That little wiggle I did? Yeah, it exhausted me.

A single stretch, a tiny movement, and suddenly, I felt like I had run a marathon. The weight of fatigue settled in, and before I could process anything else—darkness took me.

And so, I slept.

For days. Weeks. Months.

I had nothing better to do anyway.

But whenever I was awake, I listened. It was the only thing keeping me from going insane in this dark, watery prison. My supposed parents spoke often, their voices filtering through the walls of my mother’s womb, muffled yet understandable.

Names.

I focused on the names first.

My mother’s name was Sheina. My father’s name was Aizak.

At least now I knew who was responsible for bringing me into this world.

Then, I started piecing together the details of the world I was about to be born into.

They often mentioned a place called Capital City of Draguan.

‘A capital city? So I’m definitely in a big country.’

That wasn’t too surprising. What was surprising was the next thing I heard.

"The Kingdom of Dragon Spine."

I swear, if I had a fully developed heart, it would’ve skipped a beat.

‘A kingdom? What the hell do you mean, kingdom?!’

My mind went into overdrive.

‘Wait. What year is it? What happened to democracy? Was there a rebellion? A shift in world powers? A global war?’

The thoughts were endless, spiraling into every possibility.

I needed more information.

So, for the next three months, between the endless cycles of sleeping and waking, I did what I did best—listen.

Three months passed.

I could feel it.

A strange, instinctive sense told me my time inside this dark, watery world was coming to an end. My body, still small and weak, had grown enough to be ready.

Soon, I’d be born.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Excited? Anxious? Dreading the experience of being squeezed through a human-sized exit like a damn toothpaste tube?

Whatever the case, I didn’t have a choice.

Throughout these months, I had gathered as much information as I could. I was not in my old world anymore—that much was clear. This was an entirely new world, one that operated on different rules, though some things remained oddly familiar.

Time still worked the same—same hours, same days. But months? They had no names, just numbered cycles. It was strange, but I could live with it.

What caught my attention the most was the continent’s name—Roan.

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This wasn’t just some city or country. This was an entirely different continent, and from what I pieced together, it had four distinct seasons—Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall.

And right now?

It was Winter.

A fitting time for my second birth, I suppose.

Just a few more days.

Then, like it or not, I’d be born.

-------

Winter’s icy grip clung to the land outside, blanketing the world in pristine white. The wind howled through the narrow streets of the capital, slipping through cracks in stone walls and rattling the wooden shutters of homes. Yet inside one such house—a sturdy two-story dwelling of brick and stone—warmth battled against the season’s harsh embrace.

The glow of a roaring fireplace filled the main bedroom, the golden light dancing across rough-hewn wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling. A thick, woven rug covered the stone floor, muffling hurried footsteps as a midwife moved about with practiced ease. The scent of burning wood mixed with the faint, metallic tang of sweat and labor, creating an atmosphere heavy with tension and anticipation.

At the center of the room, Sheina, a woman in the midst of childbirth, lay upon a large bed draped with thick, sweat-dampened linens. Her auburn hair, usually brushed neatly over her shoulders, clung to her flushed, tear-streaked face. Her emerald green eyes, dulled by exhaustion yet sharp with determination, locked onto her husband’s as she fought through another wave of pain.

Aizak, a tall man with shoulder-length dark hair and sharp, aristocratic features, knelt beside her. His strong arms were wrapped around her trembling form, his face a mixture of helpless concern and unwavering support. His deep blue eyes, so often filled with quiet amusement, were now clouded with worry. His free hand smoothed damp strands of hair from Shein’s forehead, while his other arm bore the full force of her grip.

The room was filled with the sounds of heavy breathing, hushed encouragements, and the crackling of firewood. The midwife, an older woman with a face lined by years of experience, stood at the foot of the bed, her hands poised to catch the new life about to enter the world.

“Just a little more, my lady,” she coaxed in a calm but firm tone. “One final push.”

Sheina clenched her jaw, her entire body trembling with exhaustion, but she refused to give in. With a deep breath, she summoned the last of her strength and pushed one final time—

A piercing cry split the air.

For a moment, all else faded. The wind outside, the burning fire, the creaks of the old wooden floor—all became insignificant against the powerful sound of new life.

Sheina gasped, her entire body sagging with relief as she collapsed back onto the pillows. Tears welled in her eyes, though whether from exhaustion or overwhelming joy, she could not tell.

Aizak exhaled sharply, a deep, relieved sigh escaping his lips as he loosened his grip on his wife’s trembling hands. His gaze was locked onto the tiny, wriggling figure in the midwife’s arms. His broad shoulders, usually squared with confidence, slumped slightly, the weight of his concern finally lifting.

The midwife, her experienced hands cradling the newborn, let out a soft chuckle as she examined the squirming infant. The baby’s small fists flailed, his tiny mouth open wide as he wailed, his cries raw and filled with life.

With a warm smile, she turned to the weary yet eager parents.

“It’s a boy,” she announced, her voice filled with quiet joy. “A healthy baby boy.”

She moved swiftly, wrapping the infant in a clean white sheet, his delicate form now swaddled securely. Then, with the gentleness of someone who had done this many times before, she lowered the newborn into Shein’s waiting arms.

The moment Sheina’s trembling hands touched the child, a sob caught in her throat. She pulled him close, her warmth enveloping him. The baby’s cries softened, his tiny body settling as he instinctively recognized the presence of his mother.

Aizak, unable to look away, wrapped an arm around Shein’s shoulders and leaned in. His heart pounded, but for the first time in hours, it was no longer out of fear. His gaze swept over the tiny life before him—

The baby’s skin was soft and pink, his wisps of red hair barely visible in the dim firelight. His eyes, though still adjusting to the world, peeked open for the first time, revealing a faint reddish hue.

Aizak let out a breathless chuckle, brushing a thumb against his son’s small fingers, which instinctively curled around it.

“You did well, my love,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Shein’s damp forehead. His voice was thick with emotion. “You should name him.”

Sheina, still catching her breath, gazed down at the tiny child nestled against her chest. Her emerald eyes shimmered, reflecting both the firelight and the depth of her emotions.

She had never felt a love so fierce, so all-consuming.

She inhaled deeply, feeling the warmth of her husband beside her, the weight of their child in her arms, the quiet crackling of the fire as it witnessed this sacred moment.

Then, as if the name had always belonged to him, she whispered—

“Aizek.”

Aizel smiled, his expression softening with pride and tenderness. He pressed his forehead against hers, letting out a quiet, breathless laugh.

“Sheina,” he murmured, “it’s perfect.”

Outside, the winter wind howled. But inside this small brick-and-stone home, there was only warmth.