I awake screaming. Crying. Tears flood from my eyes. My body desperately thrashes against the tormented feeling of my life ending.

Huh?

I’m crying?

I’m moving?

The world around me is blurry. The light hurts my eyes. The room I’m in seems so close yet inaccessible. There are jarring, colorless shapes moving about, but I cannot comprehend them well. It’s an odd sensation.

My hippocampus hemorrhages. Memories flash about as if they’re downloading into a brand new computer. I gasp for breath, desperate for it. A film sticks to my frame like glue. My body is exposed, but it looks like I’m intact though the sensation of being suspended in the air has not receded.

There’s shouting. Muttering. I can’t make it out. My ears aren’t working very well.

What the hell happened?!

“—ations!….ful!…u!”

What?

“—ar…ame?”

Again, what? Come on, brain! Figure this crap out!

I blink rapidly, calming myself. My crying and tears cease. I force a sharp intake of breath. In…out…in…and out! Whew! That’s satisfying!

“—opped crying?” A voice, more precise than the other voices, speaks.

Doctor? A medic? Is someone trying to talk to me? How could I even be breathing at this point? I fell multiple stories to certain death. None of this makes any sense. Then there was that weird cage. The woman.

The hell is going on?

With my vision still blurry, my fractured blinking persists.

I should try to talk to those around me and let them know I’m alright.

My vocal cords attempt to blurt out words of worry. “Where am I?” struggles upon my throat, but no sound comes out. Instead, there is a muffled groan. High-pitched. Annoying. Almost like a cry.

Am I hurt?

“—trying to speak?” announces a voice. Still, it’s highly muted.

“Already?”

“Oh, you’re imagining things.”

The voices are much, much clearer now. Regardless, there seems to be no clear recognition of my actions. Of course I’m trying to speak! What did that person mean by ‘already’? I must be severely damaged, especially if the other person thinks they’re imagining it.

Just what do I look like now? How nasty are my wounds? What was that cage? Am I actually alive? I guess I have to be. Was I in a coma? Did I come out of it? Am I crippled?

I need answers.

Dammit, I should try to move then. Maybe I can write something down if my voice is damaged. At the very least, I’ll be able to examine myself.

With all the strength in my body, I attempt to move.

Nothing.

My body merely thrashes about pointlessly. It tires me. Damn. I’m more injured than I thought if those little actions wore me out.

“Look at that!” says a voice. Female. Older. Around my age, I think. Mid-twenties? The timbre is gentle. Warming. “Already moving!”

“Would you like to hold it?”a male voice emanates. It is gruff, defined with authority. There’s vigor behind his words as if he’s a boss or CEO. Not a lot of people have told this person no, I’d bet.

“Yes,” the female voice cuts through right after the man is finished speaking.

The male voice groans as if alleviated by the prospect. “Alright then.”

Slowly, I’m coasted through the air. For the first time, I notice two strong arms underneath my body. Well, not arms. Simply hands.

How can my entire body be held up with hands?! How strong is this person?!

My blinking continues, but the blurry shapes remain the same. The edges of my vision are clearing up slightly, but my eyes simply will not readjust, dammit! Everything seems blotchy and blurry. And where is all the color!?

Two new hands reach under my body. Now four hands support my entire frame with absolute ease.

My weight transfers. I drop slightly with the new pair of hands as the old remove themselves from my body. Carefully, my skin nuzzles into what feels like a blanket. The edges of my fingers are still able to move. I lash them out. They gently graze something that feels like flesh.

I blink away.

And blink.

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“—so cute…”

Huh?

“—a disappoin…afraid…”

I blink.

Blink, blink, blink!

Clear up, dammit!

I close my eyes harshly. My eyelids block out the light. I open up again slowly as I allow my eyes to adjust to the world all over again like a harsh reset.

The world re-emerges as sharp, jagged figures, but my vision does feel better this time around. Seems like that was a good idea. Over time, the jagged hues of distorted pastels augment into lumpy visages I can discern. Oh God, I still can’t see color. How damaged am I?!

Oh shit…

Towering above me is a face.

So…pretty….

It’s a woman. Her eyes seem to delve into my soul. What looks like wavy hair flows from atop her head. It’s messy as if she’s just undergone a horrible amount of exercise. Still, her demeanor gives off a comforting warmth.

This woman is human. But large. Much larger than me, especially if she’s holding me in this kind of way.

“Adorable.” The woman looks up. “I made this.” The glow of happiness in her eyes seem to disappear. It’s replaced by a perturbed, almost stressful tone. Her words appear almost bewildered, but there’s something else behind them. Fear? Or is that hatred?

Wait, made this?

I glance over to the man holding me prior. A tall, blurry gentleman with flowing, long hair stands beside what seems like a bed. Is that where this woman is holding me? Within a bed?

There’s disappointment in his sight as he observes me. It’s easy to tell from his demeanor. There’s neither love nor anger. Nothing. That’s to be expected. It’s not like we know each other. We’re strangers. But why is this woman holding me so afraid of him? What does that spell for me?

Also within the room are two other people. A woman, I think. Plump. She wears what looks like a maid’s outfit. Stains adorn the white frock she wears around her waist. She bends over, washing her hands within a bucket full of water, I assume.

Beside the woman is a man. He seems scholarly, exuding a sense of intelligence not represented as strongly within the rest of the room. Some type of residue splatters his cloak, I believe. It’s still so hard to see. Everything is blotchy and colorless. I have to try hard just to see what I’m seeing. It’s exhausting.

The bearded man with the fancy clothes turns to the intelligent-looking man wearing the intricate coat. “Thank you, doctor.”

“It is my pleasure, my lord.” The man bows benevolently. “It was touch-and-go for a moment there, but Lady Embers is a strong woman. She delivered a healthy baby. It would have gone even better if I were blessed by the Divine Treats as a healer. My apologies for the inconvenience.”

The bearded man beside me agrees, “That she did. And your abilities are not your fault. When we do find our healer, please give them guidance, doctor.”

“Certainly, my lord.”

Doctor?

Touch-and-go?

Baby?

This is…no…could it…wait….

Doctor...me being carried by giants...the woman seems to hold me with care...

Did...Did I...?

Slowly, I peer down at my body.

Shock courses through my blood.

Everything is small. My hands are tiny. My feet are little. My entire frame, in contrast to the woman holding me, is minuscule. A piece of what looks like rotting meat protrudes from where my belly button should be.

I try to speak again.

Nothing.

Just a whimper.

The hell?

Am I….

No…!

I’m… I’m a…baby! That's impossible! Which religion was preaching this shit?! They need better fucking marketing. Holy shit, I—

“She’s trying to speak again!”

Hold up.

She?!

“Have you decided on a name for her yet?” asks the doctor. “If I may ask, my lord.”

“I do not know—” the bearded man begins.

“Scarlet,” declares the woman holding me.

I peer up at her. The kind eyes seem to bore into my soul.

“Scarlet?” the bearded man questions.

The woman nods. “Yes. It suits her.”

“…”

Hold up…

‘She’?

‘Scarlet’?

So… I’m a baby…and my name’s Scarlet.

Oh.

Then I did die.

I really died.

That place I was in. That dream. That was some world in-between death and reality, wasn’t it?

Then that woman…was that God? Or something else?

I died.

Yes, I died.

I really died.

Yet, I’m alive.

Here, I am, breathing and small.

A baby.

Reincarnation.

I reincarnated?

I reincarnated…as a girl?

I reincarnated as a baby girl?!

“...”

I begin to cry.