Maximilian tried to move, to run, to scream, to even just flail his arms. He could now tell his body was never unresponsive, but there was simply not enough strength in his tiny frame to overcome the tight swaddling of the blanket bundled around him. All he could do was listen helplessly as the men debated his fate. Urgency began to overwhelm his reservations about the reality of this world. He lay on the cold, unforgiving stone of an altar, unable to discern whether this strange world was a fever dream or his new reality. Panic threatened to choke him, but he forced himself to focus on the present moment, to quell the roiling storm within.

The second man, the one who had expressed worry about the safety of the faeling, spoke up again. "Your holiness, forgive me, but I cannot simply cut the infant's life short. My duty is to the Laurelfete family and I will defend the natural cycle to that end if I must; if there has been a mistake however, if this [Human] has a destiny that I interfered with at your behest, the law states it is for a [Warden] to decide how to correct it."

Voice dripping with condescension and derision, the priest tutted dismissively. "Oh, dear Streamweaver, I fear that your worry betrays your lack of understanding of the grand design. This insignificant [Human] child will succumb to its inevitable fate soon enough; so you are wise to acknowledge that there is no need to hasten what has already been determined."

He sneered at Streamweaver with a sense of superiority so powerful it could only have come from divine mandate. "My voice, so pure and vibrant, is a blessing from the gods that must be treasured. It's the very will of Mnemet coming alive through me. I must still my words to discern fate’s machinations, yet you prattled on in your foolishness without any regard for what I said. Close your mouth and let your mind open to my wisdom."

"Timekeeper, you cannot expect me simply stand idly by with such an ill portent looming; stop speaking in circles and tell me, is the faeling I left in the mortal realm well?" The man's voice trembled with a mixture of anxiety and frustration as he finally cut to the heart of the matter.

The priest raised his hands in a placating gesture as a man stepped forward into the flickering light of the grove. He was an imposing figure, tall and broad-shouldered with an air of immense strength emanating from him. With a shaved head Maximilian could clearly see long pointed ears, his dark skin was flawless despite looking as though he had been weathered by years of experience in grueling conditions. The long leather coat he wore rustled with every step he took and two swords hung at his sides- one made of bronze and the other’s translucence refracting the bewitching colors of the grove- as he stared intensely at Timekeeper.

Elves? I'm stuck in the middle of a pissing contest between elves? I feel like they have me suspended in some invisible limbo while I'm just listening to them debate my fate. Letting my time tick away while I wonder if I'm crazy, asleep, or if, as impossible as it seems, this is real. Could I really be so unlucky to be reincarnated and be just as unwanted and hopeless as my last life…

"Ah, so impatient for a mere guard and courier," Timekeeper remarked, his voice suddenly as sharp and smooth as the blood-red obsidian dagger that swung from his neck as the priest spun towards Maximilian. "It is but an infant, a mere mortal speck in our realm. Its deferred return to the cycle has naught to do with the one I granted the honor of becoming this month's [Changeling]. It will soon perish and if you cannot quiet your incessant fretting you could prevent me from discerning anything about what truly is causing this delay. Power is nothing unless it can be understood, claimed, and wielded with purpose."

The guard hesitated as he considered Timekeeper's uncharacteristic solemnity. Maximilian could feel sweat dripping down his neck in spite of the chill in the air, desperately searching for some way out of this precarious predicament. As if hearing his silent plea, the guard spoke up again.

"High Priest Timekeeper," he began cautiously. "I do not doubt our power is greater than the babe's but whether wielded or not the power is undeniable and unexpected. Instead of waiting aimlessly for this infant to die before we can properly assess what has happened, we must receive guidance and act accordingly. If you have no plan but to observe I will again insist we consult my mistress, and soon. It may yet perish at any moment."

Perish? I don't feel like I'm on the verge of death or anything…

Is he right, am I dying?

I think I may have to assume this is real, this all seems far too detailed and just, too solid I guess is what's most persuasive. If there is even an infinitesimal chance that I'm dying, shouldn't I care?

"Insist?," Timekeeper snorted, his tone flippant. "Your lady bowed to my authority and now I, and I alone, oversee the choosing and timing and exchanging of each and every [Changeling]. The Fae realm is no place for mortals. Their bodies cannot withstand the power that flows through our world. No matter the power fueling its lingering, this child's fate is sealed due to its lack of will. Unlike our kind a [Human] is born all but mindless; it might as well be deaf, blind, and mute for all the impact it can inflict upon the world."

"The child has power you cannot explain and still it lives, you are the blind one to assu-"

"Enough!" all traces of Timekeeper's lilting gaiety gone, his shout rang out like a thunderclap, silencing the guard. "We shall let fate take its course, as it always does. Now, leave me to my observations of the anomaly." The guard hesitated, wringing his hands in frustration, before stepping back with a scowl.

The High Priest's lip curled, amusement dancing in his cold eyes as he murmured to himself. "Oh yes, the anticipation is definitely my favorite part..."

NOPE

Screw that

If I close my eyes at least I don't hafta watch him watching me, what does he even think he's gonna see? Should I be acting more like a baby? I'm really struggling to take this seriously even if it's too risky to assume it's a dream... I really don't wanna figure out how to feign baby-ness. How am I supposed to survive like this? Even if I'm right and not in immediate danger from the mana density or poisonous air or whatever, it's not like I can take care of myself.

Stop that, one step at a time alright?

Take stock. I'm not the same Max.

You're thinking like a [Human]. If the system messages are true, I'm a [Changeling] now.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Some kind of magic is letting me understand them, maybe there's something else that can help me if I can just figure out how to interact with this system.

Both times the screens went away they seemed to be reacting to my thoughts in some way, I can try mental command words like - Skills? Inventory? Status? Profile? Character Sheet?

Yeah, nothing really seems to be happening. I'm sure I was able to make it go away before maybe if instead of words I just-

Maximilian

Changeling

Title

Attributes

Minor Traits

Specialty - (0/3)

Vitality - 1

Body - (1/15)

Major Trait - (0/3)

Finesse - 1

Mind - (2/15)

Major Trait - (0/3)

Endurance - 3

Soul - (1/15)

Major Trait - (0/3)

Will - 2

Mana - (0/15)

Major Trait - (0/3)

Anima - 1

Qi - (0/15)

Major Trait - (0/3)

Can I see the details of each specific [Trait] I have somehow?

Max experimented with directing his intent and a moment later he was looking at a second display with more detail.

Traits Body Mind Soul Mana Qi Juvenile V Common Language* Adaptable* Linguist V

Each category flickered across his inner vision like ephemeral fireflies, implying a plethora of abilities that seemed both wondrous and alien to his innocent soul. Yet as he reached the end of the mostly empty lists, the grim realization dawned upon him that even having access to the system, he remained near defenseless, a fragile infant caught in a web of otherworldly intrigue.

So if I focus hard enough I can bring up or send away a display screen, and this is supposed to help me in some way? All it does is tell me in numeric terms how much nothing I can do! Is there nothing here that I can actually use?

Max despaired, his heart heavy with the weight of powerlessness. He let out a frustrated huff, scanning the information one last time before dismissing it. Useless. All of him was useless. The infant's gaze shifted back to the world around him, hoping for some sign of respite from the domineering face that loomed above.

"Ah," Timekeeper said as he watched Max deflate. "It would seem our little guest has accepted his fate."

Gritting his teeth against a defiant snarl, Max wrestled his weak infant body under control. Rage and terror warred within him, instincts screaming at him to fight or flee. But he could do neither, helpless as a newborn babe. The High Priest was right, he'd learned how to access his system but it did little to improve his sorry state. In his past life, he'd become a master at accepting his circumstances, no matter how abysmal.

Arguably this isn't even the first time I've been doomed from birth.

If Sister hadn't always been there first to make me look bad, would Mother

Would Mother have been able to love me?

Father... it wouldn't have mattered. I can't believe he even loves his firstborn prodigy, only her trophy case that he can show off. "Image is everything," after all. Well, his image. His public image at least.

Not the time Max.

This is supposed to be my second chance, my request, right?

I can't remember, but I can imagine agreeing to just about anything to

To get away from him.

"Such a fascinating specimen you are," Timekeeper continued, his voice dripping with condescension. "Without even a semblance of intelligence, mere exposure to my dulcet tones has born a sycophant that is enthralled by my presence!" His unnerving singsong voice was only exacerbated by his macabre words, "do not fret, little heathen; soon you'll be freed from that worthless husk, and by the grace of Mnemet your soul could be blessed to be reborn as better than a lowly [Human]."

Maybe I can talk my way out of this?

I can understand them, does that mean I can communicate back as well?

The priest seems to be in charge and was against killing me... I think...

I've never been a great communicator though, even after getting my stutter under control.

"Please, Mnemet," the High Priest intoned, raising his hands skyward as if in supplication. "Grant your servant a reprieve from this long night and offer this pitiful creature a swift release from its suffering."

Swift release?

Max raged internally, even as his infant face remained a mask of innocence.

As if I would simply roll over and die for your convenience!

He was out of his depth, adrift in a sea of danger with no way to swim. The shore seemed impossibly distant, obscured by gathering storm clouds on the horizon; but Max steeled himself and turned his gaze upward, meeting the High Priest's deprecation with defiance. Max stared up into those remorseless eyes, the chill of fear settling into the marrow of his bones. Yet a spark ignited within him, refusing to be extinguished by the High Priest's malevolent gaze.

Real or not, I have to find a way to prove him wrong- to survive. I won't let them decide my fate.