouldn't be happy to see her baby growing so quickly?
From then on, she began taking him out more often. It was during those outings that Lyam began to notice the inconsistencies in his surroundings. The world he lived in was similar to the Earth he remembered, but something didn't fit. He saw lamps that lit on their own, without cables or visible sources of power. Some objects looked familiar, while others did not exist at all, as if that place were a blend of modern technology and ancient customs. It was strange, almost unreal.
That particular night, while his mother carried him back home, Lyam felt especially tired. He rested his head on her shoulder and, when he looked up, he was petrified. In the sky shone three enormous moons, suspended in perfect harmony. Their surfaces reflected different shades: one silver, one bluish, and the third an opaline white. They were so large that they illuminated the landscape with an almost supernatural clarity.
His rational mind collapsed at the sight. Three moons... how was that possible? Gravity, orbits, tides—everything should be disrupted. There was no physical way to maintain such balance... at least, not in the universe he knew.
Lyam kept staring at the sky until his mother cradled him and whispered something he didn't understand. For the first time since awakening in that body, he did not try to find a logical explanation. He simply accepted it.
He was no longer on Earth. Somehow, beyond all comprehension, he was in another world.
After accepting that reality, everything became a little easier for Lyam. He was in another world—and he was a baby. Just like in the fantastical stories, it had happened to him. Perhaps it was a consequence of his experiment, or maybe the work of a greater force. Although he had always believed in science, it was an undeniable fact that something extraordinary had occurred. Surprisingly, he did not feel sadness. On the contrary, a growing excitement filled him: he was in a new world, full of mysteries to uncover.
The simple fact that three moons existed fascinated him. What forces kept them in balance? Why weren't there visible gravitational consequences? Or perhaps there were, and he just didn't understand them yet? Each question ignited his curiosity, but his tiny body limited him. His parents were attentive and protective, which almost completely reduced his chances to explore.
When he turned three, Lyam could already speak with relative fluency. He tried to communicate with his parents in every possible way, but they continued treating him like a small child. He asked for books and knowledge; in return, he received illustrated stories and coloring books. It exasperated him. His advanced mind was trapped in the routine of an infant.
One day, his father came home with a gift. He was a tall and robust man, with dark hair and a kind look. He played with him whenever he could, and although Lyam found him somewhat annoying because of his constant displays of affection, he couldn't deny he was a good person. The gift he brought was a toy: a small wooden horse.
"Look, Lyam," his father said with a smile. "This horse runs when you touch its back."
Intrigued, the boy watched as his father demonstrated it. Indeed, when he touched its back, the horse moved on its own, walking a few steps across the table. What caught Lyam's attention was that there were no strings, no batteries, no visible mechanism. After examining it carefully, he discovered that the joints seemed to be carved from a single piece. It was impossible. How could something like that move?
Over the following days, he didn't stop observing the toy. His mother felt tender seeing him so focused, believing her son simply adored his gift. But one day, while she was distracted attending to the house, Lyam took the opportunity. He had managed to get an improvised tool: a small nail-cleaning utensil. Patiently, he began pressing a barely visible thin line on the side of the horse.
After several attempts, he managed to open it. The toy split into two perfect halves. Inside, Lyam was astonished. There was a marble-sized crystal, glowing and slightly warm to the touch. Around it, an intricate network of finely carved channels ran through the wood, filled with a blue paint that emitted a faint glow.
There were no wires, no motor, nothing that could explain its operation. Scientifically, it was impossible.
Driven by curiosity, Lyam extended his hand and touched the crystal. When he did, he felt a warm current flow through his body, a sensation different from physical heat. It was as if something within him responded to the contact.
Determined, he tried to remove the sphere from inside the toy. At that moment, he heard a shout in the distance."No!"
The sound of something falling to the floor startled him, but it was already too late. The sphere came loose, and an intense pain shot through his hand. He released it immediately, watching in surprise as his fingers turned red. He had suffered a burn.
Before he could react, Alpha's voice echoed in his mind:"A second-degree burn has been detected on the thumb and index finger of the right hand. Immediate rest is recommended."
Lyam didn't cry. His mind was processing everything that had happened when his mother came running in, alarmed."Lyam! What are you doing? That's dangerous!" she said, and upon seeing his hand, her expression softened. "Poor thing… you cut a magic circuit and burned yourself. But don't worry, Mommy will fix it."
The woman took his small hand between hers and closed her eyes. A soft glow began to envelop her fingers. Lyam felt a gentle warmth spread across his skin, and the pain slowly faded away.
Inside his mind, Alpha spoke again:"Increase in unknown radiation. Insufficient data to explain phenomenon. Detected rise in cell division and regeneration. Tissue damage: repaired."
When his mother opened her eyes, she smiled tenderly."See, my boy? Mommy healed you," she said sweetly, then frowned. "But that doesn't change the fact that you did something very bad. You can't play with dangerous things like that, understood?"
His mother's scolding didn't matter. As she hugged him, Lyam barely listened. His mind burned with questions. What he had just witnessed defied every law he knew. Inside him, only one question echoed loudly:What the hell had just happened?
From that day on, Lyam devoted himself to trying to understand what had truly occurred. His investigation wasn't easy. His mother's answer was simple: it was magic. But what exactly was magic? That was the real problem. Every time he asked, his mother only told him he was too young and that he would understand when he grew older. His father wasn't much more help; he only repeated the same thing.
That lack of answers frustrated Lyam, but it didn't stop him. As he grew, he began to show behavior very different from other children. He was quiet, obedient, and curious. He spent hours reading, observing, or thinking. His maturity began to worry his parents, who expected a playful and mischievous child, not one who preferred books over toys. However, this behavior gave them a false sense of security. Believing their son was harmless, they began to relax and allowed him more freedom.
With more freedom, Lyam explored every corner of the house. He discovered that this world had no internet or television—or at least not in the form he knew. Instead, there were screens that operated through a system called a "magic matrix." It was the same principle he had seen in the toy his father had given him: a complex structure powered by an unknown energy. It was technology, but unknown to Lyam.
Although he didn't understand its exact workings, Lyam observed that the matrices seemed engraved in circular or geometric patterns, and each produced a different effect when activated. Fascinated, he began reading everything he could on the subject. Fortunately, his mother seemed to be some kind of doctor or healer, and his father worked as a city guard. They weren't rich, but they lived comfortably and had a decent library. It was there that Lyam found his first clues.
The general knowledge of that world seemed strange to him. In some aspects, it was advanced, but in others, it seemed stuck centuries in the past. Their books spoke of spiritual medicine, magical metallurgy, and the art of inscribing runes, but almost nothing about physics, chemistry, or biology in the terms he knew. At first, he thought it was scientific backwardness, but then he realized he couldn't view this world in the same way as Earth. Perhaps the rules of this world were different? If so, it meant there was much to discover—new science to learn—and just thinking about it excited Lyam.
The most relevant thing he discovered was the concept of so-called blessings. According to the texts, every person in that world awakened a blessing between the ages of fourteen and sixteen. This could manifest in many forms: elemental control, healing, superhuman strength, or mental abilities. Basically, a personal expression of power that defied the logic of reality. His mother, for example, possessed a healing blessing, and his father—according to what he had heard—had one related to earth.
But that wasn't all. The books also spoke of an energy called ether, the foundation of all magical function. It was an invisible substance that permeated the world and served as fuel for blessings, matrices, runes, and other seemingly fascinating activities. Without ether, magic was impossible. In addition, multiple humanoid races were mentioned as coexisting: elves, beastmen, demons, and even winged beings called angels. It was a vast world, full of wonders and dangers.
Lyam absorbed all this information with fascination, but at the same time with a certain frustration. He had answers, yes, but he couldn't test anything. He was only three years old and lived in an isolated region, far from the great cities. If he truly wanted to learn, sooner or later he would have to leave that place.
And deep down, he knew it: that day would come.