"Survive the void," he heard someone say.
The voice sounded like echoing in an empty room.
Void?
"And return to fulfill your duties." Voice echoed again.
Return where?
And my duties—what are they? I only remembered a name.
Edrin.
But who is he? I can't remember.
He opened his eyes and found himself floating. There was nothing but darkness around him, as if it had swallowed him whole. A never-ending night with no stars.
Then he saw one—but it was far away.
How would I reach it?
My head hurt, where am I?
He couldn't remember his name.
Who am I?
"Caelan. It's time to wake up. Now." He heard someone. The voice was so soothing, like divine honey dripping.
"WAKE UP, DAMMIT!"
He jolted awake, and got pulled toward that star as if something had gripped his body and taking him to star.
But then something happened, he doesn't remember what. He just felt like losing his consciousness after that.
...
He opened his eyes just to see a fist coming towards and instincts kicked in. He turned to his right and deflected the attack, and with a swift motion punched his attacker.
There was a long silence. He rubbed his eyes to see carefully and then he saw—a kid on the ground.
Did I just punched a kid? Oh god no. He thought regretting.
The kid was around ten years old and had red hairs. He remembered someone with that hair color. Even his face felt familiar. But didn't know who.
"Ah—kid you okay? " he stepped forward and gave his hand for kid to take. But instead the kid just glared at him and got up by his own.
He noticed something different but didn't realized what it was.
"YOU DARE TO HIT ME? You bastard." His nose flared as he continued, "Did you forget your place, huh, worm?" He pushed Caelan back.
His nose was bleeding from the punch.
"You are only supposed to crawl on the ground," he whispered near his face, close enough for him to see this kid's cavities.
Well, this kid doesn't brush.
But wait a minute—why is he taller than me?
He saw boy's knees bend forward. Then he saw his hand. Small, like a child's.
Then the realization hit him—he had somehow become a child.
He looked around. They were in some training ground. Kids the same height as the red-haired one stood near them in a circle, watching with wide eyes. Some were laughing, mocking someone.
Then he felt someone hit his head from behind. He fell hard on ground on stomach, hand on back of his head,losing consciousness.
…
He opened his eyes for the third time and prayed to God to never throw him into a shit situation like that again.
He saw the ceiling, with some paintings drawn on it. They were beautiful. Like, really beautiful as if they will niw become reality—of warriors, knights fighting and showing their bravery.
He noticed his surroundings, and it was a very elite room—maybe it belonged to royalty or a rich merchant.
His checked his hands. Still small—still soft, like they had never held a sword.
The door opened and a woman stepped in.
She was dressed in simple clothes that were too neat to be common. The quality of her clothes were good—like richie rich good.
She froze the moment she saw his eyes opened.
"You're awake," relief flashing across her face."thank the gods"
She came closed and placed a hand on his forehead, cool and practiced." I told you not to provoke him."
He tried to sat up, felt his head throbbing. but she stopped him by putting hand on his chest, pushing back on bed. "Don't move yet. Blow was serious and you bleed out a lot."
"Who are you?" He asked, hearing his voice—high-pitched.
I am definitely a child.
"Oh—maybe it's because of the blow. I am Sasha, your personal maid," she answered, smiling.
"And who am I?" He tried to find the new body's identity.
"You are Zeron Solare, second son of Sir Warren Solare. Your father is the personal knight of His Majesty," she said, smiling like she hadn't just messed up his mind.
"You mean—Warren, supposed Bravery symbol of Empire? " he tried to confirm.
She nodded.
That red-haired bastard is the father of this kid.
The door opened and the person they were talking about walked in.
The room seemed to shrink as he stepped inside, tall and broad-shouldered. His presence heavy and suffocating.
His red hair was tied back neatly, his expression carved from stone. He didn't rush to his side.
Well who pissed in his tea this morning making him so mad.
But he was mad about something , Caelan just knew it.
His eyes swept over Caelan—once, then shifted to Sasha and then to the window.
"So," he said, voice flat. "He woke up."
"Yes, master," she continued standing with her hand in front. "Young master's injury was-"
"That's enough. " He raised his hand, cutting her off without even looking at her.
Her face suddenly dropped.
His gaze returned to him, sharp and distant. Not concern. Not relief. Just disappointment.
"You embarrassed yourself," he said. "In front of everyone."
"If you're going to carry my name," he continued, turning away, "at least learn not to disgrace it."
Then he left, the door closing behind him like a verdict.
Sasha sighed, still looking at closed doors.