Towards the beginning of light

I woke in an infant cage — a rectangular prison made of wood. My fourth day stuck in this infantile form was a new kind of torture for me. The place I was born in, as far as I'd observed, seemed to be a medieval-era world. There was no electricity, no proper buildings, not even paved roads. Our house was mostly built of cobblestones and wood. The kitchen had a circular wooden table at its center. A staircase led up to my parents' room, and the room on the left was my father's study — or at least, that's what I assumed.

So far, my mother — Alice Aelwyn — and father, Renal Aelwyn, had been taking great care of me. Especially my mother. She was kindhearted and warm. I'd never met anyone quite like her. She constantly kept an eye on me with a calm, protective motherly love that made me feel safe.

It was shameful to admit... but I had zero control over my waste or any other bodily function. I also came to realize that my head felt significantly heavier than the rest of my body.

Though my father had an annoyingly energetic personality, I could understand why someone like my loving mother was drawn to him. He was charming, charismatic, and always wore a gentle smile. He frequently got his ass whooped for trying to sneak me out of the house without her knowledge. He'd strap me to his chest with a soft cloth and silently tiptoe toward the front door — but thanks to my mother's sharp instincts, we never made it past the house boundary.

I stared at him in disappointment. Enjoying his company, in my opinion, was a waste of precious time I could've spent with my mother. He also seemed to have a few screws loose, because somehow... he interpreted my glares as excitement.

After getting a hard knock to the head, he'd dramatically clutch it and wipe away his fake tears. "Darling, you always take care of Kael! I hardly get any time with him! See? My precious son also wants to be with Daddy. Right? Kael?" He emphasized the Right like he expected me to deliver a speech.

I didn't know what he expected from an infant—to articulate a full one-syllable word, he just stared at me like he was internally screaming for me to say 'yes'

I turned my head toward my mother... and went back to sleep.

_______________

Two weeks had passed since my journey began, and I'd started to pick up new details about my surroundings.

My father owned a blacksmith's shop in this town—It was more of a village, at least from a rational perspective—especially that of a former ruler. My mother would carry me on her back with a baby wrap. We'd walk along the dusty pathway toward the shop, which was located just off the town. My father spent most of his time there, surrounded by fire and various tools swords, armor, and other strange equipment swords! shining!.

I attempted reaching out for the shiny sword nearby. My tiny hands lacked the strength to lift it, but that didn't stop me from trying… until my mother walked off toward Father.

Damn... I was about to reach it.

A man worked at the shop alongside Father. He had a red beard to match his hair, dark brown eyes wrinkled at the edges, and stood barely a few feet tall. He seemed just as free-spirited — and insane — as my father.

He instantly burst into laughter and called out to me; "Hey, lil fella! What's up with yua?"

__________________

In my former life, I was a king — ruler of the largest country in my old world. I only knew how to lead through power. Enemies were nothing more than stepping stones on my path to conquering every continent. In strength, I was second to none. But… I wasn't perfect. I lacked political finesse. That gap was filled by brute force—and by those who wielded diplomacy where I could not. They handled disputes, secured my rule, and kept the my own people loyal while I focused solely on conquest.

I can crawl!

In my entire existence, I couldn't remember a single moment where I'd felt as proud of myself as I did now. Being able to move — it was such a glorious achievement. But I still hadn't mastered it. My infant body refused to coordinate the way I expected them to.

Damn this infant form.

One day during my crawling sessions, thanks to my infant limbs, I had an uncoordinated scuffle—I bumped into the wall and toppled, scratching my cheeks against it on the way down.

My mother spotted me lying on my belly, struggling to roll onto my back, like a turtle flipped upside down. Her soft hands gently lifted me from under my tiny arms. I began to squirm uncomfortably, with the sudden movement.

I hung midair, unable to move, feeling utterly helpless as my mother gazed at me, her lips twitching slightly. Then she pulled me into a tight hug, squeezing me. "Aww, my cute little boy. Are you hurt?" she cooed.

I was being suffocated by my mother's love.

Cradling me in her left arm, my mother raised her right hand. A faint green glow pulsed from her palm. As she lowered it above my head, a soft warmth spread through me.

Healing magic?

I'd expected a kiss on the forehead — instead, my mother healed me with shiny magic. It sparked something in me. A desire to understand more about this world. During my first week devoted to learning, I'd pretend to be asleep in my mother's lap while secretly listening to their conversations. They chatted about all sorts of things — mostly about how cute I was. But every now and then, they'd slip up and say something interesting, I couldn't help but raise a brow at—strange place names, unfamiliar people… and magic. The kind that goes 'boom.'

I had spent weeks practicing just to crawl properly. After my little accident, my parents began watching over me even more closely during those sessions. They'd sit nearby, intently observing every wiggle and flop, gently redirecting me whenever I wandered off—toward the wall… or the stairs. Once I finally got the hang of it, they'd follow me around the house with anxious eyes, probably worried I'd trip and injure myself again.

My father had brought home a small creature — what he called a cat. To me, it looked more like a round, fluffy ball with soft white fur, tiny paws barely visible beneath it, faintly glowing blue eyes and a strange star-shaped mark on its forehead. It didn't take long for my mother to name it Fluf. Strangely, the moment I saw Fluf, I felt something... off. It didn't bother me much at the time — I figured it was just my infant brain reacting to an overly cute ball of fur.

As an infant, my attention span was that of a mayfly. So, before starting her usual chores, my mother placed Fluf beside me to keep me company. The moment our eyes met, I couldn't stop myself—the overwhelming urge to squeeze him tightly.

It didn't take long for my mother to decide that staying indoors all day would "stunt my spirit."

Whatever that meant.

Bundled tightly in a soft cloth wrap, I found myself strapped to her chest like cargo. Her warmth pressed against me, and with every step she took, I swayed gently.

"We'll just stop by the market, Kaelen," she whispered sweetly. "Fresh bread, and some herbs."

The town was quaint and bustling — dirt paths, wooden stalls, merchants shouting over one another, and barefoot children weaving through the crowd. Crystals displayed on merchant stands sparkled under the sun, catching my attention for a brief moment. But something far more interesting stole my focus: magic — performed right there on the dirt path. I stared without blinking... until my mother resumed walking.

People here lived vibrant lives.

Many stopped to coo at me, and my mother would just smile and thank them, occasionally patting my back to comfort me.

I didn't like being treated like a potato.