Darkness. Complete, utter darkness.
A young man floated, suspended in an endless void. Whether he was anchored in place or drifting through some far-off realm, he couldn't tell. Direction didn't exist here—neither did time.
There was nothing. No sound, no smell, no taste. No sense of touch either. A pool of absolute nothingness surrounded him, swallowing him whole.
Oddly enough, it felt almost peaceful—almost. That serenity was quickly undercut by the sheer terror of it all. It was as if he was teetering on the edge of existence. It was as if the universe was hesitating, unsure whether to keep him or let him go.
Then, slow fragments of memory began to return.
He was a student. He remembered rushing to class. Then an old woman, a stolen handbag, and him giving chase. The sound of his footsteps pounding the pavement echoed in his memory. Then—a loud sound of the gunshot. He remembered his chest blooming in warmth as he fell to the ground.
Next came nothingness.
Fear crept in like a tide. He tried to move—but he had no limbs. Tried to scream—but he had no vocal chords. His heart should've been racing, thundering in his chest. But he had no heart.
Panic overtook him like a wave crashing over a fragile stone. He fought it, clawed at it with the tattered remains of his will, trying desperately to stay sane.
But it was no use.
Insanity bloomed—it spread like ink in the water, covering every corner of his mind. He felt it—not as hallucinations or voices, but as gnawing chaos beneath the surface. His mind remained painfully clear, but that clarity only made it worse.
Time passed. Or at least, he thought it did. In that timeless nothingness, it could've been seconds or centuries.
Then, a sudden shift. Something in his vision began to change. The darkness bent inward, folding into itself, condensing into a deeper shade, as if trying to devour itself.
Then—a sudden flash of light blinded his vision.
The oppressive black vanished, replaced by shimmering, iridescent rays. The light danced and pulsed like it had a mind of its own. It shifted in patterns, alive and breathing. He tried to look away, to turn from it—but he couldn't move. All he could do was stare.
"Is this what death is like?" he wondered.
The light inched closer—slow at first, then faster. Another flash exploded across his vision and suddenly, things changed again.
This time, it wasn't darkness. It wasn't light either. It was... a sound. Distant at first, then growing clearer.
"Congratulations, Sir and Madam. Your son is healthy."
"Huh?" Confusion bloomed in his mind.
Then, a sudden realisation hit him like a truck—pieces started to fall into place.
He died. And now... he was being reincarnated?
Just like the stories he used to read in his spare time—the ones about reincarnation, other worlds, new lives. He never believed those tales were real. And yet, here he was.
He forced his eyes open, squinting against the harsh light. A storm of color and shapes met him. It was overwhelming—seeing hurt more than he expected.
Three figures hovered above him.
The first, a woman, cradled him gently. Her black hair framed a tear-streaked face, her dark eyes shimmering with emotion. She looked to be in her late thirties, radiating warmth as her smile lit up the room.
Beside her stood a tall man with blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He was broad-shouldered, his presence commanding yet gentle. Something about him stirred unease in the back of his mind—comforting, yes, but...also something he couldn't quite grasp in that short moment.
The third figure appeared to be a doctor of some sorts. He wore a long, flowing garment—not quite a robe, but far from anything he had ever seen in a hospital. His presence was calm and practised, but the air around him seemed to shimmer faintly.
Infant's eyes scanned the room. It didn't resemble a modern hospital. Everything was simple, crafted from wood, with faint metallic accents. No blinking machines. No fluorescent lights. Just a quiet, almost sacred stillness of a wooden room.
Before he could observe more, the woman holding him broke the silence.
"Hi, Ares. I'm your mama," she said gently, her voice trembling with joy, fresh tears falling freely.
"Ares?" he thought. "Am I really going to have to call this woman my mother?"
He tried to speak, but all that came out was a sharp cry of a newborn baby.
Her smile widened at the sound. Her joy was so raw and so real, that it stunned him.
"Huh? I'm not crying!" he protested in his head. But his body disagreed, and his tiny wails continued.
"Hmm, he seems a bit distressed. Let me ease his pain," said the calm voice of the doctor.
He extended his hand, and a swirl of green light shimmered as it materialised at his palm. It twirled in gentle spirals, drifting toward the crying infant.
Ares' thoughts spun.
"No way! Is this—"
As the green particles touched his skin, a wave of calm flooded his tiny body. The pain of birth, the trauma of death, the weight of two lifetimes—it all melted away.
"Magic!" he realized, awe blooming within him.
And then, despite his futile attempt at speaking, his infant body simply cried louder.