Bright light flooded the boy's eyes as he slowly regained consciousness. Struggling to sit up, he managed to prop himself on his elbows, his vision still adjusting. He scanned his surroundings, trying to make sense of the room.

It was a square space, the walls made of packed mud, framed by sturdy wooden logs. A hearthfire smoldered gently in the center, casting flickering shadows on the walls. Across the room, he noticed what appeared to be an alchemical table, filled with bubbling concoctions and strange contraptions.

As he finished taking in the room, he heard loud voices from the adjacent space. A striking figure entered—a beautiful woman with white hair and small black horns protruding from her forehead. Her skin had a crimson tint, and her eyes gleamed like polished rubies. A man followed close behind, his skin a grayish hue, his hair styled in a wild, wolf-like tail. He had the rugged build of a Greek god, his beard adding to his survivalist aura. Both wore simple leather outfits lined with fur and heavy boots.

“Look, Scion, our little Draco is finally awake,” the crimson woman said, her voice warm.

“Aye, Lagertha,” the man replied, a broad, toothy grin spreading across his face.

“He's fully aware, isn't he? Look at his eyes, so mature for his age,” Scion marveled. “Just like his brother, Bjorn.”

As they doted on their newborn son, Draco's thoughts raced. I guess these are my parents. They look so COOL. I wonder what world I'm in… what secrets and awesome things this world holds.

Draco reached his arms toward his mother, instinctively seeking an embrace. As she bent down to cradle him, he spoke his first words.

“Mama,” Draco muttered, then turned to the man and said, “Dada.”

Both parents were stunned. At only two days old, their baby boy had managed to speak.

“We’ve got a prodigy on our hands,” Scion said, pride swelling in his voice.

“How adorable you are, little one,” Lagertha cooed.

But in Draco’s mind, he was less enthused. Damn this baby body, he thought, flailing his arms in frustration. I need to learn more about this world, and fast. Looks like I’ll have to grow up all over again. That’s fine… I can’t wait to see what this life has in store.

“Come here, little one,” Lagertha cooed as she bent down to pick Draco up in her arms. “It’s time to show you off to the rest of the village.”

Carrying him out of the mud hut, they were greeted by a wave of cheers that filled the air. Draco’s eyes widened as he looked around. A whole village of people, all sharing the grayish skin and sparkling blue eyes of his father, stood before him. The only ones who stood out were his mother and a small child, about five years old. The child’s skin was a lighter shade, with two small horns jutting from his forehead and bright crimson eyes with slit pupils. As they passed by a water basin, Draco caught a glimpse of himself—a baby version of that small child.

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This is awesome! Draco thought, excitement bubbling up inside him. What race am I? What race are they? So many new things to learn!

He turned his attention to the village itself. Huts were lined neatly along a main road that led to the village entrance. A small well stood in the center, and a wall of sharpened wooden logs encircled the village. Beyond the walls, he could see a dense forest of towering trees, their tops dwarfed by the jagged peaks of a distant mountain range.

This village is amazing… it’s like a fantasy come to life! Draco's eyes sparkled with wonder.

An elderly man, bearing a striking resemblance to Draco’s father but with the weight of many more years etched on his face, approached them. He stared at Draco with an intensity that seemed to pierce his very soul, scrutinizing the baby in his daughter-in-law’s arms for a long moment.

Then, suddenly, the old man erupted in a booming laugh.

“You’ve done it again, boy!” he exclaimed, his voice rich with amusement. “You’ve bred another half-breed! This boy is a Draconian demon.”

I’m a what?! Draco thought, stunned.

“That means he’s going to be just as strong as his older brother, Bjorn,” Lagertha said with a proud smile. “Come and meet your baby brother, Bjorn.”

“Yes, Mother,” Bjorn muttered, shuffling closer with a reluctant expression.

The villagers gathered around, their eyes shining with curiosity and joy. Lagertha lifted Draco high into the air, and the crowd erupted in celebration. Laughter, cheers, and even bursts of flame spewed from the mouths of the villagers, filling the air with a sense of unity together.

After the festivities, Draco's family walked to the edge of the village, climbing the wooden wall that stood guard over their home. Together, they looked out over the treetops, the setting sun painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson. The gentle evening breeze carried the scent of pine and earth. Draco's tiny heart swelled with something he hadn't felt in two lifetimes- peace.

This is beautiful, he thought, the wordless wonder filling his mind. He couldn't comprehend it, couldn't describe it. But for the first time, everything felt right.

Then without warning the world shattered.

A deafening explosion shook the village. The front gate was engulfed in flames, the roar of the inferno mixing with screams of his people. Draco's eyes widened as the scene below turned into a nightmare. Draconians layed scattered, lifeless, around the entrance, their bodies broken and burned. Admit the chaos, a dark figure with enormous, feathery wings stood like an angel of death, his hand wrapped around the neck of a terrified villager.

With a slow, deliberate motion, the figure twisted his hand. The crack of the villager's neck echoed through the chaos, his body crumbling to the ground. The figures lips curled into a cruel, twisted grin as he turned his gaze towards Draco's family and began to move.

"Take them to safety, old man!" Lagertha's voice was strained but steady as she pushed Draco and his brother into the arms of the elderly villager. Her eyes were fierce, her grip on the old man shoulder unyielding for a heartbeat before she let go. GO!

The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was his mother, limp and unconscious in the clutches of the dark figure, his wings spreading as he ascended into the sky. His father's scream tore through the chaos- a sound of pure, unbridled agony.

"LAGERTHA!!!!"

And then there was nothing