Aldin opened his eyes to a small room radiating rustic simplicity.
Rough-hewn timber walls and a low, beamed ceiling spoke of a medieval cottage, imbued with a timeless European sensibility. He lay on a stark wooden bed, its design purely functional, devoid of ornamentation.
A modest table and single chair stood vigil beside him.
Through a small window, the delicate white blossoms of a jasmine-like tree dusted the ground below. Directly opposite the bed, a full-length mirror hung on the wall.
Aldin noted two critical details: the view suggested an upper floor, and the honey-toned wooden floorboards glowed warmly where sunlight streamed through the glass. A deep, instinctive certainty settled over him: this was no longer Earth, modern or otherwise.
The door creaked open. A beautiful petite girl, perhaps seven or eight years old with cornflower-blue eyes and wheat-gold hair, peered inside. She wore a simple brown tunic. Her eyes widened upon seeing him conscious.
Without a word, she vanished, her voice echoing up the stairs: "Dad! The boy's awake! Come quick!"
Aldin understood her perfectly, though the language was unfamiliar. Her relief was palpable, but one word pierced his awareness like an arrow: Boy?
He pushed himself upright, intending to march to the mirror. Instead, his legs – disturbingly short and weak – buckled. He landed hard on his back, the breath knocked from his lungs.
Since when are my legs this short ?
A wave of wrongness washed over him. His limbs felt truncated, alien , he tried again, shuffling towards the mirror with the unsteady gait of a fawn, profoundly uncomfortable in this unfamiliar form.
Finally, he stood before the glass. The reflection stole the color from his face.
Staring back was a child of perhaps five or six. An oval face, still softened by baby fat, framed by messy black hair. Milky skin, clear and smooth. Lean, but healthy. Eyes like polished obsidian. It was a face beautiful enough for a painting.
Yet, the horror wasn't in its beauty.
Itwas the face of his own childhood.
A cold tremor ran through his tiny frame. His voice, when it finally came, was a high-pitched whisper choked with disbelief:
"What the... why am I suddenly in my childhood body?!"