I was just an ordinary doctor in Lagos, Nigeria. A simple man trying to live right in a world that rarely rewarded it. That day, like so many others, I had stayed late at the hospital to finish up paperwork and see one last patient. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above me, the sterile scent of antiseptic still lingering in the air. It was already well past midnight when I finally locked the hospital doors behind me and stepped into the rain-soaked streets of Lekki.
The night felt heavy. The kind of rain that poured as though the sky was weeping, drowning the world in a soft, endless mist. My shoes splashed through the puddles as I trudged down the narrow alley, my coat soaked through and my breath escaping in foggy clouds into the cold air. The city was eerily quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of wet leaves in the gutters. My mind was numb from exhaustion, every step feeling heavier than the last.
I didn't hear the footsteps behind me until it was too late.
Three of them. Hooded, fast.
They moved as one, the silence broken only by the faint shuffle of their shoes on wet pavement. I barely registered the glint of metal before pain exploded in my side. A flash of silver. A sharp, searing sting that cut through the fabric of my coat and into my flesh. I dropped to my knees, gasping for breath, blood spilling from my wound and mixing with the water in the puddles. I could feel the warmth of it spreading, sluggishly pooling beneath me, and my vision started to blur.
I looked up, the city's dim streetlights above me becoming nothing more than distant halos. The rain continued to fall, as steady as the pulse in my ears. My body refused to move, the weight of my own blood draining me of strength. I couldn't see them clearly—only their silhouettes, the cold indifference in their movements. The one who had struck me stood over me, watching, but there was no emotion on their face, no remorse. Just coldness.
I tried to speak, to ask why, but the words never came. Instead, I whispered into the dark sky, my voice weak, barely audible.
"This can't be how it ends..."
But darkness took me then. It swallowed everything, and in an instant, I was gone.
---
When I opened my eyes again, there was no alley, no blood, no pain.
Just silence.
A silence so profound that it felt like an entire universe stretched out in every direction—vast, infinite, and completely still. I couldn't feel my body, but I was somehow aware of it, floating in an ocean of calm. My thoughts seemed distant, muffled by the sheer serenity around me. The air was crisp, yet warm, as if it existed in some place beyond physical touch. I was weightless, suspended between realms, unable to grasp anything tangible.
Before I could even begin to make sense of what was happening, a soft, golden light appeared before me. It shimmered and swirled like sunlight breaking through a dense fog, its radiance gentle, but undeniable. The light slowly took shape, forming into a figure, tall and regal, cloaked in robes that seemed to shift and flow like clouds in the wind. The figure's face was hidden, bathed in a light so bright that it hurt to look directly at it.
"Joshua Kevwe," the figure spoke, its voice like the sound of a thousand storms—deep and resonant, but not unkind. It echoed through the space, filling the silence with its commanding presence. "Your life has ended."
I didn't know what to say. What could I say?
I was too stunned, too confused to form a coherent thought. The reality of it all felt like a dream, surreal and impossible.
The figure continued, its voice softer now, yet still carrying that unearthly weight. "You lived a life of service. You sought no glory. No riches. Only peace. But now, your journey is over."
I remained silent, unable to respond. All I could do was listen.
"Now, you have a choice," the figure continued. "You may pass on, fade into nothingness… or you may begin again. In another world."
A world. The words caught my attention. I blinked, struggling to process the idea. "Another world?"
"Yes," the figure confirmed. "A world of magic, swords, beasts, and wonders. A world unlike your own."
I couldn't believe it. "Why me?"
The figure's form seemed to tilt its head, as if pondering the question. "Because you asked for nothing in return. You simply lived. In a world so full of greed, that is rare."
I chuckled weakly. "So… you're saying I get to live again?"
The figure nodded. "You will be reborn. But your memories of Earth, of your past life, will be sealed. You will start anew, as a child, unaware of who you were. Only the essence of who you are will remain."
A child? I wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or apprehensive. "If I choose this… can I live a peaceful life?"
The figure's presence seemed to soften, its light growing warmer. "That depends on the world… and on the choices you make within it."
A sigh escaped my lips. "That's all I want. A peaceful life."
The figure gave a final nod. "Very well. Then may your soul find rest... until it awakens again."
---
Warmth.
Softness.
Voices.
Crying.
Wait—that was me. I was crying.
A sharp cold had wrapped around me, pulling me from the stillness. I could hear the sound of my own wails, strong and relentless, but the world around me was hazy, a blur of light and shapes. The air smelled of something sweet, like flowers, and something else—earthy, like freshly turned soil. But my eyes didn't open, not at first. I could only feel the pull of something unknown, the urgency of my discomfort.
Then, a voice reached me. A woman's voice. Kind, soothing.
"Oh, my little star… don't cry now."
Her words were a balm to my frightened soul. I felt her arms around me, warm and gentle, cradling me close. Her heartbeat was slow, steady—a sound that anchored me in the confusion of this new world. I could feel her fingers stroking my face, soft and delicate, and for a moment, I was calm.
"Elijah," she whispered, her voice filled with love. "That's your name, little one. Elijah Kevrin."
Elijah.
That name. Was it mine? It felt familiar, but foreign at the same time. My cries slowed, a faint whimper escaping my lips as I tried to make sense of it all.
Then, another voice cut through the air.
"Still crying, huh? Alright, alright, time for Papa's secret move."
The voice was male, warm with laughter and affection. Footsteps approached, followed by the sound of something small—a flicker of magic. The air crackled with energy.
"Look at this," the man said, his tone proud and playful. "First time using the Glow Spark spell since I was in training, and it still works!"
I felt something shift in the air above me—tiny sparks of light, shimmering like fireflies, floating and twirling in the space around me. They changed color, each spark a different shade—blue, gold, red—dancing through the air in a gentle display of magic.
My crying faltered, a giggle slipping from my lips as my tiny hands reached out toward the lights. My eyes followed their every movement, captivated by their beauty, by their wonder.
The man laughed, his voice rich with amusement. "See?" he said to the woman. "Told you he'd love it."
The woman's laugh followed, soft and melodic. "You're such a show-off, Eran."
The man, Eran, leaned down, his face coming into view, a crooked grin spreading across his features. He had kind eyes, tired but warm. He touched my cheek with gentle fingers, as if to reassure me. "Anything for my boy."
I didn't know it then, but that was the first moment I smiled in this new life.
Not because I remembered who I was or where I had come from.
But because, in that moment, I felt safe.
---
That was the day my new life began.
As Elijah Kevrin, son of a mage and a healer.
In a world of magic and mystery.
And though I had no memory of my past, deep inside, I knew one thing for sure: my journey was far from over.