Rebirth - Part 3
The Vale family house stood at the edge of Eldenbrook Village, a calm spot that seemed untouched by the village's hustle and bustle.
From the outside, the house was simple: walls of honey-colored wood, small windows with white curtains, and a rosemary garden that always smelled fragrant when the wind passed through. But to Eryon, the house always felt… too quiet.
An unnatural silence.
A silence that seemed to be waiting for something.
Eryon grew faster than children his age. His body was no larger than a five-year-old's, but the way he looked at the world—deeply, slightly sharply, as if examining something—made many adults secretly shiver. His gray eyes were like limitless mirrors.
Sometimes Aeran, his adoptive father, looked at him in confusion and scratched his head.
"This boy… it's like he can read people's minds."
Meanwhile, Mireille only smiled softly.
"He's just curious about the world. Don't overthink it."
Yet, behind her smile, Mireille herself often woke up at night because of the creaking floorboards. Whenever she opened Eryon's room door, the boy was always sitting on his bed, staring silently out the window, as if listening to something only he could hear.
During the day, Eryon often sat alone on the porch, watching the clouds drift by. He didn't truly know what he was waiting for. He also didn't understand why his chest always felt slightly hollow, like a large room that should be filled with something important, but was forgotten.
Sometimes he closed his eyes.
And in the darkness behind his eyelids, he saw a flash… of light.
Not sunlight.
A light that felt warm, gentle, and calling to him.
But whenever he tried to remember further, the sensation disappeared like dew swept away by the wind.
Aeran often took him to the small forest behind the house to gather firewood. They walked in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds. But whenever they crossed the forest boundary, the leaves around Eryon always moved slightly more strongly than a normal breeze.
As if responding to his presence.
Aeran once stopped abruptly and stared at the child in surprise.
"That wind… did you feel it?"
Eryon nodded slowly, though he didn't actually feel cold. What he felt was the opposite: warmth, as if something inside his chest wanted to come out.
Aeran patted his shoulder.
"Maybe you'll be a sorcerer someday."
The sentence sounded light, joking.
But Eryon knew there was a deeper truth to it.
At night, the voice returned.
The whisper he had heard when he first opened his eyes in this world.
— Eryon…
— I am here…
The voice was very faint, almost inaudible. But instead of being frightening, it brought a sense of peace that warmed his heart. Sometimes he looked at his own two hands, gently stroking his smooth skin.
Who… are you?
There was no answer.
Only a small vibration in his chest.
As if someone deep inside him was smiling.
Mireille often found Eryon standing alone in the living room, staring at the candle burning on the table. He didn't move, didn't blink, just stared at the small flame as if trying to understand something invisible.
"Eryon, darling?"
Mireille touched his shoulder.
The boy flinched slightly, then looked at her.
"Sorry. I… just feel the flame is… strange."
Mireille smiled gently.
"That's just how candles are. They are small, but they can illuminate the darkness."
Eryon looked down.
He didn't know how to explain it.
It wasn't the light that was strange.
But how the flame moved with his breath.
As if it were alive.
Day by day, the sense of foreignness grew stronger. Eldenbrook was full of life—the sound of the market, footsteps, children playing—but to Eryon, it all felt distant, as if he stood behind an untouchable pane of glass.
Sometimes he felt his small body was just a new, ill-fitting garment.
Sometimes he felt his soul was older than what was reflected in the mirror.
And sometimes… he felt someone was watching him through the morning light that streamed through the window.
Eryon…
Wake up…
The voice returned. Slightly clearer than in previous days.
Eryon opened his eyes.
The afternoon sky illuminated the room with a golden hue.
His chest felt warm—warmer than before.
Very warm.
Too warm.
He touched his chest, surprised to see his fingers trembling. Not from fear. But because something inside his small body was… moving.
Not muscle.
Not breath.
But something else.
Something like… light.
A light that wanted to come out.
Mireille called from the kitchen.
"Eryon? Dinner is ready…"
Her voice broke off with the clinking sound of metal falling to the floor.
Aeran, who had just entered the house, stopped in his tracks.
"Mi… Mireille? What's wrong?"
Their eyes immediately widened.
In the center of the living room, amidst the twilight glow…
Eryon's small body was surrounded by a trembling white sheen.
Like light trying to pierce his skin, dancing in the air, spinning into a subtle spiral.
Mireille covered her mouth with a trembling hand.
"E… Eryon…"
Aeran took half a step back.
"Is this… magic?"
Eryon himself stared at his two palms with confusion and slight fear.
"It's not… I… I'm not doing this…"
But the light shimmer only grew stronger, pulsing like a second heart.
As if to say:
I am awake.
-- To be continued