The wooden cot creaked softly as Orion shifted, small fingers resting on his round stomach. The thing felt more like a prison than a bed - its wooden bars tall and unyielding, enclosing him like the solitary cell he'd spent the week before his death within.
He had tried countless times to escape, of course, crawling, climbing, even gnawing once in frustration. But he was one year old now, and for all his past-life experience, this tiny body had its limits.
Still, a whole year. It had passed quicker than he ever expected, mostly in a haze of sleep, milk, and incomprehensible babbling. Being a baby was… weird. Not bad, exactly, just weird.
His mind was sharper than the woman who called herself his mother, yet he couldn't even hold a spoon without trembling. But if there was one thing humans were good at, it was adapting.
Orion had done that before, living as a wolf in sheep's clothing.
He could and would do it again.
'New world, new life. Might as well make the most of it.'
And so far, it was much more interesting than he could have hoped for.
Sometimes, when the room grew still, and the light filtered through the frosted window, he could see… things. Wisps of light that drifted lazily through the air, shimmering faintly like dust motes in a sunbeam. Except they weren't dust. They pulsed - alive, vibrant, and strange.
It reminded him of those moments before passing out, when the world tilted and sparks filled your vision. Except this wasn't dizziness. This was everywhere around him.
No one else seemed to notice. Marn, the old nurse, went about her duties without a glance, and his mother's eyes, pale and distant, never reflected the same golden haze that sometimes danced before his.
He could only see the flickers of light when he focused deeply. And since no one else seemed to notice or at least acknowledge them, he quietly observed them.
This night, however, was different...
While everyone else slept, Orion lay on his back in his cot, watching the pale moonlight spill across the cold wooden floor. The world outside was still, silent, save for the distant howling of mountain winds.
He turned his head slightly, eyes fixed on the windowpane, a habit he'd grown fond of - staring blankly at the horizon and wondering what kind of world lay beyond the confines of this tiny room. Orion also couldn't help but reminisce about his past life, though there were few fond memories.
Then, as usual, he could start to see those floating wisps of light around him. It was starting to become more frequent recently.
But this time felt different...
There was a sudden, searing heat in his eyes.
It started as a dull throb, then flared into pain so sharp he almost screamed. His small hands gripped the sheets, knuckles whitening as his body tensed.
Unbeknownst to him, his once-black eyes had once again turned molten gold, glowing in the moonlight like twin suns. The air around his cot trembled. Invisible currents swirled, drawn toward him in a spiralling pull.
Ether, raw and untamed, rushed into him as if summoned by instinct.
'What the fuck?! What's happening?! Is this ether?!'
The energy poured through his eyes like liquid fire. His infant body trembled violently, every muscle locking up as he gasped for breath. It wasn't just pain - it was pressure, a crushing tide tearing through him.
Inside his small frame, something shifted. Hidden pathways, faint and fragile, tore open. He could feel them, threads running through his veins, glowing faintly as the ether forced its way in.
His body wasn't ready - it wasn't supposed to be able to handle this.
The heat burned, blistered, and seared through him. He could feel his tiny chest struggling to rise. Every instinct screamed to stop, to make it end, but he couldn't.
His eyes wouldn't stop drawing it in as if they had a mind of their own.
'No. Not like this. I wasn't reborn in this world just to die as a baby. What was the past year of humiliation for?!'
His jaw clenched - three uneven teeth grinding together as he fought through the pain. Tears welled unbidden, streaming down his cheeks as his small body writhed. His vision flickered, half-blind with light, and yet through the agony, he forced himself to think.
'If my eyes are pulling it in… maybe I can control it.'
He focused. Hard. His breathing hitched, shallow and ragged. Slowly, painstakingly, he turned his awareness inward. The ether surged wildly within his body, but he tried to subdue it, to shape the torrent into something coherent.
And unbelievably, he succeeded in somewhat guiding the energy through instinct and sheer desperation, circling it around his body, which reduced the strain.
But what was he supposed to do now...?
'That's it!'
He remembered faint glimmers - Marn's chest faintly red when she came near him, the faint glow that pulsed the times he had seen her wield what he assumed was Ether. Maybe that was where it was stored.
As such, he tried to direct it there - to his chest.
It wasn't like he had much choice, and if he didn't act soon, he felt like his body would literally explode.
The energy responded, reluctantly at first, then with sudden force, converging toward his heart. It was chaos. Agonising, suffocating chaos. But something began to form there, a condensed point of light - a small, spinning sphere of molten energy that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
An ether core. Primitive, unstable, but real.
It had a faint crimson hue and hummed internally, spreading warmth within him.
Then there was silence.
The pull stopped. His body slackened. The golden light in his eyes dimmed. He lay there, chest rising and falling, his breathing shallow but steady. Relief washed through him, weak and trembling.
But it didn't last long.
A sharp, nauseating stench filled his nose. His stomach turned instantly. He looked down - or rather, felt it. His skin was slick, sticky. The smell was revolting, thick and acrid, worse than anything he'd encountered in his past life.
Dark sludge clung to his skin, seeping through the sheets. It wasn't blood. It wasn't faeces. It was something else - like his body had expelled everything impure inside it all at once.
His tiny face scrunched up. 'Oh, for fuck's sake.'
The infant's instincts hit before he could stop it. His chest tightened, breath hitched, and moments later, he burst into loud, uncontrollable sobs. His cries echoed through the room, raw and piercing.
The door slammed open.
Marn stumbled in, bleary-eyed, clutching a lantern. Her eyes went wide when she saw him - glowing remnants still faint in his irises, the stench, the blackened filth coating the cot.
By the time her shock broke into action, Orion was still crying, half in pain, half in sheer frustration. He couldn't explain nor hide it. All he could do was lie there, trembling, his little hands clenched tight as the old nurse gasped in horror.
And for the first time since his rebirth, Orion realised - whatever path this world had in store for him, it had already begun...