As Veythor looked down at the water, his own reflection wavered on its surface, blurred by the rippling current. This time, fate had cast him into the body of a good-looking youth... something utterly unexpected. In his first life he had been ugly, in the second merely average, but now… it was different. Almost cruelly so.
A dull ache pulsed in his shoulder, reminding him of pain even in this moment of stillness. Yet everything else seemed peaceful... almost dreamlike. The chirping of birds, the steady roar of the waterfall, the silence unbroken by human voices. No chaos. No pursuit.
If only time could stop here… if only I could see this scene again and again without ever growing weary.
The thought drew a faint chuckle from his lips. dry, hollow and mocking. As though he were laughing at his own foolishness for daring to wish for peace.
