The streetlights flickered on as James walked down the quiet sidewalk, his shoulders hunched under the weight of a long day. At 25, he felt older than his years, burdened by the dull routine of his job, the mounting pile of unfulfilled dreams, and the nagging sense that he was just getting by rather than truly living. The cool night air stung his cheeks, reminding him he’d forgotten his jacket—again.

He glanced at his watch, the one his mother had given him before she passed, and felt a pang of regret. His life was a cycle of days blending together, each one feeling more pointless than the last. But tonight, for reasons he couldn’t explain, he felt a strange sense of finality.

As he approached the crosswalk, he paused, waiting for the signal to turn. The faint hum of traffic seemed distant, almost peaceful.

That’s when he saw it—a truck barreling down the street, its headlights bearing down on him.

It happened in a flash. The truck’s brakes screeched, but it was too late. James felt a massive force collide with him, sending him spinning into darkness. The pain was sharp and blinding, then dull and strangely distant, as though he was floating outside his body, observing the chaos from afar.

As he lay on the cold pavement, everything around him blurred. He vaguely heard voices, frantic and desperate, but they sounded far away. His vision dimmed, and he became acutely aware of how fragile life was, of all the things he hadn’t done.

“Is this it?” he thought, a strange calm settling over him. “Is this really… the end?”

A sudden peace enveloped him. The pain, the regrets, the endless grind—all of it slipped away. The voices faded, and he sank into the darkness, ready to let go.

Time was meaningless in that void. He drifted, feeling neither alive nor dead, as though he existed in a state of limbo. Then, slowly, something pulled him back, a bright light that pierced the darkness and drew him toward it. He felt warmth, comfort, and a strange sense of belonging. And then…

A piercing cry shattered the silence.

The world around him was unfamiliar, and his senses felt heightened, yet… restricted. A rush of warmth, and a soft blanket wrapped around him, cocooned him in comfort. His eyes blinked open, though everything was blurred and strange.

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

He was lying in someone’s arms. The scent of lavender and some kind of sweet herbal aroma filled his nostrils. He tried to move his arms and legs, only to realize he couldn’t. His limbs felt tiny and weak, his body strangely… small.

“Is this… am I… a baby?” The thought was absurd, yet undeniable.

From the corner of his vision, he could make out a woman’s face, her eyes filled with warmth and pride. She spoke softly, her voice lilting in a language he didn’t understand, yet he could sense the affection in her tone.

James’s mind spun as he struggled to make sense of his new surroundings. Tiny limbs, barely able to move, strange sensations, and the warmth of being held close by someone who exuded a gentle, protective presence—it was all surreal. A pair of large, dark eyes gazed down at him with an intensity he could only describe as motherly. Her voice was soft, almost musical, though the words were utterly foreign to him.

But there was one word she kept repeating, a sound that seemed to have a special significance. Whenever she spoke it, her eyes softened, and she would gently touch his chest or pat his tiny hand.

"Arlan," she murmured again, smiling down at him. The name carried warmth, perhaps love, and a hint of pride. James—or Arlan, as she called him—began to realize that this was what she had named him in this new life.

Next, a deeper voice entered the scene. James looked up to see a towering figure—a man with a thick beard and fierce, piercing eyes. His posture was authoritative, exuding power. He spoke in the same unfamiliar language, his tone steady and resolute. As he spoke, he motioned to James, and from his expression, James sensed something beyond fatherly pride. This man was assessing him, not just as a child, but as someone who would carry on… something important.

James couldn’t understand a word, but he caught snippets that repeated—something that sounded like “baron” and another word that might have been the family’s name. His mind worked to connect the dots, though he was little more than a helpless infant.

As his new father gazed down at him, James noticed that the man wore an ornate crest on his robe—a symbol of status, perhaps? This room, with its stone walls, tapestries, and ancient furniture, felt like something from a time long past. He realized that his new parents were likely nobility, and whatever family he had been born into was a far cry from his ordinary life on Earth.

The woman—his mother, he supposed—shifted him in her arms, murmuring soft words that he didn’t understand, yet he felt comforted. As she hummed a lullaby, he let himself relax, surrendering to the strange new sensations and sounds around him.

So, my name is Arlan, he thought, his mind swimming with the surreal wonder of it all. And this time, I am someone different.

In his last waking moments, he caught a glimpse of his new father’s face, proud and watchful, before drifting into a deep, dreamless sleep.

(End of the Chapter).