When Paxton first saw his brother, he had no words that could express his joy.

      Of course, being a one year old, he had a stifling vocabulary, but he was working on it.

      Deciphering a language was as difficult as figuring out how to build a house by watching someone build a boat. He had some words down, even if he couldn't pronounce them, but he was learning more every day.

      The tiny baby was no larger than a potato, but he was a third of Paxton's current size.

      They were set in adjacent cribs with a perfect view of each other. His mother kept blubbering a word that he had only heard a rare few times, which he assumed was his brother's name.

      'Goddard'

      Paxton crawled to the side of his crib, perfecting basic motor functions only a week ago. The tiny babe Paxton crawled to the daunting walls of his crib, looking around for the latch that controlled it's release. Reaching as high as he could, the baby barely managed to make it halfway. Looking around for some item to use, Paxton saw a long stick thing that must have been a children's toy. Grabbing it, Paxton put herculean effort into just knocking the latch away.

      Tired and wanting to see his newborn brother, the tiny Paxton once again used the toy to disengage the latch of his brother's crib. There was a shuddering thud as the two walls came crashing down, unsupported by the latchs that once held them.

      With a free way across, the small child fell the gap between the cribs, a tiny gap to an adult, but to Paxton it was a bottomless trench. Pulling his stubby legs across the minor trench. The sheer exertion was too much for a child of his age, and Paxton was left with barely any strength in his arms. He could only use his legs to try and push himself closer to the tiny baked potato that was his brother.

      Once he was next to Goddard, Paxton looked into the tiny baby's sleeping face and saw a lifetime ahead of them.

      Without a word to be said, the baby Paxton made a solemn vow that he would be the best brother in the world. His parents were nice people, but they were soft if anything. Paxton knew that a child needed the right amount of discipline and care in order to become a great adult. Paxton would not let his brother be a victim, nor would he be an antagonist.

      When their parents came into the room, they saw Paxton nuzzling his litte brother affectionately. It was an adorable moment, even when they figured out how the boy had escaped from his crib. The sheer ingenuity was amazing, and for such a cute reason.

      Lord Byron and his wife seperated the two children so that there wouldn't be any accidents, pulling their cribs apart for good measure. Leaving them under the eyes of an old nursemaid, the parents came back only to find that Paxton had once again snuck into his brother's crib. Only this time, neither of the cribs were open.

      It seemed like a brother's love is stronger than any bars.

      A year passed and Paxton had all but figured out the language. He was able to use simple phrases and was already working on vocabulary for the tougher words. His reading left something to be desired, but he was able to recognize a thirty-four letter alphabet.

      He had been walking for some time, but now he was starting to run. His energy levels were crazy, his body able to recover from fatigue in minutes. He ate like a ten year old purposefully, trying to bolster his body's future growth potential.

      When his brother turned a year old, Paxton joined his parents in teaching the little sprout to speak. Already he was spending time with his baby brother, giving Goddard the love and attention of a doting mother. The time spent was not wasted, even if his baby brother didn't have memories from a former life. Paxton was getting better everyday, training both his balance and sense of direction.

      That was also when Paxton began to notice strange things happening. At night, he could see perfectly through complete darkness. Sometimes when he looked at one of the maids, he could see a strange glow around them. Once, when he transitioned a pencil to a desk drawer, he forgot about it. When he reached into his pocket searching for the pencil, he found it.

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      The one situation that made Paxton mind scrape was when he fell out of a tree.

      The two year old hit a few branches on the way down before landing awkwardly on his side. His body hurt all over, pushing to the limit the tender skin as he felt a bone broken in his arm. Screaming at the top of his lungs, Paxton felt warm all over as he cried for help. When someone came to get him, they asked him what was wrong.

      Sniveling and crying like the baby he was supposed to be, Paxton screeched that he fell from the tree. When the person examined his body, though, there wasn't so much as a bruise on him. Even the bone that he thought had been broken was without pain. He was told that he was fine, and that the fall hadn't been as bad as he thought.

      But Paxton doubted that. He had been nearing the very top where a branch hadn't been able to support his light weight. Looking up at the broken branch, Paxton estimated he had fallen nearly fourty feet. That was not something he should have survived, especially without a scratch. The pain had been there, as excrutiating as ever, but his injuries just disappeared.

      Paxton was baffled. There was no explanation, until one night when Lord Byron held a feast for a few people that Paxton didn't recognize. They kept using the word 'Aho', which he didn't recognize. Finally, Paxton asked his father what 'Aho' was supposed to be.

      As it was explained to Paxton, Aho was an energy in some people that gave them special powers. Some people could use it to throw balls of fire, freeze water, imbue power into items, and lots of other mystical things.

      'Holy shit,' thought Umbra, 'Aho is magic! I'm in a world with magic! HAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHAHH! THIS IS AMAZING!'

      Memories of the strange situations that he had encountered, the thought of his unnatural healing, and it just clicked.

      'Can... can I use magic?'

      It was only a theory, but the mere thought of being able to use magic made Paxton's past life leap for joy. It was an amazing feeling, so the little boy asked his dad with star's in his eyes.

      "I would love that," Lord Byron told his son, "but magic only appears in one out of a hundred people. Some of the best only appear one in ten thousand people. Why? You think you have magic?"

      "Yes!" Paxton exclaimed brightly. He got his hair tusseled by his father, who let his hand rest on his son's head.

      "When you're old enough, I'll have both you and your brother tested for magic," Lord Byron stated warmly. "Until then, do your best to learn about succeeding me. You are my oldest son, which means that you will succeed me whether you have magic or not. It may not be easy, but I will always be there to help you."

      "Dad," Paxton cried, his voice filled with emotion, "I'll make you proud!"

      "I know, son," Lord Byron assured him with the confidence of a dreamer. "You're going to be a great man."

  The child nearly broke down right there under the encouraging words of his father. He held himself with respect, reminding himself that a professional assassin would never cry in front of others.

  'But I'm not an assassin,' Paxton thought, bitterly remembering his past. 'I'm not, I'm not, I'm not! I'm a child! Who does childish things like crying and screaming and not caring about social norms!'

  It took some personal effort, but Paxton started to eek out some tears while his nose dripped. The guests noticed this, but chose not to comment. They did mention Lord Byron's other child, so his wife went to retrieve him.

  A minute later, the baby Goddard was shown off in front of the guests like a prize. He was up to his mother's thigh, sprouting some thin hairs that failed to hide his baby baldness. The little guy was dressed in clown clothes that were brightly colored with flair around the joints. He wore tiny boots that engulfed his entire legs like a side-show actor.

The entire room gushed about how adorable Goddard's little, baby, chubby cheeks were; except for Paxton, who was looking up at the grouping of adults with some jealousy.

  'I wish I could pinch his face,' thought Paxton sourly as he crossed his arms to pout.

  His mother noticed the behavior, so she broke away from the group and got down on one knee.

  With the loving grace of a mom, she set Goddard's feet on the ground and pointed to Paxton.

  "You see that!" she cooed. "That's your big brother over there! Can you go hug him?"

  With that little encouragement, she let go and watched as Goddard unevenly wobbled on his weak legs. The baby leaned one way, then leaned the other, almost tipping over.

  Finally, with his whole body trembling, Goddard took his first uneasy steps.

  Paxton held his hand out and urge his baby brother, "Walk! You can do it!"

  Goddard took a few more steps, then stumbled to his knees. The entire room let inhaled sharply, but the toddler stuck his but in the air and then shakily righted himself.

  The child stumbled the last few steps into his brother's arms, knocking Paxton onto his tiny butt. The guests all cheered while the parents were in tears for having watched their child's first steps. There were congratulations all around, until Goddard started to cry from Paxton delivering a crushing hug of sibling love.