Silence.
My eyes opened… but there was no light.
No shapes, no shadows.
Only a darkness so deep it swallowed even thought.
I tried to move.
Nothing.
No weight of a body, no touch of any surface.
It was as if I didn't exist.
Then I realized—
I was falling.
Not like a short drop, with wind and ground waiting below…
This was a slow, endless plunge, as if something unseen was pulling me down. Always down.
Time dissolved.
It could have been seconds… or centuries.
That's when I heard it.
Whispers.
No— a chorus.
Voices speaking together, woven into a language I couldn't understand.
They weren't harsh or threatening.
They were… joyful.
The sound wrapped around me, as if each voice came from a different point yet also from within me.
And then I felt it.
A soft touch.
Like arms made of sound, holding me in a tender embrace.
There was no warmth, no cold— only a sense of belonging.
I stayed there, suspended in that strange affection, without fear.
But slowly, the voices began to drift away.
The chorus dissolved into distant murmurs…
until silence returned.
Darkness.
But not the same as before—this one had weight, had sound.
A muffled, deep, steady sound.
Thump… thump…
Like a heartbeat, slow and firm, coming from everywhere at once.
The air was thick.
I was trapped… but safe.
My body began to move, pushed by something.
Slowly at first.
Then faster.
The sound grew stronger.
Thumpthumpthumpthump…
Pressure.
Squeezes.
Soft walls closing in, guiding me forward.
The sound changed.
Now there were pops, vibrations, a chaotic rhythm tangled with the heartbeat.
And then—
A crack.
Cold.
Flickers of light flashing against my closed eyes.
The world pushed one last time.
And I broke through.
Cries—not mine, but distant voices.
The sound of hurried footsteps.
Fabric rustling.
New air burning my lungs in my first breath.
Light.
Clear.
Blinding.
"Congratulations, ma'am! It's a boy!" said the midwife, smiling tiredly as she held the baby in her arms.
A sharp wail filled the small room, blending with the faint whistle of wind against the window.
The father, seated beside the bed, let out a long, steady sigh.
"You were amazing," he said, touching his wife's hand. His voice was calm, steady—almost like a harbor.
The mother, sweaty and exhausted but with a spark in her eyes, smiled between short breaths.
"I… I want to see him."
The midwife stepped closer, but as she looked down at the baby, her smile faltered. The color drained from her face for an instant.
The mother noticed.
"Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice weaker now, but laced with worry.
The midwife hesitated, biting her lip.
"I… don't know how to say this, ma'am…"
The father straightened, locking his gaze on her.
"Say it."
"I think… your son is blind."
Silence filled the room.
Confused, the parents exchanged a glance, until the mother extended her arms.
"Give him to me."
The midwife placed the baby in her embrace.
He was a boy with hair black as onyx, pale skin, and delicate features—a beautiful child.
But his eyes… gray, deep, and opaque. No reflection. No light at all.
The father ran a hand over his forehead, trying to process.
The mother, though worry weighed on her chest, pulled the baby closer.
When I was lifted, I didn't understand what was happening.
A humanoid shape held me effortlessly, as if I had no weight at all.
Joyful sounds echoed around me, soft voices blending into a strange melody.
My eyes—or what I thought were my eyes—searched for meaning in the shapes I saw.
Two other humanoid forms stood ahead.
One lay down, half-covered by something.
The other stood, holding what seemed to be the first one's hand.
I tried to make sense of it. Nothing fit. The forms moved, the sounds repeated, but there was no clear meaning.
The figure holding me leaned closer to look at me. Its face was a blur of light and shadow, impossible to define. It spoke toward the couple—words that, to me, were only patterned noises.
Then I was handed to the one lying down.
The moment I was cradled, something shifted. Warmth rose from my chest, spreading slowly.
It started where what I assumed was her hand touched my face.
Warm, soft… and strangely comforting.
For a moment, the strangeness of this new world faded, and all that remained was that warmth.
The father adjusted the blanket over the still-weakened mother, her arms wrapped around the baby.
He looked into the child's gray, opaque eyes, drew in a deep breath, and spoke quietly:
"He's our son… and we'll raise him with all the love we can give."
The mother smiled, tired but sincere.
"No matter what… he'll always be loved."
The door opened slowly. Two children stepped into the room.
The first, a light-brown-haired girl of about six, took a shy step inside.
Beside her, a taller teenage boy remained silent.
"Is he okay? Can I see the baby?" the girl asked, her eyes bright.
The boy walked forward a few steps, silently, his gaze fixed on the makeshift cradle by the bed.
"Come here," the mother called, waving with her free hand.
The girl ran over, leaning on the edge of the bed to peek at the baby.
"He's so cute!" she said, giggling softly.
The teenager stepped closer, standing beside his sister. His eyes rested on the newborn's face… and then on his eyes. For a moment, his brow furrowed, as if he'd noticed something the others hadn't.
The black-haired teen kept his gaze locked on the parents for a few seconds, as if seeking confirmation. Then, finally, he asked quietly:
"He…?"
The mother met his eyes, knowing exactly where the question was headed. Her expression softened, but her tone was calm as she answered:
"We don't know yet."
The girl looked between them, confused. She didn't understand what the older ones were talking about—and to her, it didn't matter. She kept gently stroking the baby's head, smiling as if nothing else in the world existed.
—
In the room, inside a white cradle, lay a black-haired baby.
My fingers moved through the air, trying to grasp something invisible. The distant sound of wind through the window mixed with the faint creak of wood.
I'd been thinking about it for a while now… but I really had been reborn, hadn't I?
"Ugh… it sounds so ridiculous when I put it that way."
"But there's no other explanation. I died… and now I'm here, in… I don't even know where."
"A blind baby… great."
"Well… not completely blind. I can see blurry shapes, and the light—coming, I think, from the sun through the window—looks washed out in my vision… and people… well, I don't see their faces, just human shapes. But I can tell them apart."
Creak…
The door opened slowly, letting in a stronger beam of light that warmed my face.
Tap… tap… tap… Soft footsteps approached, along with the sound of tired breathing.
"Well… that's my mother now. I know it from the tenderness she carries with her."
I felt a warm touch on my cheek—soft, delicate—as if she wanted to shield me from the whole world.
Tap… tap…
Right behind, lighter, hurried steps broke the silence. The air around her was vibrant, almost bouncing.
"This smaller shape is my sister… or so I think. She radiates joy, love… and mischief."
Her small, warm fingers ruffled my hair lightly, and I caught a faint sweet scent… maybe fruit.
Thud…
At the doorway, firm, heavy steps echoed toward the cradle.
"That's my father. His presence is steady as stone, but there's care in his touch, too."
His hand was rougher, but sure. When it rested on my chest, the warmth grew, along with a strange calm.
Silence.
In the corner of the room, a still presence. Almost no sound, but its attention was fixed on me.
"And that… I assume, is my older brother. He's… how do I put it? Very quiet. Every time I look his way, it's the same. Like a still lake, without ripples or complaint. Not that he's emotionless… but it's as if he's already grown enough to carry a burden that's always been his."
Around the cradle, my mother and sister played with me, their laughter filling the air with a gentle warmth.
Tap… tap… Tiny touches on my hand, soft tugs at my hair.
Across from them, my mother looked toward the teenager standing near the wall.
"Is he alright?" she asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and faint concern.
The boy kept his gaze on me for a few seconds. His silence was so dense it could almost be heard. Then he answered, straight and certain:
"He is. As long as I'm here… not even a mana beast will get within a step of him."
Those words weren't just a promise—they were a verdict, cold and certain, like steel hammered in the silence of a forge.
The mother smiled with pride at her eldest son's words. The warmth of that vow seemed to fill the room, firm and unbreakable.
She turned to her husband.
"We should hurry… or we'll be late for the meeting with the lesser nobles."
The man nodded in his usual calm way and stepped closer to the cradle. He ran a gentle hand over the baby's head, as if it were his silent goodbye before leaving.
Tap… tap… His heavy footsteps echoed on the wooden floor as he headed for the door.
The girl, reluctant, let go of her baby brother's hand and ran to catch up with her mother.
The teenager remained for another moment, still watching Tyler, before finally following them, closing the door softly behind him with a quiet click.
The room fell silent.