The darkness surrounding him was not merely the absence of light. It was an oppressive presence, as if compressing every part of his being.
There, time held no meaning; minutes became hours, and hours turned into days. He lost himself within an absolute void.
He tried to remember how he had ended up in that place. But his memories were like scattered fragments, fleeting glimpses dissolving in his mind.
In one instant he was conscious, immersed in reality; in the next, he sank into an abyss of nothingness. His mind fought to grasp any remnant of reality, but it was a battle without victory.
He was not just a prisoner, but a spectator of his own life. He reflected on the true meaning of existence, questioning if his essence was more than just a physical body.
— How much time has passed? — This thought consumed him. A hundred years? A thousand? Perhaps more, in an endless cycle of despair.
Without Mana, he felt stripped of something vital. It was as if a crucial part of his essence had simply vanished.
Its absence was more devastating than the prison itself. He had always felt Mana flowing around him, a constant river that sustained him.
Now, every breath was a struggle. It felt like trying to reach the surface in an ocean of shadows.
He was adrift, isolated in an endless sea, unable to find a safe harbor. — What was that? — The memories of the entity that had sealed him were a dark mist in his mind.
A formless shadow, yet filled with incomprehensible power. It had subjugated him with an ease that still made Aslam doubt his own skills.
The presence of that entity was not just a terrifying memory. It was a cruel reminder that even the strongest can be defeated.
Suddenly, something changed. A small tremor broke the suffocating silence. He felt a new presence. Small, but real.
A breeze. A breath of life in an unending desert. And then, everything began to shift.
His consciousness, slow and heavy, was pulled back. He felt something different. Air?
The touch of his body against the cold ground? The sensation was strange and, at the same time, familiar.
His eyes snapped open. Above him, the sky was bright and welcoming, as if receiving him.
He blinked, adjusting to the sudden influx of light and the shock of being awake. He tried to stand, but his body was heavy and rigid.
It felt as though he had slept for much longer than a few days. Every muscle resisted, refusing to obey his will.
His limbs felt like lead; every movement was a battle against the weight of time itself. The simple act of breathing felt foreign, as if his lungs had forgotten their function.
He remained there, stretched out on the ground. Through half-closed eyes, he watched the dance of the leaves above him.
— What happened to me? — The question escaped his lips in a hoarse, weak voice. He looked around for answers. The trees were tall and dense.
He found himself in a forest he did not recognize. — A forest? — He could barely remember the last time he saw such a thing.
The sounds of the woods flooded him: the rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds. The whisper of the wind between the branches felt like a storm.
After an eternity of silence, every noise felt like a hammer against his consciousness. He closed his eyes, trying to filter the cascade of sensations threatening to drown him.
As he lay there, his hand brushed against something solid in the center of his chest. Through the thin white fabric and the ornate red tunic, he felt a smooth, cold surface.
With trembling fingers, he traced its outline—a jewel, perfectly circular and blue as the ocean. It was set in an intricate silver mount sewn directly into the clothing.
The moment his fingers touched the stone, images invaded his mind. Memories that were not his now, inexplicably, became a part of him:
A young noble, with little more than twenty summers, receiving a family heirloom. — This crystal has been in our lineage for generations, son. It carries our legacy... —
The same young man, before a mirror, adjusting the ceremonial robes that now covered Aslam. "Pride and uncertainty," he felt, regarding his appointment to the Royal Court.
The tender touch of a mother, her fingers brushing the jewel while straightening his collar. — Remember who you are, my dear. This stone carries the wishes of those before you... —
The flash of steel in the darkness. Betrayal. An ambush at midnight, in these very woods.
The young noble's final thoughts—of family, of duty, of unfulfilled promises... Aslam exhaled, releasing the flood of memories.
His hand gripped the jewel tightly. He couldn't tell if these feelings were his or just echoes of the boy's final moments.
The weight of two existences pressed upon him. An ancestral soul lodged in a young body, and the remnant of a life cut tragically short.
Another memory, more distant: a great hall decorated with ancestral banners. The young noble's father paced back and forth, worry etched into his features.
— The court becomes more dangerous every day, son. Our family's position... — The mother's distressed gaze. Sisters whispering in the corners.
Political intrigues that would soon lead to tragedy. Aslam's hands clenched into fists.
A throbbing pain shot through his head as the memories collided like waves against a rock. For a moment, it was too much—voices, faces, fragments of a life not his own.
The weight of the young noble's heritage tried to impose itself, suffocating him. But he was no novice.
Infinite time in a dark prison had forged him, tempering his mind into iron. Where any other would lose themselves in despair, he breathed deeply and let the pain flow.
He did not resist. He did not flee. He simply absorbed. Every memory—the mother's touch, the father's stern tone—was a blade.
He received them in silence, filtering and discarding what was non-essential. The sharp pain persisted, but soon it transformed into something bearable.
He had trained for this without realizing it, during centuries of emptiness. Without time or body, his mind had learned not to break.
This body, this young noble, had been but a piece in a larger game. The ambush in the forest had been no work of simple bandits.
— Your family still lives — he murmured as the weight of the revelation hit him. — They have no idea you are gone — the truth whispered in his mind.
The burden of this knowledge rested on his shoulders. He was not just inhabiting a corpse; he carried the face of a son and a brother.
With staggering steps, he walked through the forest until the trees opened into a clearing. Ahead, a lake shimmered under the pale light of day.
The water's surface, smooth and clear, reflected the grey sky above. Without thinking, he approached and looked down.
The reflection staring back challenged his expectations. Even prepared by the jewel's memories, the sight left him breathless.
Those visions had been distant, like faded portraits of another's past. But this face, now his own, seen with his own eyes... that anchored him to the truth.
A youth stared back from the water: serene features softened by the light. Skin marked by delicate lines. Hair as white and bright as snow.
The scene should have felt familiar, but a haunting strangeness persisted. For an instant, he did not recognize himself.
His eyes, a soft green, shone with a depth that carried the weight of a thousand years. It was as if they had witnessed both the beauty and the tragedies of the world.
The face, once marked by small battle scars, was now smooth and flawless. His fingers slid along his neck and chest. The body was new, but the soul... the soul was still his.
— This is not me. I never knew of rebirth magic... — The estrangement was intense. He stripped off the clothes and entered the water. The cold brought him back to the present.
The water offered a chance for renewal, a moment for his soul to be purified. Waves seemed to whisper promises of an unknown future, urging him to let go.
He felt more awake. The water washed his body, but not the questions from his mind. — This body... — He observed the lack of scars, the different muscle, the youthful vigor.
His thoughts ran in circles. What had happened to his original body? He remembered the sealing, the confrontation, and the betrayal.
Now, it was clear: he had been reborn in another body. A young noble, dead in the forest, whose soul had already departed.
Emerging from the water, he dressed again in the soiled clothes, full of doubt. He knew time had passed. But how much?
He reached a hand toward the lake, trying to summon Mana. At first, nothing happened. The void of the sealing still weighed on his soul.
But slowly, he began to feel something. Mana still existed, but it felt different—more subtle, more distant than before.
The vibrant, constant flow now sounded quieter, more contained. It was as if the world were learning to live without him.
Each step through the forest was an attempt to understand what had occurred. There was something in the energy, something in the very earth that felt changed.
A serene smile touched his lips as he finally understood. There was no longer a reason to fight the inevitable.
This body, this life granted to him—be it by fate or a greater force—was now his. — Thank you — he whispered to the empty air, knowing the other soul might hear.
— Thank you for this body, for these memories, for this chance. — He closed his eyes and breathed deeply before continuing.
— I promise to honor your existence and care for what you left behind. — In that instant, he felt a warm presence around him, like a soft embrace made of light.
It was a sensation of approval, of mutual acceptance. But serenity did not only bring comfort; it brought questions.
Who was this young man truly? What was his position at court? What did his family represent within the kingdoms?
The images he received were fragments—glimpses of a life interrupted. Aslam wanted more.
The iron mind that sustained him in the void now turned toward a new purpose. He needed to fully comprehend the life he had been given.
Not out of attachment, but because he knew he could not protect this family otherwise. He could not honor his silent promise without knowing who he was supposed to be.
He ran his hand over the crystal on his chest. Then, as softly as it had appeared, the presence dissipated, leaving only peace.