Eight months passed since Ezra's rebirth.
since then he has managed to at least learn a few words, that means mean he can understand most of what his parents are saying, from listening in he learnt that the family he was born into is the equivalent of a lower-middle class family and that his father is a hunter while his mother was a teacher at the local school before she gave birth to him.
Thinking about his life since he got here Ezra found it to be quite peaceful and relaxing, cause during the later years of his past life Ezra was just too busy to even date always swamped with meetings, new theories inventions and more problems needing his attention.
Looking outside through the window from the bed he was placed on Ezra saw a yellowish star that reminded him of earth's sun though it was a little different he didn't know why he thought so he just felt it.
The Hearthstone cottage changed with the seasons snow gave way to more snow then rain, then blinding heat and some really beautiful flowers stretched across the hill close to their house again, which made Ezra feel Nostalgic for some reason.
Ezra had grown, his once-tiny limbs now stronger, his cries louder and more demanding, though his parents found it cute and infuriating at the same time. He could crawl now, a determined little explorer trailing behind Roana wherever she went, sometimes pulling himself up by the edge of a chair only to tumble down again with a frustrated huff.
Roana's laughter filled the house when he did. "You're getting too bold," she'd say though to Ezra, it was still only music. The words slid past his mind like notes of a song.
Sometimes, he'd sit by the fire, hands clutching a carved wooden toy Bram had made for him, a little stag. He'd stare into the flames, thoughts flickering behind his innocent eyes. Eight months of this new life, and still his memories hadn't faded. He remembered the way steel smelled before it struck, the hum of circuitry, the ringing of the golden bell. But all of that felt distant now, like something he'd dreamed long ago.
Here, in this warm cottage, the world moved at a gentler pace.
Perfect — here's the continuation, keeping the same tone: grounded, emotional, and reflective, without shifting into overt magic yet.
Eight months had made the Hearthstone cottage livelier. The once quiet days were now filled with laughter, soft chatter, and the occasional crash of a cup when Ezra decided that gravity was a fascinating thing to test.
Roana had grown used to moving with one ear always tuned to his babbling. Sometimes, she'd hum to him while folding laundry, her soft voice drifting through the house like sunlight through curtains. "Ezra, my little troublemaker," she'd coo whenever he managed to crawl under the table or pull at her skirt.
He didn't understand all the words, but the loving tone always made him still. It was strange, how comfort could feel foreign and familiar all at once.
Bram, when he wasn't out hunting, would carve toys by the fire in the evenings. His large, calloused hands looked rough against the delicate wood figures he made. Each was shaped with surprising care birds, foxes, and once, a little bear. He'd place them in Ezra's lap and watch his son's curious eyes study every edge and groove.
"See this one?" Bram said once, holding up a small hawk carved from pine. "Fastest thing in the sky. Maybe you'll be like that, eh?"
Ezra had blinked up at him, tiny fingers brushing the smooth surface. He couldn't answer, but his gaze lingered, as though he understood more than he should. Bram had chuckled at that. "Sharp eyes already."
At night, Roana would rock him to sleep while Bram mended his tools or sharpened his hunting knives by the door. The rhythm of the whetstone, the steady heartbeat against Roana's chest, the warmth of the fire—it all blended into something Ezra had never known before: peace that didn't demand productivity.
Still, there were moments quiet, fleeting when he felt a hollow ache in his chest. It wasn't sadness, not exactly. More like his old life tugging at the edges of his mind, whispering of circuits, numbers, the sharp sting of betrayal. He didn't want to remember, but memory had a way of slipping through, uninvited.
He found himself drawn to patterns the he noticed how the grain of the wood curved, how the flicker of the fire repeated itself every few seconds. Once, he'd traced those lines with his finger, almost unconsciously forming a symbol he couldn't quite recall.
Roana had seen and laughed softly. "Already thinking too much, are you?" she teased, brushing his curls away from his forehead.
Ezra had only stared at her, mind quieting again. He didn't know what he was supposed to be in this new life but for now, her laughter felt like enough.
Outside, spring hummed through the valley. The river thawed, the air smelled of wet earth and pine, and the hills shimmered green once more.
For the first time, Ezra didn't think of the world he'd left behind.
He simply… existed.
And maybe, for a while, that was exactly what he needed